i think i dont know anymore

The last time things were like this, it was four years ago. I had failed, and when the sun had finally risen, I found hope again. I started new when I entered another school district, and I left those people behind. But they haunt me, and they’re still tormenting me as the ghosts in my head. I began to realize, just as slowly as I had fallen, that it didn’t matter what I did, or who I was with, or my situation. I would always feel this way, I can never change that. I tried to fight it, and I believed that I was okay, even when every year I slipped up and bled myself again. In summers it would change to digging my nails deep into my palms to draw blood, or punching my legs, or hitting myself. Anything to stay grounded, anything to feel the pain. Even without the feeling of numbness, of emptiness, of worthlessness. I always thought that at least somewhere I mattered.

It doesn’t matter who cares for you, does it? Before I thought no one cared, and that was why I was like this. But now I know they care, and I still want to die, I want to hurt myself. This year, I began to realize things so slowly, so painfully, that when it all clicked, I crashed so hard I felt like I was dead.

We do not matter. We are as worthless as a blade of grass, as a speck of dirt. Something seen, and something forgotten. Billions before us, lived and died, we do not know their names, we do not even spare a thought for them. Because we all die, and that’s what matters here. Life it temporary, death is something all of us will go through. Everyone acts like you shouldn’t die, but you have to die. They want you to hold off for a few more years, even thought we all die, they act like you will not. Life is a gift, bu not every gift is good.

So I began to have panic attacks, and then I dreamed and had panic attacks in my dreams. Then it was the dreams of cutting my wrists and bleeding out, and I marveled how it ran down my arms. I wanted that to be me.  I wanted the pain, I wanted to open myself and let this bad feeling out. Did you know, that before you were born, millions of years passed, people lived and died their whole existence, without you knowing, and that is what death will be like. Except you won’t know. Just like you didn’t know about those years before you. So you won’t know what happens after, and eventually it will happen to you anyway, so its ok.

I used to have this friend, and at first she threw me away, and I was nothing to her. After so long, we became friends. So it took me awhile, but I told her everything. And she told me everything, and she never cared for me again. She asked if I was ok, and never pried when I lied to her. Even when I told her everything, she never realized when I broke. I was too prideful to ask for help, I hate being weak and that includes admitting things like this. So I need people to know when I’m broken, so they can tell me when they know I’m lying. She was that person, and I knew when she was broken. I carried her burdens, I was her shoulder to cry on, and still she did nothing for me. And now she has someone new to cry on, someone new to talk to, and I am nothing again. She threw me away, again.

I hate myself for opening up.

I must be saying too much, and no one will read this. There’s so much more, my parents finding out I like girls and trying to cure me, and they will never love me truly, will they? My friend, abusing my trust again and taking things from me, messing with me emotions and breaking me. They don’t know. But what if they knew? What if they knew everything they did to me?

I’m so sorry, sorry for hurting myself again, sorry for wanting to die, sorry for not begin the child my parents wanted, sorry for failing. I need someone, please. I need someone, I want someone to squeeze me until I can’t breathe, hug me so tight that I can’t possibly fall apart, and I want to cry and tell them everything.

But you see, I’m alone.

There’s no one here.