Mike's Struggle

The Story From A Broken Mind

April 13th 2010

****Posted from another journal I wrote****

Tired of the games.
Tired of the fights.
Tired of the lies.
Tired of living with this broken mind, lonely soul, and tortured body.
The alcohol is not taking away the pain.
The razor is not cutting deep enough.
This life is to full of lie and deception.
Where is the good, why am I stuck in hell. This hell i can’t drink my way out of, cause it just sits there waiting for me to sober up.

And sober mike is the mike I can’t stand right now. He has the problems, he has the questions with no answers. He is lost!!!


I have been trying not to cut, but i had a really really bad day today and it seem as if i can’t keep it way. the razor is calling my name. I had to go out to do some shopping and must have miss judged the amount of mediations I would need because I need up with all kind of paranoia, racing thoughts, voices, and all most a huge anxiety attack in the middle of the store. I tried the music thing to slow down my thoughts but it did not work. I feel so stupid because i didn’t get half of what i need and spent to much because instead of comparing things for deals I just grabbed the first thing i saw. I tried to journal when i got home have taken more pills and still feel like shit. Just don’t want to do the one thing i know i need to do which is cut, to much bad today with out that.


i wish there was one person that i could tell my secrets to and that could understand me. I am tired of being lonely being the only one in my world. I am tired of the out side word looking at me with judging eye and just shaking there head. I just want to rest in the arms of someone how loves me, and no the kinda love of the person how needs something. Everyone one that uses me always say they love me. I want that feeling not the words. I don’t care anymore i really don’t, because i know it will never be. It is a wonderfully feeling know that you are not lovable, that your here to be shit on. that the best you can be is scum to be used and left in the gutter. But at least at this stage the gutter feels like home. Feels like the warmth of the blood running down my arm. That helps me deal with the pain for one more day.

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This entry was posted on April 13, 2010 by in Journal.
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