When you’re up, you can only go down.

My life has infact, gotten no better. The exercise isn’t looking like anything has changed, I still hate my body. My friends are somewhat ignoring my issues because they make them uncomfortable. Because they never have anything to say to me, so they just smile sympathetically and soon enough it’s forgotten.

What I’ve discovered is that my father has been diagnosed with Bi-Polar, and this explains why he’s such a dick when only moments ago he would have been being lovely. But now, he wants to lean onto me. Because I’m his daughter, and the only thing he has left, I feel obligated to look after him, even though I’m not sure I even class him as a father anymore.

Mother has bought me sleeping pills because I’ve not been getting any of it. I’m becoming scared of the dark again, and my light is usually out and if it’s on my mum will turn it off. I just sit in my quilts sobbing like a child. I hear things, I see shadows even though I really can’t see shit. It freaks the fuck out of me, so no, I’m not sleeping.

I’m still cutting my thigh. I cover it up with foundation and things, and use bio oil to try make the scars fade, but it doesn’t work.Every time I harm myself, I do it over the same almost healed wounds and they re-open.

The suicidal thoughts have stayed. I don’t want to die, but I honestly do. I wish I could just fall into a coma or something, so I could just take a fucking break or whatever. I  don’t want to hurt my family by dying, my little brother is everything to me, but I just can’t stand being miserable a moment longer. I try my hardest to be happy, you know. I TRY.