Tell me, why do my thoughts betray me like they do? How can they break me into nothing but dust?
Oko Ninjah
Do you notice my twitches? How I fidget with myself, my hands always gripping something? Have you seen the way my breath quickens and how I find it hard to breathe? Or that my chest tightens frequently? Maybe you've seen my body shake and my words start to stutter when I try to speak more than four words, have you? Or that if I don't have my coin (my anchor) I spaz out? Because that's what you do to me. I lose words, I can't seem to control my body. Or is that what you want me to do? You want control over me. It's stopping me from doing things I'm supposed to do. My mind races and sometimes it's not even thoughts, it's just words circling my mind. They don't even make sense most of the time, they're just there. Circling. I need you to stop. Because I need it to stop. I can't breathe. I can't keep doing this. I'm already pathetic. I don't need you to add more pressure. Please stop.
Oko Ninjah (to my anxiety, paranoia, and other mental problems)
You know, a lot of people don’t understand how much energy it takes to hold back a panic attack or an anger outburst. They don’t understand how much strength it takes out of you and how much it hurts. You ever have flashbacks? That triggers from a name? A photo? A simple word? A song? Flashbacks that are like memories where you feel what you felt back then and it hurts your head like someone is clutching a chunk of hair from your head and yanking as hard as they can. You know how hard it is to snap out of that? Do you know how hard it is to JUST cut yourself? Yeah, I get it. Cutting isn’t healthy. But you know what? I can’t help it. Because what I really want to do is kill myself. Thats what I really want to do, I want to just make it all stop but no one ever talks about that, do they? No. They just think I’m cutting because I want attention. No. I’m cutting because I want it to stop. I don’t want to keep feeling this way… My aunty was here since Thursday until Sunday, she just left at 5 that was nine hourd ago. The whole time she was here, I had to pretend I was okay. Like I gave a fuck, pretending to happy… I had to hold back my panic attacks and my anger… You know, my vision actually got blurred. I think people (I know 5 does) think she’s like a substitute because my mom’s gone. No. Not even close. Not even a fraction of a fraction of one hundreth of a grain of rice. Why do I do that? For them! The fuck do you think? Because when people see that you’re crazy they treat you like you’re gonna hurt someone or like you’re a fragile mirror they’re carefully moving. So I hold it in, keep it in, bury it as deep as I can. Friends? There are none. Family? Thats a funny word.
People are like, ‘why do you have panic attacks?’ 'stop cutting’ 'you should be stronger than that’ They don’t understand how hard it is to JUST cut, to hold back just ONE panic attacks. You think one panic attack comes around? No. You think its easy to JUST cut?
Step into our mind, into our empty hearts - have you got that kind of strength?
Someone please.... Just slit my wrists, I call it quits.
Oko Ninjah