God. I can’t believe I actually fooled myself into believing that I have friends again. I swore to myself that I’d never let myself fall into this pit of nightmares again, but I actually thought that I was cherished and valued by my friends. They only want me for my homework answers. I don’t blame them for using me; I undeniably deserve that much. I am just displeased/filled with an eternal rage for myself for actually thinking that it would be different this time. It’s not going to be different until I either fix myself or off myself. I can’t keep complaining like this.
No one wants to hear about my problems. No one cares. And rightfully so. Everyone is caught up in their own problems, why would anyone want to add mine to their to do list. There is no reason. Whenever I tell people my problems, I am using them as a therapist, and therapists are not friends. That’s so fucking shameful, but nobody beats me up or anything. I wish more than anything that someone would just knock the living shit out of me. If someone would just torture me until I died, that would be great. I’m awful.
I’m constantly suspended between not deserving of life and not deserving of death. I am so fucking terrible and evil and disgusting that I deserve to be tortured for all of eternity.
I wonder why my family fucking hates me, but refuse to look at the facts. Maybe if I did something to make them proud of me (like, I don’t know, trying not to be worthless for a day) they would hold me in higher regard. But, I think it’s been made quite obvious that I’m much too worthless to do that.
And for all of this stuff I’m given, I’m still complaining. I realize that I’m a bag of fucking dog shit, but I don’t ever do anything to fix it. People congratulate me on finding my problems, telling me that I can fix myself, but my problem is that my problems are so deeply ingrained into my nature that I can’t.
It’s not like I’m going to live much longer anyway. I’d mention my method of suicide, but people would probably critique that, too. I would deserve it. Good job, me. Can’t even fucking off myself correctly. God, I’m shit.
1 comment
I was going to go through and respond to every paragraph separately, but I tried that and it failed me. Instead, I’m just going to reply how the fuck ever.
You aren’t complaining. At least, I don’t view it as so. You’re so worried about complaining, but really all you’re doing is typing out your thoughts and reflecting. That is not a bad thing. Actually, I think it is a very good thing. It always makes me feel better afterwards, and you’ve told me yourself talking about it makes you feel better as well.
You aren’t broken. Obviously, you can not fix yourself. I’m sorry if I’ve used the word “fix” with you before because now that I think about it that was a shitty thing to do. I didn’t mean it in a “you’re broken” way, but still. Rather, try to improve yourself. Don’t tell me you can’t because I know you can. You’re smart and efficient; you can do this.
You say that people congratulate you on knowing your problems because then you can “fix” yourself (I’ve done this- fuck me hard), but quite honestly, I still think it’s a good thing to know them. You said you’r problems are ingrained in you. Since you know that that means you can eliminate ways of trying to improve because you know they won’t work. This means that you’re going to have to try harder to find ways to improve. Like I said, you can do this. I know you can.
I consider you a friend. I hope you consider me one as well. Those people who only use your for your answers are idiots for not wanting to know you because you’re a rad as fuck person. Tell them to fuck off. Friends are there for each other through thick and thin. Telling people your problems does not mean that you are using that other person as a therapist. It means you have somebody you can talk to. I care about you. A lot, actually, and I enjoy talking to you every single day. Us talking and sharing our problems is a mutual thing. I did not go into this thinking you weren’t ever going to tell me about how you feel. I know when we text it’s not all serious stuff, but that’s great because it just makes us better friends, right? I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything and I won’t run away from you; I promise. -__^
I don’t think you need anybody to beat you up, honestly. You do it enough on your own. Also, there is not right way to off yourself.
This is a few days late, and I hope this wasn’t too obnoxious. I think I covered everything I wanted to in this. I might not have made sense in some areas. I was hyped up on feelings when I began this.