I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and my only ride to Anchorage was with my junkie friends. I stopped doing drugs almost three months ago, and it’s been fine, until yesterday. I got out of the doctor’s office and my friends went to go pick up some nifftys ( Heroin). It didn’t bother me until they were ready to smoke it. They couldn’t find any tin foil, so I helped them find it in the back seat of the car. I handed it to them and soon they were taking the black tar out and placing it on the foil. They got a hollowed out pen and stuck a lighter under it and began to take turns. The man setting next to me asks me if I smoke, I say no and he hands it to the next person. Soon they are royally fucked up and I’m setting in the back wishing I would’ve hit it. My friend driving turns to me and says sorry, I say I don’t give a shit. Through the rest of the night the blew threw two hundred and fifty dollars worth of black tar, and I found myself wallowing in guilt. The guilt didn’t stem from wanting to get fucked up,  but rather, that I aided them in getting fucked up. Smoking pot and taking shrooms isn’t really anything but heroin, its different. I repeatedly told them that I don’t give a shit if they smoke, went to a dealers house with them and let them smoke in my …

I do not like sharing feelings. They are very personal and I feel they belong to me, I don’t like wearing them on my sleeve for everyone else to see. In the recesses of my mind, I’m a much more critical and mean person then the one I portray for other people. Why would I tell them what I really think if all it would do is upset them or make them think less of me? And yet, every where I turn is someone or something encouraging me to share what I’m thinking. I have no problem speaking my mind with almost anyone I like about things that don’t matter, but I cannot for things that are important to me or I feel are just too mean to say.

I talk freely about work, the barest parts of relationships, friends, family, all the things that most everyone can relate to. But I have only told two people outside of my family that the reason we moved to where I live now is because my mom died and I had to move in with my dad. One of them knows that my dad used to threaten to sign me up for the navy for my bad grades and emotional distance the second I graduated. And none of them know how depressed I feel and that I have been thinking of suicide plans for the last five years. How can they? All those things are intensely wound to my feelings. If I tell them those things, they would …

I feel so worthless… there are so many things in my life I regret, things I’ve done and things I’ve let happen to me.
What do I have? A foggy, broken memory and issues with boundaries and confrontation. I recently let my neighbor get away with an act he pulled that was only about two shades from rape, it obviously wasn’t rape, but I maintain that it’s just a few shades away from it when 50 no’s through 2 hours of persistence is eventually followed by an ‘ok, fine’  and then followed by repeated ‘NO FREAKING WAY’  to his repeated attempts at going bareback – in about 2 minutes of sex he went through 2 condoms because he kept taking it off and trying to re-enter, forcibly at times… there was pushing, repeated no’s, hell… he even literally pried my legs open and tried to stick it in while saying, ‘no, it’s fine, just relax, it’s ok, just let it happen’… so after 2 minutes of completely unfulfilling sex and repeated arguing about the condom issue I finally said this wasn’t doing anything for me and made him finish himself off – then I told him to get out.

Even that in itself was vast  improvement for me…. I’ve been raped 5 times, or I should say, I’ve let myself get raped that many times.
Normally I’d just cry and ‘let it happen’, then feel completely worthless and never want to see the guy again – usually even thinking about them would send me into a deep panic, …

been thinkin alot more about my self demise as of late. the visions of impact are clearer than ever, just get on the freeway, up to 80, (i always remove my belt when getting on highway) and looking for a solid spot to veer into, i hope i have the courage this time!

You may not like puzzles or reading. But I know that SOMEONE will relate to this allegory. I hope you take the time to read it. I am not a fantastic writer by any means, but wanted to share with you my feelings.

THE MISSING PUZZLE PIECE

I feel like my life is like putting together a puzzle. Not one of those 100 piece puzzles that can be completed in an afternoon; but a legitimate 1000 piece puzzle. You clear off your kitchen table to begin working on the puzzle. The pieces are scattered about the surface and they’re all face up at this point just waiting to find their little puzzle piece neighbors. After weeks and weeks of work the puzzle is coming together. The puzzle is almost complete, and pretty much resembles the picture on the box sitting next to the table. You’ve worked tremendously hard to get to the point where you are at. Many hours have been spent finding the pieces and where they fit in the big picture. Seemingly every facet of the puzzle has been completed. As you put in the last few pieces, you come to a startling realization. There’s a missing piece. The last puzzle piece that will make everything complete and whole is nowhere to be found. Most people working on a regular puzzle and missing an ordinary piece wouldn’t mind all that much. They might say, “So I’m missing one little piece of my puzzle. Who cares?” But this puzzle is not regular or ordinary. And this …

I want to tell them it’s over. That they pushed me over the edge. They made me cutt so hard that i hit a vein and i bleed so much. I hate she thinks she gets no attention when he pays her money just to do good. How she has that guy who loves her the most, yet she hates him. They will see what they do to me. I broke because of them. I’m over the edge. Watching and waiting for that sweet , sweet death. I have never bleed so much. I thought it would hurt, but really i feel nothing. Emotionless and numb. Still. Over is where i am…

I’ve been doing pretty good lately, actually haven’t been on this website in like 2 weeks or so, not that there is anything wrong but just means i haven’t been having bad thoughts.

But I find myself in a pickle right now.

I fucked up, big time. Well big time in my eyes.

1. I’m in school and I might get kicked out of my classes. I hope I don’t cause that’s just would have been a fucking waste of my time and energy and I will fucking drop out of school.

2. In the past 3 weeks I have had unprotected sex with three guys. And I’m afraid of two things. I’m either Pregnant or have a STD. I think I’d rather have the STD though.

It’s a bad habit I’m trying to quit. Having sex with so many guys. I’ve gotten alot better but it’s hard to stop old ways. Was celibate for 2 1/2 months but then got sucked back in. So my partner camp now is 31, I’m only 20 and started having sex 2 months before my 18th birthday.

I plan to get tested but I have to wait like another week so I can make sure I get the right results but it’s stressing me out.

I can’t blame nobody but myself. I’m pretty fucking stupid and am kinda worthless.

I feel bad tho I might have gotten a std and given it to the other guys. One was really nice so that makes me rather be pregnant, i just feel bad for having to kill the …

The darkness of loneliness is an all consuming void that has taken over my very existence. The humiliation I am forced to endure is like a river and I am the rock, seemingly strong against it but am being eroded by its relentless onslaught. A simple slice and I could let the pain of life seep from my body and lull me to the deep dreamless sleep of peace. What do you do when oblivion seems warm and inviting like the embrace of a lover? You go to it, you embrace it, you let its sweet arms wrap around you and take away everything. What do you do when you have nothing to live for? What do you do when you have exhausted all your reasons to live? What do you do when the universe itself seems to go out of its way just to make you miserable? Who is anyone to tell me my life is precious? No one can truly understand what people like me go through. Why did I have to be born in the first place? I truly wish I never existed. I have my way out; I have a way to fix my problems. I never stood a chance in this world. Now I will die as I knew I would….alone…..unloved….in the same darkness that has been my unwanted companion for as long as I can remember. Tonight I embrace my destiny and let …

this is my first time writing a post. I’m not sure how to do this exactly but here it goes. i feel as if no one understands the extent of my sadness. i grew up with an abusive and drug addicted mother. i always had marks so as a result of that i never went to school until i moved in with my sister and her husband last year. now i go to school every day and am at the top of my class. at school i made some ”friends” but when ever i try to tell them how i feel they just talk about themselves. i hate it. their all so fake. i feel as if ill never make anything out of myself no matter what i do. i feel that I’m mean, selfish, ugly, and not significant in the slightest way. I’m sorry if this is hard to understand I’m in a really bad place right now.

I was looking for a sermon I had written several months ago, and I just happened to stumble upon a suicide note I wrote nearly three years ago….

Death is peaceful. It’s the transition that’s troublesome.
Isaac Asimov said that. I saw this in one of his books and suddenly, everything clicked.
I want to stop living, to be dead. I just wasn’t sure about the actual process of dying.
 
Now I am though.
 
I’m sorry. I know this is a stupid thing to do, but I just can’t handle any of this anymore. I can’t remember the last time I actually felt motivated to do anything meaningful. There use to be so many things I enjoyed doing. I can barely bring myself to draw anymore. This fucking note is the first real thing I’ve written in over a year. I sometimes go days without sleep. And sometimes I sleep for twenty or thirty hours straight. I know it’s probably not real, it’s probably all in my head, but I’m always in pain, or feeling sick. Sometimes I just want to keep sleeping forever. I don’t want to wake up, because waking up means I have to put the facades back on. I have to pretend to care that my classmates think I’m insane… or just stupid. I have to pretend to care that I’ve forgotten something… again. I have to pretend to care that I failed another test, or that my teachers are angry or disappointed with me. I have to pretend to smile when something happens that would …