hammie's writings

trigger warning: suicidal ideation kilometer 0 it’s hard to go on walks when all you can think about is how much you want to die.  you put on your running shoes and turn the music on so loudly your ears start ringing,  but even then, your thoughts come crashing down like angry waves on a shore.  it takes a tremendous amount of strength for you to eventually start walking.   kilometer 1    you try to sort through the flurry of thoughts but they’re going by too fast.  a headache starts forming in your head, but you write it off as lack of sleep. your insomnia returned a few weeks ago, sleep replaced with long nights staring at a ceiling for answers, you can’t find.    “what did i do to deserve this?” silence.  “will i ever be enough?” silence. “when did i stop feeling?” silence.   the silence is so loud it bleeds into your nightmares.   kilometer 3   your lungs hurt, but you’re not sure if it’s the wind or if it’s the consta...

At the beginning of 2022, I wished for growth and discovery. I wanted to grow as a person and discover myself. I wanted to grow in my relationships with others. To love freely and fall in love with the mundane. Here’s the thing, we always wish for growth and discovery, but no one tells us how painful the growing pains are. Sometimes, growing up felt like grieving to me. I was in denial of the changes I was going through. I was angry, sad, and devastated. It hurt to let go of the things I knew as true and it was very difficult to accept the changes that occurred because of it.  I lost big parts of myself in 2022. I forgot what makes me happy. I forgot how to exist just for the sake of existing. I forgot how to appreciate the little things instead of focusing on accomplishing them. I will forever mourn the sunsets I didn’t enjoy, the rain I didn't run under, or how I took everyday things like the feeling of warmth seeping from a hot mug for granted. I lost my words at some point, a...

tw: weight, disordered eating, anxiety, depression. you spend your whole life fighting silent battles, that are now manifesting physically. you build  mental cages so high; you trap yourself inside.  you develop so much anxiety, that it feels like a permanent  tremor in your hands, a constant irregular beat of your heart.  you carry your problems and tragedies so elegantly,  that at some point the ache in your bones and the darkness  that bleeds under your eyes become your defining characteristics.  they’ll ask your mom about how your clothing now seems  like it’s borrowed, and she’ll laugh and say it’s just a new diet. and how can you explain that you’re so full of emptiness  that you can’t stomach the thought of food most of the time.  or how sometimes you break down in the middle of the night  when no one is watching as you desperately try to fill the void  with whatever food you can find only to cry about it later. they’ll ...

Today my social psychology professor asked us what roles we are playing in the current moment and with my brothers’ own online classes echoing in the background. I proceeded to answer with “student.”  “But aren’t you a daughter or a sister?” He asked me. Aren’t I? It’s all I’ve ever known. Being the eldest daughter, the eldest sister, the responsible, the wise, the supposedly caring figure is all I have ever known. It used to be as easy as breathing, but my lungs seem to need a little help these days. The words weigh on me, drowning me in the sea of expectations and responsibilities they hold. Or have they always done so? “You sound mature for your age.” An adult would usually comment. Impressed with the way I held myself, or the way I expressed my thoughts. I used to bask in these words, offer shy smiles, a little proud of myself. Today, I’m 21. These words feel like a slap to the face. They ring in my ears long after they’ve been said. Maturing too early comes with a cost. Somet...