I wrote this an hour ago... I don't know if this is how I feel but I'm posting it for journal reasons:
"I feel like a doll that people were trying to prop up and I kept swaying... side, to side... but now whoever was trying gave up... and I'm just lying here with concrete on my cheek and knots in my hair... missing a shoe perhaps?
I want to die.
I wish I wasn't here.
There's no point.
I'm useless and a nuisance and I can't do anything to get out of this hole I've dug. I've got so many issues now... I can't even PRETEND to be normal. I can't ever PRETEND to be happy. I can't fake a fucking smile.
I don't want to be here. I want to die.
This is why I stayed with BB even though I knew we shouldn't stay together. He gave me purpose to breathe; even if we were in a bad spot, at least we were in it together.
Before BB I wanted to die; after BB I want to die.
With BB I wanted to die... LESS.
It's not fair to him for me to go back though. He deserves someone who wants the same things as he does. I already wasted so much of his time. I feel so bad.
I wish I wanted what he wanted. I really do. I wish I never left in July... who knows where we'd be? I wish I could talk about that period of time with him... there's so many things I can't talk about because of judgement or because it's too heavy for peoples' ears.
Why were we both so manic those last couple of months? I think back and my brain gets scared and stops me. The thoughts that manage to seep through are crazy and don't seem real. Everything was too vivid but such a short memory, a flash.
I don't even want to write about it, it'd get too long, it'd hurt too much.
Just know, that right here in this moment, I've already cut a little bit. I found a dull box cutter and made just a few cat scratches on my upper thigh, well 18 to be exact.
Just know that at some point I'm going to get something sharper, and I'm going to cut a lot deeper like I used to.
I don't want to feel things right now, it's too much. I'm going to mask everything with physical pain. I'm going to go until I'm numb like I used to be... nice and numb... I shouldn't have opened up the way I did. I'm a fucking idiot.
"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody..."
I know people my age will be tell me to grow the fuck up. Once you turn 22, people don't care about self-harm the same way. Younger than 22, it's all tragic and people say, "OMG come talk to me!! I love you!" but after that point, people literally have asked me what the fuck am I doing even THINKING about it. Like, am I stupid? Grow the fuck up, it's time to be an adult.
They look down on me and stop talking to me; they leave me in the dust it feels... but I don't blame them. It's not their fault that I find everything too hard. Not their fault that they couldn't pep up a weak contestant... because they ended up stopping for a mentally unstable piece of shit to CARRY, drag at their side... I'd run too bitch.
I was told that I didn't die in that bathtub because last year because I secretly wanted to live; meaning it was all for attention or that I'm too weak/stupid/pathetic to go through with suicide...
Do you know how shameful that is? I wish I had just kept my stupid fucking mouth shut. I wish I had kept wearing sweats in the summer and kept my stupid fucking smile on my face... because once I took it off, I couldn't seem to find where the fuck I left it.
I want to talk to BB but I know he's no relief. No one is relief. Everyone has lives... I used to have a life. Now I have nothing. I'm so stuck. I don't need help, I just need a shit ton of pills, please.
Booze makes me sleepy and sad; I want drugs goddamn it.
I wish I was prettier and better at sex... because then I'd have at least stupid boys around me, or I could sell myself, and have stories for youtube or something. I'm ugly though and BB told me I was bad at sex back in June of 2014, so I stopped trying because I didn't know what to do...
But in my defence, I had only done it a handful of times whilst incredibly drunk. BB is my first and only sober fuck...
I'm so embarrassing... I wish I had died already. Making it past 19 was definitely a mistake on my part, I gotta say...
I can't even manage to send B her fucking Christmas present, and it's almost 2 complete months into the calendar year...
I'm sorry B if you're reading this, I really am!!! I had the best intentions. I shouldn't have told you about it if I couldn't manage to send the damn fucking thing...
Ps. I just wanna say that I hate when people say it's selfish; suicide that is... I mean it's the person's life. They should be able to control their own waking hours? Yes, it affects those around them, but only because of how society has built up death. Death in all honesty isn't a big deal... I think it's selfish to make someone continue a life they can't move forward in... idk that's my thoughts..."
Since writing that, BB texted me. He texted me 2 days after the original breakup asking what I had of his, then 2 days after that replied to me with "K", and then today, texted with an actual mini conversation about sending me my things...
I broke the dull part of the blade off and hid it under my mattress until I can stuff it into an empty garbage bag. I cut a little more and goddamn is that shit addictive... I feel like I felt back in uni... a little bit deeper, a little deeper, no not good enough...
I'm drunk also, maybe I should note that... I started drinking at aroundddd 4:30? Now as I finish proof-reading this all it's midnight, 12:01. It only takes me one drink to get drunk with my medication though, so keep that in mind...
I still stand by everything I said though. I feel a little better, I mean I was crying when I wrote that stuff originally, now I'm not; but I still agree with the fact that I wish I was dead.
Oh life...
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