You wanted to write this, to see if it’ll help. Except that sitting here, pen in hand, you wonder how writing to yourself can help. Especially when you’re writing in 3rd person. So don’t. Hi Eliza. This is yourself speaking. Weird. Scrap that. I don’t know what I want to hear, so don’t know what to write. I don’t know what will help. I don’t know how to calm myself down.
I love you. Random statement, I know. I just don’t know what to say. I want to be there for you. I want to give you what you need, I want to fill it enough that you don’t need to – for the moment – do anything to fill it. I don’t know how to. For it’s so real. You’re living in this world, and, it’s too much. I wish I could say it isn’t, but, it is. And you want a way out. But want to live. So don’t want a way out. But need a way out. Or a break. I don’t know how to give it to you.
Eliza, I just want you to know, it is okay. Whatever happens it is okay. Whatever you do, it is okay. You are doing really well. And, I know it doesn’t help to say that when at the moment you aren’t coping, but, Eliza, you are. You are doing it. You’re living in this world without messing your life up. Just living. Just being. And yes I know you don’t want what is. I know you want out of it. It isn’t life that you’re wanting out of, though yeah, that too, but the overwhelmingness of it. I don’t think you’ve realized, you haven’t been using or escaping in a while. Even a day would count as a while. I don’t know how long it’s been for I haven’t kept track, but you haven’t used painkillers in over a month and a half. You haven’t majorly self harmed in over a month. You haven’t thrown up in a few days, definitely not majorly. You’ve been eating normally – including junk – and accepting it. You haven’t been eating as comfort – or not much – or obsessing/escaping with other things. You’ve just been living in the world. And yeah, living in this world is overwhelming. And is too much. Either you escape it, or you live it. Which is it to be? You say you want to live in this world without messing your life up. Eliza, that is exactly what you are doing at this moment in time. And yeah, it’s hard. And yeah, you want, need, a break. It’s okay. It’s normal. You’re normal.
I wish I could tell you that it will get easier, but I honestly don’t know if it will. And I have to believe in that hope. That it will get easier to just be. For if it doesn’t then, well, if it doesn’t you’ll deal with it then. Right now it is what it is. I love you Eliza. I’m proud of you. And I’m with you always. You always have your greatest ally at your side – yourself. You can do this. You are doing it. You will do it. You’re worth it.
I can’t tell you that you deserve it. For however much I want to believe it enough, I don’t. But even if you don’t deserve it, others deserve it for you. And it’s okay. It’s not for you but for everyone around you.
Eliza, I love you, and am with you every step of the way. I hope it will get easier. Until then, ‘go as long as you can, and take another step’. Just take another step. Another step doesn’t always mean doing the next right thing. Or maybe it does. Sometimes the only possible right thing isn’t doing anything. Sometimes the right thing is just continuing to exist without doing anything negative. And, it won’t always be like that. It won’t always be just existing in a world of blankness. It’ll be living. In a world of colour. A world of black, white, shades of grey – and colour.