I don’t really want to die, just disappear. (TW) (Vent)

I don’t even know why I’m typing this to be honest, right now I feel reckless and restless and bored and tired.

I’m fed up of being poor and being tired and feeling like I’m being judged for every little thing I say and do.

I’m tired of being ugly. I hate how my face looks, with it’s stupid round jaw and lumpy nose and disgusting frizzy short hair, I hate how I look fat in every photo, I hate how I am fat, acres and acres of disgusting wobbly blotchy skin wobbling away, taking up too much space.

I hate how much I wish I could stop eating, but I’m a fat ***** with no willpower who just loves food too much. I hate how jealous I am of my mum, with her skinny limbs and tiny clothes and pointy cheekbones, and I hate her for chucking up every meal, it’s such a fucking waste, why couldn’t she just starve herself. I hate how I made myself purge before after I binged, but I could never make a habit of it, so I keep shovelling tonnes of fat and muck down my throat.

I hate how all my family cooks is shit so I will never be perfect and skinny. I hate how all my friends seem to have perfect families who support them and love them and cherish them, while all I have is an alcoholic who drinks at every important occasion of my life and constantly picks fights while slurring and wobbling her way round the house while making me feel like a complete disgusting piece of shit, but she thinks she has the right to act like this because she’s SUCH a special little snowflake because she was adopted and treated like shit as a child. I hate how she’s fucking me up too. I hate her so much, I hate the ay she constantly talks to herself and told my 11 year old sister to run me through with a sword. I hate the hours I’ve wasted crying because of her. I hate how my dad won’t leave her. I hate how one minute he can be an amazing father who I get along with and then a tempermental bastard. I hate how he has arthritis. I hate how as a little kid they never let me socialize and treated me like shit. I hate how as a little kid I always had to wear second hand clothes and I still do, it’s horrible to go out in the early mornings to go to boot sales and buy other people’s reject clothes and have to pass them off to your friends as new.

I hate how I feel restless and bored and empty and lonely when I should be grateful for the fact I have a home and friends and a boyfriend. I hate how I ‘gave up’ cutting a year ago but I’ve had a couple of relapses I’ve had to cover up. I hate how when I’m angry or when I look in a mirror sometimes I hit and punch myself because I’m disgusting.

I hate how, even though I have friends, and I am lucky that people would choose to like me, they all feel so distant and not real, and sometimes I resent them so much for their money and families and beauty and happy perfect lives. I hate how another friend of mine has the same sort of issues  do, but everyone is so supportive and caring about her, whereas with me it doesn’t seem to matter because I’m not obviously self destructive. I hate being me.

I hate how I have an amazing boyfriend, but he pisses me off about minor things. I hate how sometimes I feel like a sex object, even though I kind of present myself like one. I hate how I have unrealistic expectations and how I expect him to sweep in and save me. I hate how even though I try to talk to him he doesn’t fucking understand and never will. I envy him his lovely family and his days out and his money and the fact people care about him.

I hate myself for fucking up the opportunity to get into the top university in the country all because I’m a stupid lazy ***** who doesn’t have the motivation to do anything. I hate how I haven’t revised enough for my final exams and I’ll probably fuck them up but somehow it doesn’t seem to matter to me.

I hate how I lie all the time and I don’t even know why. I hate how I lie about having feelings and ambitions and everything. I hate how I almost manage to lie myself into normality but not quite. I hate how I make things up to try and seem more dramatic just so somebody will pity me and like and want to be my friend and make things better and fix my life. I hate how I want attention from people I don’t deserve.

I am a stupid lazy useless disgusting lump of meat who is a waste, but the irony of it all is that I think I deserve better than my lot in life, but I don’t have the motivation or emotion to strive for anything.

I hate how writing this was supposed to be cathartic but I can’t even cry about it, I feel so far removed from my own life sometimes.

I hate being the world’s most ugly narcissist.

I hate how right now I want to just slash my skin with a razor.
I hate myself and I wish I didn’t have to exist.

I don’t exactly want to be dead, I just want to be someone else, I just want to skip being me.