I just don’t understand

Sometimes I just do things and don’t realize how fucked up those things are until it’s too late. It’s like something just takes over my mind or body. I have sex with boys that I don’t really like then I get mad at them for calling. I am not a good person. Or I don’t know how to be one. I don’t really know. I always say that I’m not just one of those bitchy girls who plays mind games and fucks around. But I am, that’s exactly what I do. In fact, I’m probably a lot worse than all those girls because the entire time I just pretend that it’s not really me. Or that’s what I tell myself. I don’t really know. It never feels like it’s me. Looking back, thinking about all the things I’ve said to make these boys like me. But it’s not really me. I am not like that. But I can’t stop pretending. Then I get mad at the boys for falling in love. Because it’s not really me that they love. They don’t even know me; not the real me at least. And it’s not their fault, but I hate them anyway. What the hell is wrong with me!? Sometimes I feel like I am watching myself do these things, just watching and not participating. I feel like my life is some show that I have to watch as the story unfolds. I watch myself make horrible choices and I watch myself fumble around with the consequences. I watched myself try to die five times. And now I have to watch myself try to pick up the pieces of the life I broke. And the entire time I have no   idea why. Why the fuck do I do these things? Why did I start taking all the drugs in high school? I know it wasn’t to fit in or to be cool, because nobody else knows about it. Why did I get drunk all the time? Why did I go for the guy I knew would cheat on me, rather than the one who just wanted to see me happy? Why did it hurt so bad when that boy, who I knew would cheat me, slept with someone else? And why, five years later, do I still fuck around with that boy, who I knew would cheat on me and who don’t really like that much? And why did they pump my stomach at the hospital when all I really wanted was as end? Why did they send me to the psych ward where they all pretended to give a shit while really giving none? Then they sent me a bill that I have to pay or I can’t ever own a home. But I didn’t want to be “saved”, I didn’t want all that poison out of me and I didn’t want to spend that time in the psych ward with the people who pretend to care. Where are all those people now? How could they say that they’re trying to help when they don’t give a shit about what happens when I’m not locked up? It’s been a year since the last time and I’m no better than I was. I won’t try to kill myself again so I guess they win. But I still don’t understand why me being alive and miserable is better than me not existing. Especially because one day I will die; why is it so wrong to just speed up the process? Why is it so wrong for me to take all the medicine they gave to me when it’s alright to take just some of it? Why do other people get to decide what life is all about even when it’s my life that they’re talking about? Why was it such a waste when I dropped out of college? Why the fuck do I have to get married and make babies. I don’t understand why my entire life I was told to not worry about the boys and what everyone else thinks, but now that I’m older I’m wasting my life, the life that I don’t even want, because I never want to get married. And why do I get nagged for not eating when I’m told that I’m overweight. Why am I told to go to college and get a better paying job when all they used to say is money won’t buy happiness? Why did they teach me about abstinence and contraceptives if I have to want to be a mother? Why is it so wrong for me to want to be dead when they told me I could be whatever I wanted? Why am told to never lie when everything I was ever told is a lie? Why is it so wrong to daydream if I was told fairy tales everyday? They gave me all these conflicting messages and all this bullshit advice then they wonder how I could ever have failed at life. It’s unnatural to not want a child and to not want to live anymore, but it’s alright to keep bringing fucked up people onto this planet that’s already filled to the brim with people who either refuse to leave or aren’t let to leave by the doctors and nurses and social workers who are “saving lives” when they pump poison out of stomachs. Why is alright for someone to kill another person, living miles away, across an ocean, in the name of freedom, but I am not free to take my own life?