The undead.

I had no sleep last night, seriously! I just lay there, eventually i gave up and decided to read, i finished the book and then i was totally stuck, eventually i fought it and fell asleep at four needing to be up at seven which sucked. Although while i was laying i managed to think about quite a few things. 

Recently i have finished reading this book called Kiss of life By Daniel Waters, It is the sequel to Generation Dead. These books are both brilliant, I recommend them to anyone. Becca you might like them. I don't know if any of my readers have read them. Basically People who die between the age of 14 to 18 years old come back from the dead. Refereed to as the undead, Differently Biotic and some other things. It goes through how it is for them in returning to life and the effects it has on the local community and society. 

I could relate to this because In my mind i feel like they do, I find simple tasks difficult to do, I feel as though my movements are slow and nothing compared to the pace and movement of the world around me. I'm not accepted in the local community, I feel numb most of the time although sometimes i do have moments of what i suppose is happiness but I'm not sure if they are just figments of my imagination or me just creating it in my head because i want so badly for things to be the way they used to be. I'm constantly searching for a reason or understanding of why i feel the way i do or reasons for me still being here. After my suicide attempt nothing has been the same again, not that i could ever of imagined it to be but Once you hit rock bottom things are meant to improve and nothing can be as bad as when you were down, right?

I feel as if I'm clinging onto every last bit of life in me, every little tiny bit of hope i have and what scares me the most is that slowly its all degrading and I'm losing each piece of string and eventually what will i be left with? 

Last night i pictured myself looking at a deep thick dark forest and i thought thats everything i have fought through the past six or seven years. Then i turn around and before me is a sharp edge to a cliff of which i can see the bottom. I have to choices, i either, jump putting everything i have learnt to waste or i difficultly and slowly make my way across the weak, pathetic bridge of which i also have a chance of falling off at any point, losing my grip again. Slipping just the once, one mistake and thats me falling. 

The true hear is not in falling; 

"Fallings not the problem is when i hit the ground it causes all the grief,

If i had no where to land i wouldn't be scared at all"

Falling is so much easier than crossing that bridge but i can't jump. Not anymore the moment has passed. I have made the first few steps. And guess what its Hell, I have a fear of heights and every step i take I'm not sure if it's my last or my first on the way to the place I'm suppose to be.