It just makes me angry I guess. Them thinking that the moment they found out I was suicidal, that I suddenly got better in the blink of an eye, after a freaking year of thoughts about ways to die, and what dying would feel like.
I hate that they think I’m all better now. I hate them for thinking that they can fix me. I hate them for thinking I’m sick. I hate them for thinking that I know nothing about what’s going on around me. I DO! I know more than they do, I know exactly what I was doing, that’s why I did it.
The other day, I was sitting in car with my mum, and the conversation went something like this:
Mum: Cutting doesn’t make you look beautiful. It’s not pretty.
Mum: Just ask *Friends name* daughter. Their going to me there forever.
NO SHIT THEIR GOING TO BE THERE FOREVER! OF COURSE THEIR NOT PRETTY! THEY AREN’T SUPPOSE TO BE FUCKING PRETTY! THEY AREN’T SUPPOSE TO BE FUCKING SEEN! WHY THE FUCK WOULD I SHOW PEOPLE?
I know you think I’m doing this for attention, but I’m not, and you thinking that only makes me want to die more.