“I don’t know what to do. My life is empty. I’ve wasted too much time. I’m useless. I’m insignificant.
I wish I was strong enough to kill me.
Why am I not?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
After all, it’s the best thing to do…”
That’s how my diary started today. That’s how, with some very tiny differences, my diary has started and gone on for too much time.
I’m tired. I just want to sleep. I just want everything to finish, right now.
Why do people who love living so much die all of a sudden?
I don’t like living. I never have.
The world is so full of people. And I’m such a shit I’m probably not even a real person. Killing my self would just be the first right decision of my life. Yet, I’ve been thinking about it since I was 7 and I’m still here, years and years later.
Why am I so weak?
Every morning, when I wake up and realise I’m still alive, I hate my self a bit more.
This is so unfair. Some people really don’t have anything, but they go on. Why do I keep complaining then?
Well, I kinda have an answer, actually, which is that I don’t deserve any of these things.
I’ve never done anything good. My family is full of fucking genius kids who just get prizes and do every fucking thing so perfect. Why did I have to be the mistake? the black sheep?
I’ve tried so hard to change this. To do something good. But everything I do, I do it wrong and I keep hurting people who are around me.
There’s nothing I can do. I am a complete failure.
The first time I actually tried to kill my self I was 11. I tried to jump from the window of a college, in Ireland. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried since then. When I was 13 I got extremely depressed, but my parents didn’t believed me until they realised I had lost 20 kg and was weighting 43 kg and they saw the cuts on my arms. They completely panicked. Had to change 5 psychologists before making them sure everything was alright. But nothing has actually ever been alright. I hate my body. It’s so freaking disgusting and now I also gained those lost 20 kilos. It’s awkward to walk with it. It’s awkward to live in it. I had been sexually abused since I was 5 until I was 10 by my baby sitter and my younger brother. Even the thought of this makes me sick. So sick i gotta go to the toilet and vomit all over again. But I can’t. I’ve already vomited before, so now I have nothing to vomit. The acids going through my throat are so painful. My throat hurts, as if 100 needles were just stuck in it. People have never liked me. I have always been the one left alone. The one nobody wanted to share their desk with. The weirdo. The only person who saw something good in me kept beating me and almost broke my wrists, when I was 15. I never really had a friend, but c’mon, who has? It’s just that nobody has ever ever ever enjoyed spending time with me. Oh unless a guy, just cause he feels like nobody could love him and he’s pretty sure I’ll be the only one. I tried to be in love with him, cause well I hoped things would have gotten better, I thought that it couldn’t hurt, even cause we live at about 20 000 km of distance. But I made a mess, as usual. She was right. I’m wrong. I’m a *****. I’m disgusting. I’m the greatest disappointment ever. I’m no good. I’m sleazy. I’m a freak of nature. I should die. I really should. It would be for the best. It would be the first good thing I do with my life. But I’m pretty sure my parents won’t understand it. They would get desperate, even if they don’t really love me. They would feel guilty for not being good enough as parents. But everybody will tell them that it was clear I had something wrong.
Oh damn! Why don’t I do it?
I’ve got a plan: I’ll walk by some rails, until I’ll get into a dark tunnel. Here I’ll take all the tablets I have, drinking a lot of alcohol, and if I find some drugs I’ll take them, so that I get fucked up enough. And I’ll go on the rails, waiting for the train. In that dark tunnel, with all those trains going over me, nobody will ever find me. Maybe my parents will think I was kidnapt or something.
So I’ve got a good plan and all the possible good reasons to do it.
So why don’t I do it?
(sorry if I made some mistakes, but I’m italian and didn’t really want to read this shit again to check it. It took me 2 hours to write this damn thing, cause even writing has become somehing so difficult and tiring to do)
4 comments
I’m glad you don’t end it… and I hope, in time, you take the time to read back over what you wrote. You are so much more than the challenges and difficulties that you wrote. If I knew you better, I could probably point out some of the successes and achievements you had in life. Make a different kind of plan… Make a plan that will allow you to succeed. What do you like to do? What made you happy in the past? Use those as a guide… and start small. Each day you’re here is an opportunity to do something new… and an opportunity to push away from some of the challenges of your past. Only you can start the push… others, including people here, will certainly support you. You can be happy.
Sorry, but I can’t believe that. Not anymore. I’m sick and tired of being the sick sad jerk looking for love and attention. I’m sick and tired of receiving acts of pity, cause it’s so bad to commit suicide and stuff like that. I mean,c’mon, how many people have you told they were worth living? I don’t want to be told bullshits. Why should I believe in some nice lies? Just cause if I think that I am a good person, that I am useful, that I am good at something, I won’t kill my self? The world deserves good, capable, inteligent people who could fix things, not a weird hopeless italian girl who can’t make people happy and this world a better place to live.
I think you could make this world a better place to live… and I honestly don’t think there is anything stopping you. Everyone has a value… Sometimes you have to look deep for it. I hope you don’t end your life… and I absolutely do hope you find peace.
Weird people are the only interesting people, everyone else is mundane and usually ignorant to the world around, because we see the world differently is no reason to end your life, embrace your uniqueness and become it, wear it like armour.
I think your sad because you know your different, i think you have allways known, the only way you can be happy is if you let go of you need to feel normal and just be different. Do you think fashion designers are normal? i think not, Van Gogh cut off one of his ears for god sake.
Just accept it, and you can move forward,stop being sad about things you will never be able to change.
Peace 🙂