Halfway there.

I don’t often post on forums or anywhere online. I’ve always kept everything to myself. I don’t really do any sharing about myself, to anyone. I don’t like drawing attention to myself. I’m not very social, I don’t like to go out. Being out and around others makes me incredibly tense and anxious. Even over the phone, or texts, facebook, email, etc. I just dont like people I guess. I have one person I love and care about. I don’t really have close friends, I’ve been estranged and was banished from my family for about a decade.

I grew up with an adoptive family who appeared to be loving, churchgoing, wealthy,and all-around perfection. In reality, as a little girl I always felt deeply sad, I was kept isolated and not allowed to have any friends. I just knew something wasnt right, but never knowing why or what was wrong with me. My mother was undiagnosed but severely mentally ill, religiously obsessed, profoundly narcissistic, viciously abusive in ways that nobody would’ve ever believed.

I started cutting myself before I was ten, I didn’t know where the urge came from but I somehow instinctually knew it brought relief. I started taking my mother’s pills around that time as well, again with instinct telling me it’d make me feel better.

I’m not particularly emotional, anymore… Over the years, all the anger and hurt and pain I carried gradually turned into a kind of unfeeling numbness, but still with a deep down suffering that’s always there.

I live an unconventional life. I am self employed in the adult entertainment industry. It pays the bills.

Im not planning on this kind of work forever, though, I’m also studying towards a degree in medicine.

For now, I’m really good at what I do, and at pretending I love it, even though I absolutely despise most of my clients and having to be around them. I’m good at smiling and giggling with my client- while in my mind, I’m repeatedly bashing his skull in. I’m good at acting like I’m in passionate ecstasy, while I imagine putting a gun in my mouth and making a really big mess.

I have attempted suicide only twice, neither time being successful (obviously) and ending up with substantial internal damage and longterm inpatient hospitalization.

I don’t know if I’m actually crazy, or just exhausted.

Been going on this way for so long I just don’t know anymore.

But I do know, and have accepted, that I’ll eventually kill myself.

One day I won’t be afraid anymore.

It’s only really a question of when I finally really have nothing left in me.