Place

You find comfort in the pointless things, because sometimes they make it all worth it. Then they make you happy, joyful, and console you. It's nice to have something there as a sort of buffer for the next time life throws you for a loop, an extra little something that has to be sawn through before you're vulnerable. You use these things to rebuild yourself.

Then the next time you break it makes it a bit easier, because you don't snap so easily. But it's not like they can make you invulnerable--they can't, and we all know that. You know that. You're always going to be torn apart again, driven to the edge where you find yourself staring at the meds for just a bit longer than could be considered a casual glance, and then it's a prolonged look. You deny that you're thinking about it, because the fact that you, indestructible you, who comes through everything unscathed, could be debating it is insane. Soon, however, you can't say that you aren't any longer, and admit it, just to yourself, and it disgusts you that you would ever think that, but you did and in the dark times you still do.

There's enough about yourself that disgusts you already and you don't need that on top of it. So you push it aside and move on with your life, to problems you need to solve to keep you away from those meds. You're a strong person and a weak person at the same time, stable but so close to collapsing. You love yourself and hate yourself at the same time, because you can't decide. Somehow you manage to hold yourself together, between smiling every time you think of "All you gotta do is cut off your shins and it's like BAM!--elf!" and knowing that re-reading that bio chapter seven times the night before got you the highest score out of the two hundred smartest kids in the school. Because you have moments and things worth living for, and those meds are quitting. If you give in all you do is admit that your weak half could overpower the strong half, that you can't survive adolescense like every person who's ever lived past the age of 20 could.

Some people have an excuse for that, a viable reason. You don't. You have all these reasons to weather the storm, and almost none to not--except that it's too hard. And that's no excuse, not one you'd ever accept.