Sounded better in my head the first time but I’m going to vent it here anyways.

I shouldn’t have said anything to anyone that I actually know about my feelings. I know it’s supposed to help, it hasn’t.

I feel like now that they know what I felt I have to be better now so they can now stop worrying. I’m walking on eggshells every time I open my mouth for fear that what I’ll say may seem suicidal/depressed/distraught and give them a hint that I’m still not okay.

I have and do feel better, better in a way; I’m better in that I can hear the world around me over the voices of my mind, I can actually comprehend what is going on at work, I can remember the drive I just finished. When these people that are close ask how I am, I give the truncated answer, “I’m fine”, when they ask how “that’s” going, it’s answered with, “I’m doing better.”

I’m not fine though. I still want to die. Maybe I’m not planning it as seriously as I did a month ago but that’s doesn’t make me fine. I have to fight the urge to step off my walking path in front of the oncoming semi. I have to tell myself that running off the road in my car with my seatbelt off is not a real plan and is not guaranteed to work. Every time that I stop to think I find myself considering whether I should go through with my original plan. THIS IS NOT FINE!

I can’t be fine and I hate anyone around me knowing I’m not fine. I find these conundrums; if I don’t kill myself it looks like I was just being dramatic or attention seeking and adds to the stigma that plagues this disease, now if I do kill myself there is a good chance that they will blame themselves for not doing more or whatever even though I told them my depression is not related to them. I feel like I backed myself into another corner. I’m running out of escape routes.

Also, I wish they would stop asking me to stop cutting, seriously annoying and only makes me cut more or deeper when I do because I want to please them and so I want the one episode of cutting to last longer but it doesn’t and it adds to the shame when I do cut which makes me cut more.

I’m not fine, but as long as I’m still breathing they get what they want and I just continue wishing I could stop. Dragged along in the tide of life.

Thank you for attending my TED Talk. Haha.

Also, I’m too old for this shit. Cutting wasn’t so bizarre for a teen as I was, I’m a fucking adult now and turning 30 today. Happy birthday to me, perhaps I’ll die. Speaking of which, next date is the 16th or April, that will be the 14 yr anniversary of my first attempt.

Now I’m done.