Questions.

I hadn't felt the urge to do it for like 2 and a half weeks, but today I felt it. Nothing happened, but I suppose the urge isn't gone.

I'm such a wreck. There's a photo of me on my desk of me just one week before depression all crashed down on me. I don't understand how everything is so different now.

I'm not happy. I'm not okay. I'm so tired. Of everything. I want to get brain surgery and have certain memories taken out. Certain people. They may be out of my business and no longer involved in my life, but that doesn't mean they're gone. That doesn't mean that I'm not being hurt by them anymore.

That's the thing about playing with someone's mind, and abusing their emotions and feelings. The pain lasts. It's not like being hit where you feel the sting and then it's done. It's not like that, it's like a continuous hurt, and it doesn't go away right after the infliction is done. It lingers and seeps into your bones. You know, I never thought about after. And I completely forgot about, and can barely even remember how I felt, before. I was only focused on then.

I didn't think about how the giddy girl I used to be was being strangled to death. I didn't think about how beat down and weak I would be after it was all over.

I only thought about the frantic chaos of the current situation. I didn't stop to think about leaving, or it all being over, because it was too scary to think about. And knowing now what it's been like leaving it behind and having it be over, it's completely unexpected. I thought I'd be frantic and would scream and would burst out in tears in the middle of classes and that I would feel like I was being killed.

Really, it's just a silent sucking away of the self. It's a calm, menacing thing, and you can feel yourself draining and weakening.

I don't know which is worse. What I thought would happen: the chaos, the crying, the breaking things. Or what ended up happening: the silence, the self-destruction, the fake smiles.

If I could just go back.

If I had all of the information.

If that girl was standing in front of me talking about how she babysat all the time and how her mom didn't help at all.

If I could NOT ask her if she wanted help...

Oh, God.

Oh, God. What would I do?

And how could I not let the need to put a smile on her solemn, saddened face sway me?

How could I turn my back...

I wonder what is worse: the damage that has been done to me because I reached out, or the damage that she could have found had I not reached out at all...

Or if there even would have been a difference at all. If anything would have been altered, of if it would have been all the same, and I made no real impact at all. I hate thinking that. I hate thinking that maybe the only thing I did was get myself hurt, and that I did no good at all.

These questions don't have answers.

But I keep asking: why, why, why?!