Despite already having a post typed out for today, I’ve decided to change it and write this instead. Because I just realised several minutes ago just how little my mum cares.
I’ve been an emotional mess all day for no apparent reason, so I refused to step foot outside my room until 3 in the afternoon. Before that, no one bothered to come into my room to check on me. But we’re ignoring all that as I’m fast forwarding to not too long ago.
Recently, there has been a girl coming in my room at night. Her name is Bree, and she’s around my age. Every night (as well as the voices and demons) she has been here. She kind of like Jeremy, but not as friendly. She’s more horrible. I’m going off my whole point here, oops.
Tonight she told me to cut myself, but I kept refusing as I have done the last 2 or 3 nights. Long story short – she screamed for 2 hours before I gave in. So I had an arm covered in blood to the point where skin wasn’t visible (I’m talking in past tense when I’m still bleeding, oh well). I’d finished cutting when my stepdad came upstairs, so I had to cover my light and stay still. Then my mum came out her room and I had to stay still even longer.
Eventually, they both left and went to bed and I uncovered my light. As I was about to clean myself up, one of my dogs pushed my door open. Followed quickly by my mum. By now my light was directly on my arm, making this mess of a limb entirely visible to her.
And my mum just stands there, glancing between my face and my arm, before shutting the door and going to bed.
I don’t care about the fact that she didn’t become sympathetic and ask why I did it (like usual). No. I’m upset about how she didn’t care enough to see if I’m okay. I’m pissed off that she didn’t bother to do anything. She just left and is sound asleep now. I knew she didn’t care about me, but she could at least not be so upfront about it.
Now that I think about it, I think the main reason I haven’t bothered to clean up my arm is because I’m probably going to do it again. And maybe I’ll just let myself bleed out a bit more. Just so I get weaker. And then I can just take that shitload of pills I’ve been stashing and building up for months, just to see what happens this time. I’m in one of those moods where I’m feeling self destructive , yet everything is hilarious. Funny self destruction.