I don’t feel right.

I don’t feel “right”, and I haven’t felt “right” in a very long time.
I feel an uncomfortable emptiness, and as if life is continuing on in an unpleasant repetition, and I’m growing tired of it.

I am sixteen years old, and I have obtained my GED. I am going to begin college early next year, and I feel like I’m not ready, at least, with tolerating my anxiety. I have terrible anxiety, and I have panic attacks if I’m within a supermarket or similar public setting for too long. I’ve been in the college before, being I had to apply for it, and I began sweating and tearing up in the office, because there were people walking around outside, looking at me as they passed by. The office is enclosed in glass, which is of course easy to see through, so I could spot each person as they glanced over to me. It was overwhelming, and, once I had completed the application, I went outside to sit on the curb and wait on my ride. I was conflicted on whether to let the tears flow or not, because people would look at me even longer if I did, but if I didn’t they would just look at me anyway. How in the hell would I be able to compose myself walking around campus, let alone in a classroom?

Instances like this happen every time I go to a public place. I’m scared to leave the house because I don’t want these attacks to hit me again, but I don’t want to keep cooped up in my room, either.

My counselor cares more about my smoking habit than she does this, and it irks me. I don’t like going to people with my problems, but I felt as if she was “made for that”, so I tried venting to her. When I mentioned I was a heavy smoker, she’s been stuck on that since. I don’t want to go to anyone else. People tell me the same things that I don’t want to hear, but I don’t even know what I want to hear.

Since I don’t leave the house much, I don’t have any friends I can confide to. Only acquaintances over the Internet, and still, I don’t want to burden them with my problems, and I don’t want to seem melodramatic. I’ve said a few things to one of them, and they didn’t know what to do- they felt really overwhelmed and didn’t know how to help me, so I told them to forget what I had said, and we went back to conversing as usual.

I don’t like talking to my parents, and I don’t have any other family I can speak to because my father’s side of the family are all deceased, and my mom’s side despises us. I don’t want to talk to my counselor or friends. The only older sibling I have abused and molested me when I was a toddler. I feel as if I have no one to speak to. I feel like everyone’s going to give the same answer, which everyone has either done thus far, or disregard my talk because I’m a teenager. I suppose because I’m younger, my talk of problems are taken as immature rambling? I don’t know.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m on a multitude of medications, my self-esteem is at an all-time low, I have no friends, my anxiety and PTSD are constantly bothering me, and it’s just the same routine everyday. Sleep, overeat, speak to acquaintances. Sleep, overeat, speak to acquaintances. How much I eat is dependent on my emotion, and, over the past few months, I’ve been overeating until I feel sick and my stomach hurts. It’s difficult to control, and as of now I weigh nearly 280lbs.

I have several methods that I can take to end my life. Razors are in plain site in the restroom, sleeping medication is underneath my father’s side table, the bottle of Lithium is on the bookcase in the living room, my neighbour has a handgun that I have easy access to, and so on.

My mood right now is steadied between empty and distressed. I feel uncomfortable. I’ve been taking my medication, and I made sure that I took it tonight. I don’t know what to do, but I feel as if I’m going to end up doing something bad if this mood progresses. I have acted on my suicidal thoughts and heavily negative moods before. I have overdosed nearly thirteen times, and I have sliced my flesh open on my thighs and wrists to where I had to receive some sort of glue to help the wounds heal. I don’t want to continue doing the same thing and failing. I want to be sure I take the right dosage to end it if I do. I don’t want to wake up in the hospital to my mother and father angry and distraught. Yes, I know, suicide is selfish, being you’re leaving those who care about you pained and grieving, but death occurs every day. People can grieve, then return to their normal lives. They can think about it now and again, yes, but it isn’t going to be constantly there. The mourning will end within months or a few years.

I don’t know, I just don’t feel right. I’m debating on doing something now, as I type this. My friends are messaging me and I’m acting as if nothing is wrong. I don’t want them to feel guilty or anything in case I do something. My mother is going to wake up soon to dress my younger siblings for school, and there’s going to be screaming and arguing, like there always is. My siblings all have mental disorders, my sister holding the worse, which is autism. The screaming is routine. I really don’t like that routine.

Once my mother leaves, my father is going to rest like he usually does. From there I could grab the Lithium and take some before my mother returns, and each morning she usually gets back within forty-five minutes. I could take the sleeping medication, Clonidine, from my father’s side table and down some. I know he’s a heavy sleeper. Or I could close the restroom door and lock it, which is what I always do when I use the bathroom so it wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary, and break one of the shaving razors like I have before, and slice my arm.

I’ll see how things go this morning. I’m glad I found this site to vent. I feel as if I’ve lifted a weight from my head.

++ Reading over this, I apologize if I’ve said too much.