You waited 7 weeks, 7 fantastic weeks, to spring back up on me again. I thought that potentially you had gone, that I could maybe start thinking of going back to work, that maybe I could catch up with friends who mean the world to me, and that maybe I could be myself again. The smiling, carefree, happy self that I have so desperately missed. But no. You wait until I drop my guards down, start trusting myself again, to slime and worm your way back to me. The voice that had disappeared came back with a vengeance; “of course it’s ok to stay in bed all day”; “you definitely shouldn’t talk to your friends today”; “you should definitely pick up the box of tools you hid away with purpose, it doesn’t hurt, I promise”.
Each time you come back, I take you in like an old friend. I welcome you with open arms, and listen to your advice, even if I know that in my heart you are wrong and hurtful, I don’t listen. Your voice is loud and powerful enough to drown my voice of reasoning out. Yours is the one I trust implicitly; the one I wait for when the numbing silence burns my insides away. I have no capacity to say no to you, and at the time, no desire to either. You’re the lethal friend who only wants me to feel bad, so they can feel better about themselves. Yet, both of them are inside of me. I self destruct like you say I should, but I don’t feel better for it; you do. Each time I give myself another scar, you do a victory dance in my head; you celebrate the fact that you are winning, once more.
Stay strong. Wait for the next time you get 7 weeks of making up your own mind. Embrace those weeks, those moments. Every time, try your hardest to push it an extra week longer. You are strong, but push harder. Be stronger. Care less for the darkness inside your brain. He wants nothing but to hurt you. He isn’t your friend. He is your worst enemy, the nightmare that attacks you when you are awake. Have the strength to say “not today” to him, and mean it. One day, he will have to get bored of fighting someone who ignores him, right?