In My Blood // Shawn Mendes

by - March 30, 2018

It isn't in my blood
 I should be asleep right now but I needed to write this... I've hit my low- this right here is my lowest point. A razor blade resting on the edge of my bathtub. My apartment is silent besides my muffled sobs. A little bit of blood on my tiled floor. This is my low.
 This past week I have put my self through so much Hell. So much pain on purpose that I didn't need to bare. Dragging my own self down in such a quick descend. Putting myself in harms way, doing dangerous things, destroying my own self to the core. Doing everything I can to send myself further into this darkening spiral that no one else can see but me. Doing all of the extremes that could drive a person into madness.

Fast forward to a little before midnight. My arm is bandaged, I've stopped crying, I'm drinking a beer and scrolling through my phone not really paying attention. I'm just trying to kill time until midnight and the new music comes out from a young man who's wise beyond his years. Finally it's midnight and a few of my friends are texting me asking if I've heard it yet.
 I press play, turn the volume all the way up, and close my eyes.

Help me. My eyes squeeze tightly shut as I can already tell what kind of words are about to come next. It's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can't. It isn't in my blood. My breath stops, I feel my nose start to burn and my eyes start to water. Laying on the bathroom floor, feeling nothing. I'm overwhelmed and insecure, give me something. I could take to ease my mind slowly. I open my eyes and blink away the tears that passed through. My skin starts to crawl with the feeling of regret and pain. Just have a drink and you'll feel better. Just take her home and you'll feel better. Keep telling me that it gets better. Does it ever? I look over at the empty beer bottle at my desk. I feel the cuts on my arm start to burn underneath the bandage. I think of the night at the bar where I walked in alone. I feel my chest start to cave and the tears start to flow.  Help me, it's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up. No medicine is strong enough. I think of all the things I used as medicine to fix this emptiness- to fix this pain. The wrong things I chose, the bad decisions I made. The things that ended up destroying me a bit more.  Someone help me. I'm crawling in my skin. Sometimes I feel like giving up. But I just can't. It isn't in my blood. My insides are on fire. My chest is burning. My heart is breaking. The tears are streaming. The sobs are escaping. My body is shaking. The familiarity of every word is sinking in. It isn't in my blood. That familiar feeling of something inside me telling me once again "okay- that's enough" is speaking up quietly from within.  Looking through my phone again feeling anxious. Afraid to be alone again, I hate this. That girl inside of me who has done this way too many times is telling me that this is enough. This, right here, is your sign- my sign- that this is enough. It's time to pull myself back together now. I am the only one who is here for myself at the end of the day. I am alone. And alone, I can put myself back together again. In the end, it is I who has to put myself back together again.  I'm trying to find a way to chill, can't breathe, oh. Is there somebody who could... I take a few deep breaths and try to calm my sobbing. I eventually steady my breathing and just a few sobs escape between breaths. They're jagged and raspy but I'm breathing now. I'm breathing. Help me, it's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up. No medicine is strong enough. Someone help me. I'm crawling in my skin. Sometimes I feel like giving up. But I just can't. I think back to everything I've done. How much I feel like giving up on everything right now. How much I want to just go to sleep and quit. I've slept two days straight this week- three days straight last week- and more than that the week before. My skin is literally crawling with anxiety and self hate... but that small voice inside me tells me I can't. I can't do this. I can't give up. It isn't in my blood. It isn't in my blood. I need somebody now. I need somebody now. Someone to help me out. I need somebody now. The somebody who I need right now is myself. I have been strong for everyone but myself. And now, now that no one needs me- now that I am alone... I can be there for myself. Help me, it's like the walls are caving in. Sometimes I feel like giving up. But I just can't. It isn't in my blood. It isn't in my blood. It isn't in my blood. I need somebody now. It isn't in my blood. I need somebody now. It isn't in my blood


 I will do my best to explain this as well as I can. I have never connected with a song so perfectly in a moment like this. Shawn Mendes wrote a song titled A Little Too Much which I played way too many times in my car while getting lost around the city when I first started to drive- I'd always end up having to pull over and compose myself while crying in a parking lot. I played it while crying on my kitchen floor asking 'how is it simply this hard to just survive?'. I played it in the shower while allowing myself to just cry- to let it all out and cry. I've ingrained it in my brain that when I heard the first chord at his concert- I told my sister to just be quiet and listen. By the end of it she was sobbing. I plan to get the words "Too Much" tattooed on my arm above my self harm scars because it is a song that got me through 2016 and 2017 in my darkest times. It was the song that told me "hey, it's okay- you aren't alone in this". Now In My Blood is that song because it is the song that struck my emotions harder, struck me deeper, and sounded so much more raw that it brought me to a different kind of tears. It brought me almost tears of relief. I didn't feel alone in that moment I listened to it. I didn't feel ashamed for feeling so broken. I didn't feel bad for feeling so depressed and anxious. I didn't feel alone in my endeavors to fix this in whatever extreme I could take to or to call my medicine. I didn't feel alone- even though I was. This equally anxious and perhaps depressed human being wrote these words that hit every parallel I could think of or feel and then released it at the exact right time. A time where I needed to really just cry and then to hear something to trigger that voice in me... And I only cry to parallels. I'm an emotional person, but I don't cry as much as it seems. I only cry when some thing triggers something I'm dealing with or can deeply relate to. Something that is parallel to my life at the exact moment.
 So when I heard these lyrics- and I felt that sudden and sickening familiar feeling... I lost it. I sobbed. I sobbed while listening to it on repeat for a good hour. In this past week I have done a lot of things I deeply regret. Things I knew would hurt me. No one knows all of what I've done but me and one other person- someone I know who goes without judgement. I'm leaving the things I did in those moments before I heard this song. Before that voice inside me said "okay- this is enough now". Before something in my blood told me it was time to get off that bathroom floor and to get back to living. But to do it better this time. To do it for myself this time.

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