There is no reason for me to feel like this. There is no reason to hate myself this much. There is no reason to treat myself in this way and there is no reason for me to want to disappear.
I don’t know what type of thing I’m supposed to write on here so hopefully if I let it all flow out it’ll be right. Its getting to the point where I can’t talk to anyone anymore. I can’t hurt them. I can’t let them feel anything close to this. Although I’m not sure if it can be considered a feeling or a lack of. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know anything anymore.
But what I do know is that this thing is becoming all too familiar. This pain and emptiness at the same time. This dullness and heaviness. Where everything that was once inside me has been taken out and filled with lead. I picture shredding my arm up. I picture the release and relief. But in reality I’m too scared to even do that. I do a couple of small cuts and I can’t handle more pain. I’m scared that people will see and find out. I’m scared I will disappoint them. I have already failed them. And I’ve failed at cutting.
I’m tired. I can’t sleep at night and I can’t focus in the day. Looks like I will screw up exams once again.
I remember being in middle school and spending all of lunch time laughing about nothing and being surrounded by my best of friends. Now they’re gone and have been replaced by new ones. Now I’ve gone and have been replaced by the shadow of me. I long for it to be like that again. I know it won’t be. I know it can’t be. But to just feel that ‘happiness’. But what even is this happiness. Are we all so focused on being happy that we don’t even realise that we actually are happy. I know that I should be. I have a great life, no problems with it. But I can also say that I know that this is not happy.
I started taking meds. They worked for a while and then stopped. When they upped the dose it worked again and I finally felt free. I was better and i wasn’t going back to that place again. My friend was gone and wasn’t coming back. But then my head was buzzing and spinning. Everything was too good. I wasn’t in control of what i was doing, someone else was doing it for me. I was too happy, but it wasn’t happiness. It was too much. And then I crashed. And I don’t know if or how I can manage it this time. I don’t know if this all too familiar feeling is becoming a comfort blanket, that I hate, but still cannot throw away.
I used to have a boyfriend whom I loved. Now I can’t stand to see his face. I will instigate sex with him in order to hurt myself. I then cry because i can’t cope with it. I make him out to be the bad guy. But really its me.