My parents are punishing me again. They tell me I need to be more responsible. Took my computer away from me. I honestly don’t care that much about my computer. It’s just that the demands they set for me are ridiculous. They want me to get out of bed before nine every morning, eat breakfast, and exercise at least one time every day. It’s such a pain in the ass. My parents literally can’t stand me and it shows. So what if I’m lazy and I don’t have any ambitions and I don’t care about anything. It’s not like that’s a problem. Why would I want to accomplish anything? I see a lot of people living most of their life chasing a dream they will never achieve, then dying miserable. My mother tells me I’m going to die young if I keep living the way I’m living right now. Like that’s a bad thing. Meh. I really don’t care that much. It’s just annoying. Why do I have to take care of myself? I just want to be put in psych ward. I should probably tell them that. I’m planning on telling my therapist the 15th day of this month. My parents tell me I need to sleep more. My dad told me that I was wondering why I woke up at 5 today and didn’t get out of bed until after lunch. I told him I didn’t, that I didn’t care. He told me that because I don’t care about anything, I should just do whatever he tells me to do. Why should I be obedient to my parents? What’s the point? If I don’t care about my basic needs then why would I care about what my parents think? Honestly, I hate living with my family. I feel like a stranger in my own home. I don’t know any of my family members and they don’t know me. I don’t understand why they care about me. I don’t care about them. I’m not interested in knowing either. I have no curiosity on any subjects really. I like “wasting time” though. I don’t enjoy doing it, but it’s better than staring at the ceiling for 20 hours a day. The only thing I really enjoy is masturbating. But eh, that gets boring too. It’s only fun if you do it like once every two weeks. More than fhat doesn’t feel good and if you do it less then I guess it’s fine. My girlfriend, or ex girlfriend I guess, told me that masturbating is completely normal and very common in people between the ages of 15 and 20, because of hormones. I could go to her about my insecurities and she would never judge me. My parents always judge me though. They judge everyone, and they don’t even realize it. I hope I don’t judge anyone. I don’t like when other people judge me, so I never assume anything about anyone during social interactions. Not that I have many of those. It’s not like I want to either. Sure, talking to someone is fine, but my social anxiety is terrible and I don’t know how to start a conversation, I only know how to keep one going once it starts. I think I’m a really boring person. I think the reason I don’t care about my needs is probably because I was neglected as a child. Or something like that. If I was neglected as a child, that would make a lot of sense. I mean, I was bullied. I was bullied by my older brother, his friends, and other people that decided to join them. Then, when they left my preschool, I felt lonely for some reason. I didn’t like getting bullied, but it was better than only having two friends that I personally thought were the most boring people on the planet. They were so judgemental. When they got older, they were very holier-than-thou ish. I’m glad I didn’t stay with them. I hated them. So much, that I completely forgot about them, until I met them and I had 0 recollection of them, but they remembered me for some reason. Why do people that I forget completely remember me so well? I don’t get it. Why are the people that I care about the least the ones that care about me the most? It doesn’t make sense. When I was. Well. When I entered school, I was really shy. I’ve always been shy. I guess it’s because I got bullied from pretty much the moment I was born until I started doing the bullying myself. I was completely isolated from everyone when I was six years old. I had one friend, but I guess he thought I was annoying or something, because he beat my ass and never talked to me again. I got some friends when I was seven though, because a teacher saw me walking around all alone and crying so she introduced me to some people. This is so painful for me to share. Well. I became friends with those people. I guess. I’ve never felt close to anyone. The first person that I ever felt close to was my now ex girlfriend. She was such a beautiful person. And I’m not just talking about her appearance. She had gone through so much shit. And she still managed to cheer me up most days. I don’t know how hard that was for her. But I know that she really pushed herself and tried her hardest to be there for me. And I messed everything up. Every single thing I think about ends up with me thinking about my girlfriend. I cry every day thinking about her. If I wasn’t so selfish and stupid. I mean. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel right now. My head feels like it’s tearing itself apart looking for anything that makes sense. But nothing does. Not to me anyway. It all stopped making sense when. I don’t remember when. I don’t think I’ve always been this way. It feels like I’ve always been this way. To explain. I’ve always had to teach myself everything because I’ve never understood when someone else explains something to me. No matter how clear the explanation is, or how many times I hear it. To me, it doesn’t make sense. Nothing ever makes sense to me if I don’t learn the concept myself and then learn the words to describe the concept to other people. I can’t learn a concept by hearing someone else explain it. I wanted to be mentally ill. I never understood mental illness, so I wanted to experience it for myself. That’s why I feel the way I feel right now. Because I wanted to feel like this. Everything is my own fault. I have to do everything by myself. Whenever someone tries to help me, the help is almost never useful to me. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just. Know how something feels without experiencing it on my own. Why do I have to make myself do all these things. I have scars all over my body. I mean, my dream when I was a kid was to have a girlfriend and scars all over my body by the time I turned 17. And I did have a girlfriend. And I do have scars all over my body. So I’ve accomplished the only dream I ever had. I have nothing left to do. I feel like I don’t belong in this world anymore. I feel like most of me already left. I only have one more step to make. Will I do it? I don’t know. I’m a little bit scared honestly. It’s a bit tiring. It feels like from the moment I turned seven years old, or maybe even before that, everything that has happened in my life has been for one reason only. To make me hate myself. To make me feel, from the deepest part of my heart, that there will never be any point to living. That I’m just a useless piece of flesh, brought into this world simply to be tortured for the entertainment of someone. I mean. I can see them laughing at me when I try to sleep. When I think about my girlfriend. When I want to kill myself. They laugh. They encourage me. They tell me everything will get better. They tell me they can’t kill me, no matter how many times I tell them to. They tell me I have to do it on my own. I have to kill myself. There is no other way out, unless I want my whole life to just be a neverending nightmare. I had a dream last night. I still remember it clearly. I was living in a psych ward, but let out sometimes. My girlfriend was taking care of my dog while I stayed at the psych ward. She had overcome a lot of her mental issues and was able to take care of herself. She was really happy. I was 28 years old I think. I was with her, in her house. We were happy together. And then, I woke up. I thought to myself, maybe this is just a dream, and the dream I had was my actual life. Then I started feeling the pain all over my body, reminding me that it’s real, and that I’m alive. I get a little bit tired. I don’t know why I shouldn’t kill myself. I guess the only reason I haven’t is that. I’m still clinging onto the hope that my girlfriend will give me a second chance. I should give up. There’s no way. After everything she did for me, despite how hard life is for her, and how little I did for her, despite how easy it is for me in comparison. I can’t imagine I’ll ever be happy again. It just doesn’t seem possible. Why should I be happy? I don’t deserve happiness. This pain. I did all of this to myself. I deserve this. This is all my fault. I deserve all of this. It’s all my fault. It doesn’t matter what anyone says. It’s all my fault. I did this to myself. I did this to myself. It’s my fault. I need to take the blame. I need to take all the blame. It’s my fault that I feel like this. No one else will change anything for me. I deserve this. I deserve worse. I deserve to die. Or worse. To be tormented every day until I slowly, slowly, die. With no one left that I love. I pushed all of them away, and I’m too much of a coward to be vulnerable and try to make new friends. I tried to. I tries, and it didn’t work. This is my fault. This is my fault. This is only my fault. This is all on me. This is my fault. I didn’t make one mistake. I didn’t make two mistakes. I didn’t make three mistakes. I didn’t make four mistakes. I didn’t make five mistakes. I didn’t make six mistakes. I didn’t make any mistakes. It was all intentional. I wanted this. I wamted this, so why? Why does it hurt so much? I wanted this. This is what I wanted. Isn’t this what I wanted? I always wanted this. Did I? Yes, I did. I always wanted to die a slow and painful death, completely alone, without anyone to help me. I always wanted this. I always hated myself. I’ve always been lonely. I’ve always been angry. I’ve never really felt happy. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Maybe it’s just the right thing to do. Maybe I just wasn’t meant to live. Do I even care if I live or die? I don’t. So why do I cling onto my life so hard. Why? What part of me still wants to live? How do I get rid of it? Why can’t I just die. I want to die. I don’t want to live. I don’t want any of this. There’s nothing left to me. I pushed everything away. All of it! All of it! Because of the way I am. So now. The only thing that I deserve is death.