About missnonamesblog

My name doesn't matter. I am just like you, but so very different. I am a fifteen year old, freshman, girl and I want my story to be heard. I suffer from anxiety, depression and a few other things. You can email me at: namesdontmatter19@yahoo.com

When you leave..

I know you’re really worried about what will happen when you leave me. I will be okay. I will have more frequent depressed days, I won’t smile and laugh as often again, it will take more to remind me what I’m fighting for, but I will be okay. I will question everything all over again. I will wonder if I’m going to die alone because the only person I want thinks I’m too sick, too.. Much to handle. To be with. To take care of. I will get lonely. I will start sleeping on the floor again. Too tired to change my clothing, awake for hours just staring at the ceiling fan as it spins, allowing it to whisk away the screams one beat at a time away from my mind. I will dress up every morning, paste my glamorous half smile, all fake, on my face and take the day second by second, passing you in the hall, praying to a god I’m not completely sure I believe in anymore, that he will have some tender mercy and allow your cologne to blow just slightly my way. I will go back to my shadowy self. I’m sure of it, only you can bring the colors and the smiles out, but I will be okay. I will survive. You can leave. I’m not saying this so you will feel guilty and stay. I’m saying this so you’ll know what to expect. So you’ll know the reality of what me without you truly is. And thank god that you will never read this. That you’ll never really know. I don’t think you could handle ever doing what’s best for you if you knew. So if you must, leave. If it’s what’s best for you then I want it too, but if you want what’s best for me, oh sweet, dearest lord, please stay.

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My dear boy, don’t you know? When I am doubled over in pain, eyes watering, puking, trying not to scream out of pure agony, that I am trying to think of questions to ask you. That between these waves of hopeless misery I am reaching for my phone to message them to you. Don’t you know that’s how I deal with it? When people ask me how I do it, month after month, day after day, toilet filled with the nutrients I involuntarily gave, I smile and say I don’t know, but in reality it’s you. Even when we didn’t speak it was you. You’re my strength and my weakness and I’m still trying to figure out who that’s possible.

‘Be strong and be smart.’

Someone I love very dearly once gave me the piece of advice, as I was being rushed to the supposed emergency room, to, “be strong and be smart.” Of course, I was I mess at this time anyway and this made me cry. That phrase has stuck in my mind and won’t leave me be, long after the fact. My initial response was to be strong is to be smart, but as time has gone on I’ve become convinced that you can only be one or the other, but never both. Have you ever met a strong person who admitted to not being okay? Who admitted to needing help? How about a smart person who refused to be honest about their feelings? It’s been stupefying me. How in the world could I ever be both, even if it was for you..?

To the boy who has my heart.

To the boy who has my heart. Thank you. You’ve had my heart since I was five and you were six and I had the biggest crush on you. You crushed my heart then when you moved across town, only to be seen during school hours. Thank you. You reminded my heart what it felt like to skip a beat when I was twelve and you were thirteen and all I wanted was to be the one who was in love. You hurt me with feelings for another, more perfect girl. Thank you. You stole every piece of my mind and heart at thirteen when you moved down the street from me. You became my best friend. My go to. The boy I was in love with. You tormented me as you fell in love with another. Thank you. You stole every thought, every heartbeat, every fear, every pain away when I was fifteen and you were almost sixteen. You love my broken, shattered pieces and it amazes me. You love the pieces of me I absolutely hate. You love me when I can’t even look in the god damn mirror. Thank you. Please be careful with me.. I’m fragile, damaged, one wrong move and I may not survive. Be fragile with me for all of the times I can’t be for myself. Thank you.. I love you. I always have and always will.