I don’t know what to call this

I don’t know how to start this really. I’m not sure if I’m even in the right place. I read some posts before making this one and well. It made me feel like my feelings were not really valid. I don’t know. I guess I just want to write down why I want to kill myself just for me and not really for anyone else, just to release it I guess. I don’t really trust the people I know irl, and I don’t trust my therapist either, I just tell them that I’m always tired and I can never concentrate on anything. Recently I’ve been opening up more, but it just makes everyone more confused about me. My parents tell me I contradict myself a lot. I don’t know if I do. They also tell me that they can’t trust me. I never liked my parents. I’m not sure why. They give me food, a place to live, and some attention and that seems to be enough for most people. I’m kind of losing track here, so I’ll restart over and over until I think it’s right. When I was a kid, everyone always gave me compliments. I didn’t really like playing with other children. There was one teacher that I had in kindergarten or whatever you would call it. Preschool, maybe? It wasn’t anything like school though. Well, we didn’t have any responsibilities really but we did some activities like drawing and playing and singing and dancing and napping. Sometimes we went outside for expeditions too. Anyway, my favorite teacher there apparently never existed. It was just someone I made up according to everyone I talked about it. Which is weird, because I would just be in that teacher… or I guess I shouldn’t call her a teacher because she didn’t teach anything. Person of authority I guess. Anyway, I would be in her lap for hours and just hug her and that was my favorite part of the whole day. That was the only time I ever felt safe, I think. I’ve never felt safe at home. I used to feel safe with my parents, but after I turned about seven or eight years old, they started treating me differently, so I never felt safe around them because of that. I’ve never felt safe when I’m alone either. I’m not sure if I did feel safe with my parents before I was seven or eight either, I just felt like they could protect me from any danger. And well. I had a lot of nightmares and delusions, I guess, when I was little. I hit my head really hard when I was four years old and it started bleeding, so my balance has been pretty terrible for my whole life. I fell from a bed that was 2 meters high up I think, it was a bunk bed, I was jumping between the bed and the closet and then eventually I fell and I bounced between the closet and the bed five times, hitting the same spot at the back of my head every time. I think I still have a scar there, but it’s not visible because I have so much hair. Whenever I was sleeping in bed, I always turned my lights off. But I was really scared. I was frightened actually. Because I could hear sounds coming from outside my window, and I always assumed that it was from a woman trying to trick me into following her into the forest. There was a forest right next to my house. I thought that that woman was the witch that controlled the wild boars. I saw her in my room sometimes, in front of the window. It was very scary. My mother told me that her grandmother died when I was about a year old, she died from cancer. I used to think that she was haunting our house. When I got scared of the woman outside my window trying to lure me out, I walked out into the hallway. My house was really long, so there was a 20-ish meter hallway which connected the kitchen, living room, and the room that you enter the house from, two bedrooms, one office, a bathroom, and the washing room, which connects to my parent’s and my younger brother’s bedroom, and another bathroom, and another exit. At the end of the hallway, there was a bureau. That bureau was white. At night, it looked blurry, and it shined, so naturally I thought it was the ghost of my great grandmother haunting our house, so going to the bathroom and running to my parent’s bedroom for safety was like going through a nightmare. Everytime I exited the bathroom I was scared that someone was going to hurt me the moment I got out. Not because it was something that could happen, but because I had a very wild imagination and I thought that literally everything was out to hurt me, as my mother had told me that every stranger I see is dangerous, and that boars are very dangerous creatures, and I am attracted to women, so something that is attractive AND dangerous is to be avoided at all costs, right? Well, that’s basically what I’m still to this day hardwired to believe. It doesn’t make sense but all those nights where I was scared that my life was in danger just because of the dark, I got more and more scared, but I learned how to face those fears too. I’m no longer that scared of going to the bathroom at night… just a little bit. Or a lot. It depends honestly. I’m losing track of where I was going. Oh yeah, well basically this all led to me being really, without any reason at all, suspicious, wary, afraid of, and aggressive, towards people I don’t know. I guess you could say I’m paranoid and antisocial? Or something like that. I haven’t been like that my whole life though. Writing this is really difficult, it makes my head hurt. Anyway. I developed a really good sense of humor to protect myself from other people. If they are busy laughing, they won’t care much about me, I think. So well, I use that humor to draw people in and then I continuously draw them in and push them away as different parts of my mind conflict on how I should treat people. It’s extremely frustrating for me, and I have lost a lot of good friends because of this. Well, they only liked me because they thought that I was funny and intelligent. I guess I should talk about my intelligence now too. I’ve always been the smartest person I know I think. I’ve never met anyone that’s smarter than me I think. When I was about six or so years old, I started going to school, and quickly, math became my favorite subject. When I was six years old, I used to go to a website to practice math, and eventually I reached algebra, which I didn’t understand, and then I thought that I didn’t need to study any more math for the rest of my life. Then I got interested in languages. I learned english extremely fast. I think it took me about 2 years to become fluent in english. When I was nine years old, I was better than my english teacher, who had lived in England for several years, at english. I was also excelling at all other subjects in school, except for arts. I’ve never been good at drawing. I probably never will be unless I practice consistently for a very long time, and considering my current mental state, that’s very unlikely. I’ve also always been very physically attractive and athletic without putting much effort into it. All of it just came naturally for me. Everyone always complimented me about how intelligent, how knowledgeable, how smart, how funny, how cute, how handsome, how sexy I was. Basically, because of the way I was, the people around me worshipped me. So I developed some narcissistic traits. I think it’s pretty clear to see how narcissism combined with not trusting anyone, and always pushing people away can lead to some very bad situations. And it did. But it took a very long time. I actually knew that I was a narcissist and I simply did not care. That carelessness eventually carried over to everything else and developed into apathy. And apathy led to my physical health and grades dropping. Which led to my popularity decreasing. Which led to my mental health decreasing even further. Eventually, I got to the point where I am now. Honestly, I don’t think it’s going to get better any time soon. But well, rather than “going through a rough time”, it’s more like I’ve simply been completely destroyed in every possible way. The worst part is, I don’t care enough to solve it, so it’s just going to keep getting worse, but I don’t care. It’s really frustrating actually. But actually it’s not frustrating, because I really do not care at all. The only part of me that’s really frustrated is well, the most primal part, because it has gotten to the point where my life is in danger because I don’t eat or sleep enough, and I think about self harm and killing myself every single day. It’s weird how I fell from being probably the most perfect gifted child ever to this weird creature that I have devolved to. Really, when I look myself in the mirror I can’t help but feel disgusted. I usually stare myself in the eyes for quite some time in the mirror. The only reason I do it is because I want to know how I feel. People say your eyes are a mirror of your soul, or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, and I don’t really want anything because I honestly couldn’t care less about myself or anyone else for that matter. Man, I’m such a horrible person. That doesn’t bother me at all because I don’t care. Sometimes I feel sorry for my parents because they are really trying to make me feel better. But really. Why should I care about anything? It’s not like I have a reason to. Nothing is fun or exciting. It’s only fun when I convince myself that it is. I have to tell myself that something is fun to think that it’s fun. Otherwise it’s not fun for me. It’s such a pain in the ass. I don’t even know why I bother living. Really, the only reason I want to kill myself is because I’m extremely lazy. Isn’t that horrible? It should be. But for some reason, I don’t feel that way. The way I feel and act is completely different from everything I’ve been taught to believe. It really, really makes no sense at all. That’s about the only thing that bothers me. I feel like a broken machine. Like I’ve somehow been reprogrammed to only indulge in self destructive behaviors. I guess one thing I should say too, is I’ve been addicted to porn since I was about nine years old, so that’s about eight years now. I’ve tried quitting it quite a few times. I think the longest I’ve gone without watching porn for the past eight years is about 3 months. That’s fucking sad honestly. Yeah, I’m really a pathetic excuse for a human being, I shouldn’t even be allowed to use the term. Oh, apparently I only care when it’s something negative related to myself. That’s good to know, but not useful in any way at all. Anyway, back to the original point. I had a girlfriend that I got like a month ago after I pretty much quit everything else in life for not caring about them, and I really thought she was the most important person in my life for a while, and she was also mentally ill, she had like PTSD, Schizophrenia, Depression, Social Anxiety, Anxiety, lots of fun stuff. We both pretty much just vented to each other about our problems and sometimes talked about sex or how much we loved each other. Pretty normal relationship stuff I think. Well, because I’m a fucking idiot, I managed to push her away from me too, and she was the only reason I didn’t kill myself on the day I planned to (March 25), and now she hasn’t even tried to contact me for about five days and I feel really lonely, and really dissatisfied, disappointed, ashamed, and frustrated with myself because I accused her of not caring about me at all, I told her I didn’t trust her enough to believe that she loved me, she told me fine. She hasn’t spoken to me since. It’s really making me regret it. I already hated myself before I told her that. I mainly told her that because I wanted her to hate me as much as I hate myself. I’m such an idiot. I told her that I mess everything up, and that I can never make anything work out so I wasn’t sure how long our relationship would last and she told me everything was going to be fine. She was wrong. I was right. It’s such a shame too. I really loved her. Or maybe I just wanted any attractive woman that would give me sex and attention. I think it might have been that really, because I don’t actually miss her I just miss the way she made me feel. I haven’t slept for 3 days. I have barely eaten since I broke up with her. Maybe feeling this way is just some sort of coping mechanism? I don’t know honestly. Nothing really makes sense to me. I’ve been writing this shit for 2 hours now. I don’t even remember what it was about. I really miss my girlfriend. I love her more than anything. I can’t really function properly without her. I needed someone like her to function properly. I mean, the last five days without her have been pure psychological torture. I’ve been having hallucinations for the past 4 months too. Mostly just noises. A um. Not a psycholog psychiatrist a psychiatrist told me that something about anxiety. Anxiety noises at night it’s normal. I’m not sure. Um. Hearing noises at night could be a symptom of anxiety. I guess I have anxiety? I mean, I hear people whistling, knocking on my walls, I heard a weird noise that sounded kind of like if you had played a sound of a pigeon singing in slow motion really loudly right next to me, but I guess it’s just anxiety so it’s nothing to worry about. I don’t know if I care. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I guess I’m ambivalent. I’m not neutral and I’m definitely not indifferent. I really want to be with my girlfriend. I miss my girlfriend. Shouldn’t I be sleeping right now? Maybe I should. I guess I’ll try to. There are no more words coming. Just noises and pain.

I don’t know what any of this means