i wake up every day telling myself that today will be better than yesterday. that i will be happy. that i will get through the day without a mental break down. every day i fail at this. every day some stupid shit goes wrong and sends me spiralling downward. i truly hate myself with all my heart. its funny because im actually looking forward to the future. im looking forward to moving out of this shitty city away from the shitty people. but yet, i always find myself looking at the bottle of 50+ ativan ive been saving for that day where i kill myself. every day, i find myself going back to that place of darkness, where i wish i was dead. theres this quote that my therapist told me, and it was that everyone is capable of loving and being loved. but how can someone love someone as fucked up as me? every day i look towards the future to when i get to leave home for college and study engineering. but every day, i come back to the place of darkness where i know im incapable of being loved. where i know that im destined for horrible things no matter how bright my future is. its funny, because i feel like the brighter my future becomes, the more hope i lose. i feel this pressure to get better, and be better from everyone who surrounds me. but the thing is, im not better. and i dont know if someone as broken as me can get fixed. maybe things happen for a reason. maybe im so goddamn suicidal because the universe is trying to tell me people would be better without me.
im such a sad excuse of a human being. someway, somehow, i manage to fuck everything up. i really fucking hate myself, down to the core. my friends dont actually care, my classmates dont actually care, my boyfriend sure as hell doesnt.
in fact i bet my boyfriend is only dating me cause im easy. or if he broke up with me he doesnt want to live with the guilt of me killing myself. the one person i thought was different really isnt shit.
i thought my friends understood. but they dont. its still a constant state of “well youll get better” or “you can snap out of it” yeah right. why do i bother? i dont know.
the sad part is things are actually getting better for me, so why cant i just appreciate it and not fuck it all up
last night i went for a run at night. it was pretty foggy and cold but i decided to go for it anyway. i ran as fast as i could through the trees and down the sidewalk, hardly being able to see 10 feet in front of me. i ran until my legs burned, until my lungs couldn’t handle it anymore.
i ran and ran and i just kept wishing i could run forever, away from my problems. away from this shitty city. away from these shitty people. i just wanted to run, and never stop.
there are train tracks near my house, and every time i ran over them and stopped. i would think to myself “what if i just sat here and waited for the next train to come?” what if i sat here and waited until it came and killed me.
sometimes my thoughts are the things that scare me the most. those suicidal thoughts that float in and out of my mind. is it bad that everytime i see a hazard i think of ways i could kill myself with it?
last night, every person i saw reminded of the man who sexually assaulted me on my birthday. i would jump and run even faster, in fear someone was following me. every shadow i saw, every sound i heard, i felt like it was someone, something out to get me. i kept on seeing these shadows of people that werent there. i kept replaying the incident in my head, over and over again. the more i thought, the faster i ran.
when i got home i collapsed on my floor and had a panic attack because i felt like something is out to get me, like someone is coming for me. i sat there panting and hyperventilating and shaking because i was so scared.
im fucking going crazy and i cant stop it. i run to feel pain. i run to escape my problems. i run until i cant anymore.
for the first time in months id actually say im starting to feel better. im on a new medication, ive accepted my offer to my first choice university, and im on track for alot of good things. im not by any means “happy” but im definitely feeling better. things are starting to lighten up for me, and its a nice feeling. but something that keeps dragging me down, is my boyfriend. someone who i thought was always going to be there and support me… well hes not so supportive anymore. needless to say, im quite upset. it sucks when you know hes the anchor dragging you down and bringing you back to that dark place. why dont i just dump his ass you ask? well some part of me thinks hell change. the other thing is.. i think im in love with him. i hate myself even more when i think about how fucking miserable this makes me yet i dont have the strength to break up with him. im pathetic
for once in my life i want to feel like i am enough. i want to feel like ive accomplished things, great things. things that people will remember. i want to feel like people value me as a person. i want to feel like ive impacted the world in a good way. i dont want to be invisible. i just want to feel like im good enough.
i dont even fucking feel good enough for my illness. i feel like this is my fault that im depressed. that its my fault i have anxiety. i feel like fucking shit and im mad at myself for not being able to cope. for being so weak. i am not strong, im weak. this illness isnt making me strong, its making me weaker.
today we had a family meeting with my psychiatrist and my mom they kept telling me that i should look at how i would impact my moms life if i was dead. my mom got emotional and it made me upset knowing how little i care. it upsets me that i fail to believe these things even though im trying as hard as i can. more importantly, it scares me how little i care what would happen to those around me if i killed myself. why cant i just fucking believe everything theyre saying. why cant i just appreciate the life im living. i have a happy family and a good future ahead of me. so why cant i just appreciate that and be happy with my life? why do i have to be such a fucking fuck up adding all this stress to those around me.
i am so fucking worthless. from my head to my toes, i hate myself. i care for people who dont care about me, and maybe thats my problem. maybe thats why i feel so worthless.
it hurts when you know that youre always the one there for your friends. whether its 2am or 2pm, youre there. dropping what your doing to support them, because thats the kind of person you are. the kind that cares too much and falls in love too hard. maybe the reason why im always there for people is because i never want them to feel as alone as i do. because i always want to make people feel like theyre worth something, like theyre special human beings on this planet. i always just want to make people feel loved. because thats one thing that i wish i felt. love.
now its not like i have some shitty life with no friends. i have a fair amount of friends. people who are fun to hang out with and genuinely make me smile from time to time. but for some reason, when the going gets tough, when im drowning in my own tears and my own thoughts, none of them are there for me. its like once they see that im suffering no one wants to deal with it, yet im always there for them. always.
why does this always happen to me? i try my hardest to be a good person and make people feel special, but in return i get nothing. i get silence.
one person who i thought would always be there is my boyfriend. i thought he was different. i did so many things for him, like helping him break his shyness and show him how fun the world can be if you just go outside. but instead, im left here, crying, knowing hes lost feelings for me because hes acting strange. because he ignores me texts and takes hours to reply to them when hell reply to others. when he stops saying he loves me. i ask myself, why doesnt he just fucking break up with me if im that much of a drag. but thats when i realise, he doesnt because he knows itll be the last straw, the one that will push me over the edge where i kill myself. and he doesnt want to live with the guilt thinking it was his fault.
what great people i have in my life, eh?
im having a panic attack. over what? i dont know to be sure. but i feel sick. i feel like people are moving on without me. i feel like because ive been in the psych ward for 7 weeks people dont really care. i have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and i cant make it go away. im hyperventilating and the world around me keeps like its closing in. im shaking. i really just want to feel loved and valued. i might be feeling better than i have in months, but for some reason none of that matters anymore. i just cant wait until i move out in august. i need to get out of this city and start over. meet new people. go somewhere where no one knows my name or my history. where no one knows my story. i hate the person who ive become and it seems like everyone else does too.
every time i think things are getting better, they just go to shit again. i just want to fucking feel happy in my life, but apparently fate doesnt want that for me. i continuously ask myself, why arent i good enough? why am i such a fuck up. why cant i do anything right. you see, i have a boyfriend who ive been with for nine months now. i can just feel him getting tired of my shit. i say i love you to him and he doesnt say it back. he doesnt even seem to give a fuck about me anymore. i mean hes probably just dating me out of pity and because his family likes me. why am i such a FUCKING FUCK UP. my friends have all these massive problems in their lives too, way bigger problems than mine. they seem to be coping just fine though, so i ask, why the fuck cant i? why cant i be like everyone else? why cant i feel like im actually worth something
every 40 seconds someone in the world dies by suicide.
every 40 seconds i wish i was one of those people.
i wake up and look at myself in the mirror and hate who i am. i hate my skin, clothes, body face; you name it. it wasnt always like this, really. i used to be so fun and joyful and happy.. what happened? i would die to go back to those times when i loved myself, when i was content with life, when i smiled every day. my life feels like a series of unfortunate events, just happening one after another. its funny because from an outsiders perspective i have it all, im seemingly perfect. why cant i just appreciate this and be happy with myself? i ask myself this every day and i still dont have an answer. im worthless. im nothing. im another collection of atoms in this universe
every person on this planet has problems. issues of their own that they wish werent existent in their lives. some have bigger problems than others, but we shouldnt be allowed to dismiss other peoples problems just because they dont seem “big enough”. big or small, problems are problems, and my question is; why do we have to feel guilty about feeling emotion over issues that seem irrelevant.
we should be allowed to feel however we want to feel. a major problem to someone, might be considered a minor one to another. but we shouldnt be allowed to judge people based on that. emotions are something i dont think we can control, so why should we feel like we need to hide them as much as possible?
i guess this is where some of the stigma on mental illness comes from; our inability to be accepting of our emotions. i mean for myself, i suffer from depression and anxiety. and for some reason, people think that because my life seems picture perfect on the outside, things are perfect on the inside too. but we are all different, and i hate how people think i dont have a reason to be depressed, or im making this shit up for attention. i shouldnt need a reason to justify my illness, it should just be accepted. accepted just like how a physical illness is. i shouldnt have to feel shame that ive spent 6 weeks in a psych ward. i shouldnt have to feel shame that i wake up every day wanting to die. i shouldnt feel shame that i tried to kill myself. suicide is a public health concern, not just some attention seeking cry.
someone will always have it better, and someone will always have it worse, but it is what it is. mental illness is funny in the sense that it affects people at random.
in my country, its suicide prevention month. people are posting all over social media about suicide prevention, trying to seem like theyre “accepting” and “want to help” those in crisis. but what i think most of these people are missing, is the fact that most people who die by suicide usually have a mental illness. and suicide cant be prevented without first treating the persons mental illness. so i think instead of saying we want to prevent suicide, we should say we want to stop the stigma on mental illness so that more people can get treated without feeling ashamed of themselves.
anyone here on antidepressants? anyone here know the numb feeling you get when your on the drug that isnt right for you? im on prozac right now and all i feel is the intense urge to die. i feel incredibly more suicidal on prozac now, more than i ever was before. but for some reason, my doctor doesnt think its the drug. i dont feel like myself though. i feel so out of touch with my feelings and i just feel so numb about everything. theres nothing coming in between myself and my suicidal plans, because i have no feelings. has anyone else felt this way? i know medication isnt the ticket to a life of happiness, but has anyone else experienced what im feeling? does anyone have an antidepressant they would recommend? my doctor said he would try and put me on Zoloft next. anyone have good experiences with Zoloft?
im a coward. one big coward with daddy issues. to him, it seems like my problems are far from real, and that they’re just in my head. that if i just “thought” about being happy, i would be. newsflash, depression doesn’t work like that. i cant just turn my suicidal thoughts off. believe me, i would if i could. but i cant, and thats why im sitting here in the psych ward hating myself and wondering why im still alive. id be happy if it was that easy.
but instead, the doctors are trying to get me to talk to my father about my feelings. but i cant. im just too much of a coward to tell him how he makes me feel. how depression effects my every day life. i hate it. i just want to do it already, but for some reason i cant.
i cant even tell my friends how i really feel because im afraid. they know how bad my depression is, but they just expect that im getting better, being in hospital. but im not. and i dont have the heart to correct them. if i could, id tell them how im getting worse. how i dont feel a thing. how numbness just engulfs my body. how my medication makes me feel worse instead of better. how every day, i wish i never woke up.
im in a twisted state of dark thoughts and anxiety.. and i cant seem to shake it. i just want to leave this world. im slipping and no one hears me. people say i just need to hope, but all my hope was taken up when i was in the psych ward in November. now im just nothing. a young girl wishing she was dead.
cheers to 2017, hopefully my last year
sick and tired. thats what i am. stupid me for breaking down at school and telling the school guidance counsellor about my plans to kill myself. right back to the psych ward is where she took me. i cant believe i cracked, i wish i didnt. now im here against my will for who knows how long. im so angry. so angry and tired of people making my hospitalisation for wanting to kill myself about them. “dont you think about your impact” yes, of course i do. but do i care? i dont. im so numb and sick of people telling me it gets better when it doesnt. it hasnt. for me at least. its getting worse. people are getting fed up with me being in and out of the psych ward, as if i have a choice. just let me die in peace. these people dont get what its like to wake up every day and hate yourself so much, to have this urge to die as badly as i do. and dont tell me suicide is such a selfish option for myself. im giving up, and practising fucking mindfulness isnt going to save me this time doctor, sorry. I just cant wait until i have the chance to kill myself, because theres no fucking way that i want to be another one of those suicide survivors.
yesterday was my birthday. i originally planed for it to be the day i killed myself, but i held on. just to say i made it another year, you know? well, maybe i should have went through with my plan, because while i was walking home, i was sexually assaulted. what a great fucking present. i cant even describe what im feeling now. as if i dont have enough issues of my own. its just what what i needed. i cant stay strong forever. i hate myself. i hate my life. i hate all of this.
I’m longing to die. Every part of my cookie cutter life is driving me crazy. I’m on the brink of killing myself, with suicide always on my mind. I wish I had to guts to act on my plans though. I keep making plans and at the last minute I just can’t do it. I hate living here. I don’t understand why I can’t just relieve myself of this pain and have it over with. I just don’t understand why I don’t have the guts to do the one thing I want most -to die
I feel numb inside. broken and numb. everyone always tells me “why are you so unhappy? you have loving parents and loving friends, theres nothing wrong with you”. im sick of hearing that. just so fucking sick. just because everything is perfect on the outside it doesnt mean that everything is perfect on the inside too. news flash, its not. i just spent three weeks in a psych ward being forced to talk about my feelings and my depression. all the doctors and social workers just looked at me and told me that i needed to believe the fact people love me and itll get better. “it will get better” well, when youre stuck in a depressing state like this, constantly thinking about death, you cant see it getting better. my birthday is on Wednesday. on Wednesday, i will turn 17. and it scares me thinking that all i want for my birthday is to be dead. im sick of people not believing me when i say im depressed. i went to the fucking hospital because i almost killed myself when my mom was home. things can be so perfect yet so crappy at the same time and all i want is someone who understands this. i cut to make myself feel pain. because i hate myself so much i dont deserve to feel good things anymore. i dont deserve to be happy. my scars are a reminder of what a shitty person i am, and that i dont deserve happiness. ive tried reaching out for help. but now im just so fed up with the lack of it and the responses ive received i just want to die already. it feels like im drowning in my own thoughts, constantly gasping for air, and maybe one day, one week, one month, ill let myself drown, and let it be the end of this all