Okay. I’ve never done this before. I’m not open about these sorts of things, mainly because the people that are meant to love me and support me are the ones that are causing me the most distress. Only two people in my life have actually loved me – one changed to hating me when I let them crack away at the surface, and the other doesn’t know half of what the first did. I know that I am unloved, and no matter what I always will be. It’s just who I was born as.
There’s a friend I’ve been talking to about some of this because I trust him and he’d been helping people with similar problems for years. He’s attempted suicide so many times before, hospitalising himself, and only recently forced his girlfriend to rid him of the rope. So he knows what he’s talking about. But I still feel as though I’m just pathetic. He knew me when I was happy all those years ago and suddenly I’m telling him I’m depressed?
Okay, I’ll quickly state the reasons why I’m posting this: I’m depressed and have been for several months now. Bright colours distress me and everything just seems much duller in colour than it used to be, and it’s summer (though maybe it’s just Britain). It pains me to crack a smile because I’m not used to it. When I’m relatively happy for a while it doesn’t last for long and I feel horrid after, like I’m lying to myself, and I can’t be happy because I’m distracting myself from the incessant issues of life. I used to self-harm on my hip and I thought I was better now, but just a few nights ago I was harshly verbally attacked and without thinking I ended up with almost 20 cuts at my elbow. I know I’m in too deep, even to the point where I don’t feel like recovering. (Ever read the “Uglies” series? It’s basically where people are ugly until 16, when they have surgery to make them “Pretties”, but some uglies run away because they know that becoming pretty means distracting yourself, being brainwashed into happiness and parties, and they’d rather stay aware and ugly that pretty and happy.)
Also, I now know how mentally messed up I am, too. I suffer (severely) from OCD, anxiety attacks, perverted thoughts (as in illegal fetishes) and social anxiety. And, worst of all, I’ve been having suicidal thoughts for about three months, and I’m worried; I’ve searched for pills in my house, to no avail, and every day I wonder how much better death would be. And I’ve been having anxiety attacks for years but no one’s ever taken proper notice) about oblivion, death, and that eternal black nothingness. And suddenly I’m almost begging for that nothingness to come and save me. I don’t want to give up that willingness anytime soon, if that makes any sense.
Would it be bad if I said that I didn’t want anyone to ever find out about my death – as in, my family won’t take it seriously. They’ll think it’s a cry for attention. And I wouldn’t want my friends to cry and mourn and say “I wish I’d known, I could have helped!” especially not the guy who’s dealt with such people too many times, he doesn’t need to feel guilty when a close friend dies.
I just needed to vent. I’ve never said any of this out loud, no one knows this far into my head, and this is just the obvious parts.