Everything is messy. It’s the messed up kind of messy, the disorganized messy, and the kind to be looked down upon.
I’ve come to realize a couple things. The things I think are not truly what I feel or what I believe in or how I am. I thought that the reason I cut myself was for the rush, but all my reasons for cutting feel like excuses and they often contradict each other. Willpower- I thought it had something to do with willpower. I thought it made me feel stronger if I could withstand greater pain (I’m fully aware that that is idiotic looking at it now), but I also thought I cut because if I lowered my standard level of happiness I would feel happier whenever I reached neutral. It was a way of appreciating what I had. They aren’t on my arms they’re on my hip/ass which is a little embarrassing but this way I don’t have to care that scars are forever I don’t leave that skin uncovered. They’re all excuses and I still don’t truly understand why I continue. I don’t have people looking at them or knowing when I cut so there aren’t people worrying about me or that I’m letting down. Malliks doesn’t like blood. The mess she doesn’t see can’t hurt her.
Malliks- my best friend – she is my obsession my pride and happiness my everything in general. I love her more than anything, she claims the same but she doesn’t truly understand the extent to which I cherish her. Admittedly it’s borderline unhealthy. She loves me because of how much I love her. She loves me because I support her with all that I can. Because she deserves it. She is a joy god who’s had suicidal thoughts of her own. If I follow through my greatest regret is putting her in pain. In a late night burst of texts she told me that she would give up anything for me and that she loved more more than anything, and to never leave her because if I died her smiles would be forever hallow. I’ve never told her of the suicidal plans or fantasies because I don’t want her to feel responsible and I don’t want her to worry. I’ve told her that I cut but I think I convinced her that I was in control of the situation and that she shouldn’t worry. I truly truly hold her more dear than anything and while attention from the one I admire most would be nice I suppose, it’s still her being in pain for me, it would be manipulation and that would be disgusting on my part. However, her reason for loving me has nothing to do with who I am, although as an obsessive fangirl (anime, videogames, tv shows and so much more oh god there’s so much) I may be capable of more intense love than average, but really I should be replaceable.
We’re both girls. I love her in the friend way but I also have confusing other feelings. We talked about them once. Her feelings are also confused. She said she wants to hold my hand and hug and play with my hair sometimes – innocent things – but she doesn’t want to love me in a different way than she used to, and that when we get too close she feels guilty and scared. Despite that, she said she felt she could fall in love with me if she allowed herself. This was in a blog I wasn’t supposed to find haha. We never quite confessed to each other, the conversation was actually really fucking cute. We both had something to say to each other but we were worried that they wouldn’t be same and it’d be awful, she told me just say it dammit and that she was 90% sure they were the same but I wanted to wait and be confused a while. After a series of cuddly too touchy events over the course of a weekend she said she wanted to pretend nothing happened because it all made her feel guilty. I texted her that what made her happy made me happy or something along those lines that was less cliche and then proceeded to cry and beat myself with the maybe 10 pound camping flashlight that stays in my bedroom for a couple hours. People sometimes notice bruises but I draw over my arms anyways. I let myself bruise my forearms and such because bruises go away unlike scars. My feelings were there for her before hers were for me. I used to punish myself for thinking that maybe she loved me back the way I loved her because I thought it was so outlandish despite how badly I wanted it; I was admiring something out of reach. So to hear that my feelings were reciprocated- I felt like I could never be sad again. But within days it’s something we’re not supposed to talk about. Malliks- I love you more than anything you’re not at fault- I shouldn’t get my hopes up. I’m replaceable. That’s ok. I just enjoy her presence. If I told her that I thought I was replaceable she would tell me I’m not and give me all these reasons but they’re excuses even if she doesn’t know it. There’s a boy. Caboose let’s say. She told me of how she enjoyed him before she told me about me. I was so happy for her honestly, though it’s become considerably harder to be happy for her afterwards. He makes her smile the daydreaming about your crush smile- I can’t. I’m replaceable. Replace me. When I go I want her not to feel hallow and she doesn’t seem to be in danger of having suicidal thoughts again due to a change in personality that happened a summer or two ago. She’s optimistic and doesn’t like to let others down. She’s a joy goddess and I’m so lucky to be a part of her life. She’s strong but I want Caboose to comfort her anyways.
I love her so much and if she died maybe even if she left I would commit suicide with little hesitation. Because I’m weak and dependent. I’m someone to be weeded out by natural selection. I don’t have much motivation to live though I’m also not particularly motivated to kill myself, mostly I fantasize about it. It’s not that I live a rough life- I’m blessed really. I’m just weaker than average. I also struggle with such little things I really shouldn’t care about. For example, food makes me uncomfortable. I’m not anorexic, according to my BMI I’m underweight and I still think I could lose some but I don’t take any action to it. I just often would rather not eat in front of or with people and some things like buttering or putting cream cheese/jam or anything I would especially rather avoid. I’m scared of visiting others houses in general but more so having people over. Particularly feeding them. I can’t really explain it I just don’t want to be in that situation and when I have to do things that I don’t want to like this (there are many more) I get this feeling that feels like butterflies but more violent, hot, and a little higher up. I think I’ll call it dread. This means there’s a lot of things I don’t want to do. People at counters terrify me. I don’t have a future and I jump to fantasizing about suicide much too quickly, and if I manage to make it out of school, I’d rather die at my own hands then die of old age because my body broke down and ceased to function. I haven’t been thinking straight for months. The one thing that broke my dreamlike distorted fantasies of suicide for a second was this scene I found of a girl who’d slit her wrists and died in a pool of her own blood and it looked like a murder scene. For a second I go, “I’m scared, I don’t want to be that girl and I’m scared that I considered it,” but then flip switches and I’m back. What if those are the thoughts I have in the couple minutes I have before I bleed to death. What if I spend the last moments thinking well shit I’ve done goofed. I should take everything more seriously but cutting too doesn’t rouse me from my dreamworld. I don’t know how to wake up as pinching doesn’t work. How do I clean up? What do I do about Malliks? Nothing for now I guess. I’m sorry this was so horribly long. I’m sure a lot of it was inaccurate and cringe-worthy but for now I need to distract myself. This was a vent I should feel bad for venting and I will post something less selfish next time. I’m not committing suicide until at least the summer, stay a while with me maybe the clouds will part and the mess will clear. Only time will tell.