Birthdays are so much fun. I had the best birthday ever. Yeah, it was great.
I guess it actually wasn’t that bad. I was sick all day, but I got some nice gifts, had a lovely dinner with my family (minus brother) and didn’t run into any fights or issues. But at the same time, it was brutal. My insides feel like they need to come out. It’s been like this for a few days now. I can’t eat. It’s almost painful. But I’m not “sick”. It’s not an upset stomach or the flu, it’s impossible to explain. It just feels like my body is telling me to die.
For the first time in my life, I told someone I hurt myself. Face to face. The first guy I’ve ever told. I find it far easier to open up to and connect with women. Whenever I’m with my fellow males I feel a need to act manly. Be stronger. But I told him. I thought he had been cutting, I asked him. But he told me no, then asked me. I knew he was lying though, so I pressed and he admitted it’s happened a few times, but he doesn’t “do it” per se. Not habitually. And he just knew I did. He saw the scars. Or at least he saw the fear of god in my eyes earlier. I’m sure for someone who knows me, that look of panic was more obvious than the dozens of deep red slash marks.
The thought now that I told him is actually sort of nice. It’s a massive weight off of my shoulders. But at the same time, it was probably the worst decision I’ve made since, oh I don’t know, April? Not so long ago. Ha. Guess I’m just prone to fucking up a lot. The thing is, now that he knows, I have to hide everything. Before I could be upset, even depressed in front of him. I could talk about the reasons and the emotions. Everything but the cutting. I could lean on him a bit. Now he’s worried though. Worried shitless. How could I have been so stupid? Piling that on top of someone with so much already on his plate. So now I’ll have to hide the sadness when I’m with him. He just wasn’t calm enough with it. He didn’t understand. It made me feel like an alien. Our deep connection severed. He’s no longer a brother, just another stranger. Which fucking blows.
I’m so alone. I wanted to be not alone. I still do. But it’s hopeless. I was too convinced that he was the same. I was wrong, and it was too late to back out. I let him in too far. I don’t want to make that mistake again, and yet I so badly want to have someone to talk to about all of this shit. I hope it doesn’t come down to what it seems to be. If in order to keep my friends I also need to keep the demons to myself, then so be it. Life without those people would be worse than life with these issues. I understand them. I accept them. I just want some help with them is all.