I have been totally numb. I have been told that they want me dead, they want to hit me,Â I’ve been told that I make everyone insane with only my existenceÂ – and I have felt nothing about it. I have wanted to cry but haven’t been able to make tears, I have run away from a mental hospital and fought with the nurses. I have wanted nothing but die, I have cut too many slices and what more…
Even failed on failing, too many times.
And I thought it was the worst it could be. But no, I don’t even feel depressed at the moment. I’m not hopless or anything – my therapist said to me that I’ve healed in anÂ incredible way and we’re about to get theÂ whole treatment, drugs and therapy, ended in the end of May. And I’m glad about it.
I’ve been well in senior-high, I’ve made some very good friends and had pretty nice grades. I’ve even met a nice boy that likes me too, and we are kinda dating or something, I think. He’s said that he even loves me, so what’s wrong?
All I think about is suicide. I’m happy! And I think hanging, I can’t forget how to make a hangman’s knot, I can’t forget the blades or throw them away, I can’t stop thinking of how to get a gun. I’ve got friends, I spend lots of fun time and I think cutting and starving. I think what’s the better option – to starve myself into death or to kill myself immediately.
And it is horrible. I am happy. I am happy, happy, happyhappyhappy. And I still think these thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me – maybe it’s tattooed on my heart: TOTALLY SUCKED ONE.
I just don’t know what to do. It feels useless to tell my therapist, and also I don’t want to dissapoint her. I’ve been depressed since, I don’t even remember when. The first time I was about to kill myself was when I was ten years old, and now I’m amost 18. My mum is depressed, my grandmum killed herself.
Maybe I was never ment to be born. Maybe I really am ment to be dead.
I am happy.