the more recent the breakdown is, the more it feels like a faraway dream.
Apparently closed eye hallucination is a thing. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t dreaming, I was fully awake, I felt as if my eyes were open, then I had to close my eyes multiple times in the hallucination to open my eyes in real life. I felt first as if I was lying on the other side of the room, then from the dark behind my eyelids I saw a man walking to the washroom, I was squatting by a trash bin, there was a cup of coffee on top of the bin, the man walked into the washroom, then suddenly there was an lineup, a lot of people, lining up in front of the washroom. I got out of the hallucination for a second, then when I went in again it was just me and the trash bin, instead of the washroom and the lineup there was a dark tunnel.
im pretty sure that I wasn’t dreaming, a dream doesn’t feel like that, my mind was slow however i knew that I didn’t fall asleep. Pretty weird but, it was interesting, I can’t seem to get it to work again though.
edit:oops, was about to fall asleep, then I saw this purple blur and a streak of light, even though I had my eyes closed, guess it kind of happened again?
crying wouldn’t get the things out.
If you ever had those Asian meat and veggie stews, there’s a layer of oil floating on top of the sauce and liquid, and at the bottom of the sauce there are grains and clumps of food. When you drain the oil out, the clumps are still in the bowl, more compact, nothing changes. Tearing up is only draining the oil out.
I hate this, I hate how I’m in a constant conflict with myself, and I’m always the one at fault, since I’m fighting myself, I can’t win. Something really trivial happened and just triggered everything back. at least im not crying over nothing again, it happened because of an actual, but hey, hey, I’m feeling something, and fuck the stuff I said while I was in the numb stage, I don’t want to feel this, I don’t want to relive this, it just won’t leave alone. i have to pay back for everything good I feel, I was happy, god I was happy for the first time in months for one single night last week, and now I’ll have to pay the price. It hurts way too much, I can’t breathe, it’s all fake, it’s all fake, the reality I’m living in won’t let me live yet it won’t let go.
this is so fucking trivial, but my photos on both of my phones, they’re all gone, something happened, and there goes every one of them, I don’t even know what happened, but then I was upset, but i didn’t care enough to go into another episode, but then everything on my notepad disappeared.
im so terribly lonely I’m going to die, for the last 15 years, nobody has been to the inside of my heart before, haha, surreal dream, as if anyone actually had a person…we are all suffering, while I’m still holding a tiny bit of expectation, that someone will come and hold my hand.
The more connected we are, the lonelier we get. I see other people’s worlds, their happiness, things I’ll never be able to reach in my life. People under the sun wouldn’t even notice you, they don’t know that the shadows exist.
i havent cried this much in a while, the tears are just coming out and out and out, it’s good, thank god I can still cry. Keeping everything in is so fucking hard, at least the thoughts can flow out a tiny bit with the tears. Over what? Over the shit I wrote in a fucking app, more than that, but that started it all. I took escaping reality a bit fucking much and wrote so much about the love I wanted, I wrote so stories that helped to distract me from the fact that I’m here, and one click they’re gone, I didn’t even do it, I don’t know what happened, my diary disappeared 3 months ago when a similar thing happened, but it never hurt like this before, I through every last bit of me, the part that are still flammable into the bonfire of fake shit, words, characters, fictional relationships, and the protagonist isn’t even myself. I wrote about two people, being happy together, and that was enough, I wrote all and everything, only to have it all taken away from me again, and I’m all alone, its dark. it’s all in my head.
I just wanted to cope with things my way.
its so trivial, it’s fucking nothing compared to other people, yet I’m a fucking mess.
i don’t know what’ll make me get up tomorrow.
i don’t know what’ll keep me going anymore.
I just, secretly, at the bottom of my heart, I just want to be loved, like the character I wrote about, they held each other when they felt upset, they cared about each other, things I’ll never have, All I needed was to just write about it and that’ll be enough to make me happy.
jts taken away, again, just like everything else. I don’t know what’ll keep me going when I opened my eyes tomorrow, technically today, it’s 5:50 am.
In the end, no matter what I post, how I talk, how I feel, right now, at this moment, I’m just a fucking kid, and I don’t think I’ve ever grown out of the shadows, and life just took the last bit of passion out of me, I’m 15 but I ran out of time a while ago
no matter how long I last, it’s always going to end the same. People are right when they say it’s not going to be always like this, that it’s going to get better. But the “better” times come up for one day or two, they disappear, then it’s weeks, months of suffering, instead hearing “it’s going to get better” in the dark, it’s worse to be under the sun knowing that “it’s going to get worse”
I’m not going to read this over, spelling and grammar might be trash, bear with me,
“Then why don’t you just do it?”
there’s no way out, this is way too fucking cruel, I’m running in a maze getting chased down by myself, while life fucks me up here and there just for fun.
I should do it, I should have done it a long time ago, I should have choked myself with the umbilical cord. I just want to live in my imagination, it doesn’t hurt anyone else, but myself yet I can’t do even that. I’m tired.
its 6am, I should sleep
fuck it, what a coincidence that it’s April fools.what if I leave today, a fool dies on fools day
what is it like to be loved?i wouldn’t know. escapism has gone so far where i don’t think i can face the truth, that i’m still alive, in the world. i’m still all alone. nobody’s there to listen, nobody’s there to love me, nobody knows this side except for myself, and i hate myself for it.
i hate myself, oh my god i hate myself with every single cell in my body. the depressive episode ended and being alive has been a numb, grey process of eating, sleeping, playing games, and more, the things i hate myself for. i can’t release the shadows, i can’t feel anything positive, or even negative, to an extent, low libido, low energy. i am not trying to diagnose myself of hypersomnia, but i’m suffering under some, if not many, symptoms of it. i’m so terrified of doing anything to my family, the guilt of being born is driving me insane, but if i leave i would hurt them and if stay i would hurt them even more. i know they love me, they’re the only ones on earth that care about me, yet the memories, the past, what they have done, i can’t go on, i can’t move past it, yet they’ll never know, they won’t ever hear it and they’ll never feel the way i do. i don’t want them to love me anymore, i don’t deserve it. i’m not in the place to talk about any of this stupid little boo hoo im upset stories, while some people has been through much worse and are still happy.
“i don’t think i can feel happy anymore.”
“is that a good thing?”she asks.
i’m tired of changing who i am for people around me, yet i always have to change, all the time, i still do. if i want them to be happy i’ll have to become another, completely different person. who knows if they love me for who i am? they don’t know who i am, i don’t know who i am.
“i don’t know.”i answered her, the freezing chill of the spring wind travelled through the thin sleeves to my arms, then to the rest of my body, and i realized that i was wrong about how everybody felt the same.
i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. the apologies won’t ever reach them. i know what i’m apologizing for, but they don’t. maybe it’s time, maybe i should just say fuck it, forget about the aftermath and leave. i can’t see myself growing old, i can’t see myself in a healthy relationship. i push people out yet i complain that i’m alone, god i’m so fucking stupid. i don’t see myself living that long, i don’t see myself going into post secondary because i feel like i would be gone by then, but now that i see it, it’s almost like i have to keep myself alive for longer. i don’t see myself, i can’t see myself in the future.
i wish i could disappear completely, so that i forget about the fact that i’ve existed, i shouldn’t have an impact on anyone around me, or please, at least make me invisible on earth. everything is grey, i smile, i tell myself “this must be happiness, this have to be”, but i don’t know, i feel the need to smile, but there’s nothing, there’s nothing at the bottom of it. despite of the low..libido, i try to feel something physically, almost as if i’m doing… it medically. there’s nothing positive, not even that. in the end i’m still all alone, dirty, pathetic, all alone in the dimly lit room, trying to tell myself that things are going to fix themselves. i can’t move on when all i can think about is how to live for another month, the aftermath of my death and the reactions of my loved ones. i’m scared out of nothing, self isolation did nothing to me, honestly it helped the anxiety to go down, it’s almost like i want another depressive episode, just so i can cry it out. i don’t deserve it, but i have to release it somehow from myself, right now, in this state, i can’t even cry.there’s nothing, no satisfaction, slight gratefulness when i receive something i used to want, and then the guilt. why should i own this when there are people out there that are dying and need the money? while i’m here ordering things that won’t even make me happy. someone should take my place, someone that can make a better life out of this, someone more likable, someone that is capable of being human. is there anything about myself that i want to keep? i asked myself that question, i can’t change who i am, and it’s all my fault, the only option is to stay a coward and end this for the better, yet i can’t, it’s too selfish, but i can’t wait that long, i can’t live like this any longer.
I woke up, again. into the world where that wouldn’t leave a space for me, to be filled with hatred and anger and disappointment and sadness as everything rushes their way back in again. Yet I know that it’s my fault, but I can’t help to long to be loved.i know I’ll never be, I know because I can’t even put up with loving myself.
I woke up again, for the 5621st time in my life. The sky is gray, I need to go, but to do what? For what?
to work towards a future for myself that’ll only satisfy people around me. Yet the only beautiful future I see is the one without me.
i had a dream, a wonderful dream, where everything went away and I thought the suffering is coming to an end, and I woke up.
the same eggshell walls, light green floral bedding, the same world as always. My eyes were burning. I’ve been crying during the dream. everything was so real.
one day in gr 3’s summer break, i sat through the tv sales ads and watched spongebob all morning just like every day else.
around 1 I took a nap.
mosquito bumps, the buzz of cicada, the linen beddings were moist to the touch, air conditioning wasn’t on to save power. It was nap time yet I wasn’t sleepy. i remember how my eyes traced to the patterns of the off white nylon curtains. i wasn’t much of a napping person as a child, but the only way to escape the heat was to go to sleep.
then the afternoon, it was the hottest part of the day. i snuck out through the wired doors of the apartment quarter. I had a keycard, but the gap was big enough for me to crawl out anyways. i lived close to the school, and near the school opened stationary shops, where i spent the money of my own, or sometimes a few bucks i stole from my parents’ pockets.
comics, cheap toys, if I had enough money, a popsicle.
i wasn’t interested in the idea of walking for fun, but my father had always insisted for me to go on walks with him, and i did on that day. There were benefits, however, there’s a playground in the residential area which we could go, or he could possibly buy something for me from the stationary stores nearby. there was also a dairy bar across a block, but that night we just went to the playground.
I sat on the swing, too short to reach the ground. As my father pushed me i felt the wind blow onto my face, almost chilling as it dried off the sweat on my forehead.
the air was still humid, warm but cooler than the morning, I looked up into the sky where the glow of street lights (dim, dusty, yellowish toned, surrounded by moths) softly blurred my vision. the dots of signal lights of faraway planes. There were speckles of stars in the sky, not a lot of them but visible enough the night to be considered starry. to my left was the murky, greenish manmade pond, thickened by mosses, yet the water glimmered through the gaps in between the lotus flowers and their round, plate-like leaves. A water strider hopped through.the buzz of cicadas softened, yet the night was still noisy, children’s laughters, crickets, squeaks from the chains of the swing
I wasn’t ready to grow up
stopping to ask myself why i can suddenly stop after laughing to other people’s jokes, and there i realized that i’ve been completely joyless, i find comfort and relief in pleasant things, i “enjoy” them in a way, but i don’t feel happy, i can’t bring myself to raise my energy on anything. i’m recording this for me to read later, i think writing this down might help me destress. but i don’t feel the stress, i can’t feel stressed anymore, all there is is fear of what’s up to come, the consequences if i don’t get something done, or if i’ll make a choice that will change things up forever. i don’t want to sleep, i don’t want to face the morning, i don’t want to see the happy faces of people surrounding me, everything feels strange, as if they’re stripping away from reality, or my body and memories are rejecting me. waking up and feeling my identity and responsibilities again, just being alive, seeing this person i hate with every last bit of my heart, i’ve been burning out.
the human race isn’t going to shit, it’s just us.people are so aggressive towards everything else sometimes, it’s almost like they find joy in seeing other people suffer, maybe they do.i wish people had a complete set of morals. kind, innocent people don’t and shouldn’t have to live up the consequences of the mistakes of others, i’m not talking about myself, but i hold hope in the world, humanity, i love this world, just not me, not anything about me or surrounding me.
is having suicidal thoughts 50 times a day a part of growing up? it’s normal isn’t it, everyone struggles with these things, i shouldn’t feel special, i shouldn’t complain.i’m incapable of being human.
it’s so strange, suddenly i see my hands moving and i don’t feel like they’re my hands, as if my brain is defamiliarizing every part of the world, including this body, to me. i’ll only feel this way in one night. every day i think about ways to leave, what’s upcoming, the heart’s i’ll break, the tears, traumas to other people, i don’t want to be seen or to make any sort of impact to the world. again, again and over again, i think about myself and everything that proved my existence or consciousness to disappear, people’s memories of me. i keep on trying to seek the value in myself from others, it’s almost getting fucked up. i’m unable to see myself out of a toxic relationship of some sort, it’s almost like i prefer it.i only talk like this on this website, here i can drop down the characters i’ve been setting myself up as. well, not really, since i just deleted that chunk of personal things. i’m still trying to talk in the right way so people wouldn’t get angry at me, guess you can’t run from everything, hm? you only feel the same things for so long, and i’ll only be like this for tonight, it’s going to be over soon. it’s almost like i’m getting hugged by the air.
to feel loved without guilt. to feel loved, to be loved, to love, i don’t understand. am i too spoiled or self centered? it’s normal for people to go on without love, right? the hollowness is swallowing me from the inside, the pressure from the throat to my chest, the terrible feeling of being alone, for years, staying quiet and taking the blame, only to be bent more and more. i can’t see the value in me anymore, the hatred i hold for myself just for hearing the thoughts in my head. it’s normal isn’t it? for people to live on without comfort. it’s too much to ask for, but at least i want to have someone to tell me if i’m still worth something. they can beat me up, hurt me, whatever afterwards, i just want to feel loved, no matter the consequences. i feel a part mature and a part child, the memories never went away, the beaches and humid air in the summer, mosquitoes and the waves of air conditioning and the scent of dust, spicy snacks, or the polluted sky
i’m too tired to cry
how many times will it take for me to completely burn out? my head is going black every 5 seconds, and it’s so easy to just freeze in one spot for minutes without realizing. i’m trying to distract myself, but i have to do the work. the words on paper seem to be becoming thinner, the the white of the document peaks through from the letters, almost hurting my eyes. i can read the words but it take minutes for me to interoperate what i’ve been reading, i can’t put a sentence together
i’m so tired, i’d die to take a nap right now, but i can’t. i know that i wont be able to(i forgot what i want to write about)
i need some rest.
i need to finish my work, 4 paragraphs more, at least 3, i won’t be getting more than 2 hours of sleep, in class essay tomorrow, i’ll have to prepare for that.
i can’t concentrate on anything. my head hasnt been clear in months. i don’t know what i’m supposed to do, to secure a bright future but the only version of that i don’t see myself in it. i think you know what i mean, i’m too tired to fix the structure.
distractions distractions distractions, i thought about strangling a bit more, but i feel too weak, tired, powerless of my own body i can’t even get down the bed.
my body is so heavy.
should i just not do my part of the work and sleep? avoid it some more and make people hate me more? constant flashbacks to the past, as recent as 1 year ago, still feels so strange.
but i can’t recognize my state of mind
i’ve never felt more worthless, i’ve never hated myself more, yet i’m powerless against myself and this life that’s forced to go on in front of my eyes. the flashbacks of the past and my own voice won’t leave me alone, and i know, even if i reach out, that nobody is going save me from myself.
because the definition of that phrase for me is to end your own life.
how many thoughts regarding suicide in detail is healthy for one to have in a day? i kept whispering to myself how much of a piece of shit i am, that actually makes me feel better. masochonistic enough to put up with everything yet i still care about the people around me enough to trap my consciousness on earth.l had a note app that i used to record things, but recently the app stopped working, i’ve been writing my will on their for a while, and my way of seeing towards the world and my past. gone, i guess, they aren’t worth much either. i’ve been dealing with loss pretty well
or i’m numb enough to see that not as a worry, who cares. i love you
yet i’m still keeping myself alive for the abusers, for the ones unaware of their deed and the ones i love with every last piece of sanity left in me. i know the suicide note is going to include something like “please don’t blame anyone, it’s not your fault”
but it is.
but i can’t talk about it, but i can’t mention it a bit because i want them to be happy.
but to keep them happy i shouldn’t end my life at all.
but i think i also deserve to rest, no matter how selfish, how stupid i am, no matter how much i deserve this, i desperately need an escape
but there won’t be one.
if i’m alive i’m going to irritate and hurt them if i die i’m going to ruin this family. i’m doing terrible things either way. my birth is doomed to ruin them either way and i hate that for myself, i do, i do. i love them but i hate the things they’ve done, the things they’re so unaware of, how they ignored my cry for help when i had the last bit of courage to make things better, the words they said, the sound and the memories carved into flesh that just won’t heal no matter what. i’ve tried to make things better, but they always wanted a different person, i’ve tried to turn myself into someone else, i’ve tried to stop talking, stop the conflicts from happening, stop the things that’ll trigger the condition, but no matter what i do i just can’t seem to avoid it. every part of me is constantly in pain, i tried to run away from it, i tried to forget about it, the traumas and restless nights, thinking about suicide 50 times a day, feeling like my head is so full it’s about to explode. it’s almost funny because before i was sure that i’m depressed i thought everyone had to fight these demons, but no, there’re actual families that are functional and non-toxic. people are actually able to live under the sun and feel genuine joy and go on chitchat for hours without the thoughts popping up every 5 seconds, it’s actually possible for people to be happy without any consequences.
lol, guess i was wrong?
writing about it really helps, i do feel a bit lighter. i might be running a fever, just a little, or is it just a simple cold? i don’t know but it’s actually comforting being sick, i usually get cold chills when i struggle under these episodes, but today i’m all warm and that really helped.
my first post on this site was about how much i want to try a pop tart, filled with swear words, with almost no punctuations. it was funny to look back at the time where i was actually…kind of ok? it’s weird watching how quickly everything worsened, but the thing is, my guy, i still didn’t get that pop tart >:0
I hate it here, it’s always raining in Vancouver, hostile people, grey skies, boring people, boring places, their boring ways to dress, they all watch and read the same stuff. the lack of conversation topics, people are either extremely alike or completely different. Every day just blends into another, the same house, the same bed, the same wardrobe, the same food, same faces, same breakdowns.
It just have to be me to be born here, into a world that’ll never make me feel complete. I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what’ll make me happy. There’s too much beauty in the world, I feel like I could drawn. I can’t express myself at all. I wanted to be heard, but I don’t want to make anyone see the world the way I do. I can’t stand being human anymore, I can’t stand the thoughts anymore. My mind is split into little sections, one day I’m this and another day I’m someone completely different, with the same memory, opinions, but different. I hate this one the most, I’ve posted about feeling this way before, it’s almost like I’m seeing everything with the perspective of a stranger, yet I’m myself. Everything feels strange and new, yet old. Oh please, I’d rather give anything of my own up to forget about me.
hypersomnia and depression, hypersomnia and anxiety, hypersomnia and love and joy and beauties and numbness and the lack of joy and the voices and flashing lights.
i don’t want anyone to be in this place, I don’t know what changed that turned me into this way. It’s terrible, torturous. It’s all in my head, why do I think like this? Why do I talk like this?
I’m so many different people at once.
It’s so hard to describe, especially when you’re suffering from what seems to be a mental illness. It’s not that I have any actual personality disorder or anything, but switching characters is exhausting, switching who I am is exhausting, and my opinions and the way of expression shifts so much it’s not unnecessary, but
but what, but I can’t find a word to get the idea across
i talk, a lot, it’s my character. But I just can’t get what I actually want to say out. My thoughts are almost abstract, when they’re clear they shifts all the time as I become her friend or his daughter, his student or the username on social platforms.
i can’t think of my thoughts
what are your thoughts when you can’t control them?
I talk on this site differently depending on how I feel, that goes for every human on earth. But sometimes the things I state only occur to me when I’m in that situation and mood, that goes for every human on earth, I don’t know what’s the point of me writing this. I feel powerless against myself
i know that I’m not going to be saved, I know how they are, I know how this is. I don’t know who I am because there’re too many of me. I’ve been lying and thinking and pretending and repeating the loop, I don’t know how to make it out, I don’t know when I can save me from myself.
i don’t know what I’m saying. To be human, to live, I can’t keep this up. I don’t know what I’m saying, because I don’t know who this is
After my death nobody will know why, the reason the feelings my view my opinions, all that, I guess it’s good in a way. Nobody will understand who I am and how I feel, nobody will after my death.
the urge won’t last, the urge and thoughts won’t continue, I won’t be killing myself, or will I?
i don’t know when will be the time, I don’t know if I can even last another year. They don’t see it, they don’t and I need to recognize that nobody will ever do. INFP is the most idealistic personality and I fucking hate it, I hate holding hope and fantasies, I hate the nostalgia, I hate being able to speak, I hate being able to think. I don’t know how anyone can put up with being human, the limbs are getting numb, i thought I can’t feel another thing again and I was so happy of it.
the words circling around, the thought of never being understood, the dread around the chest. What’s been triggered by a small issue stays a minor problem to them, I’m so ducking selfish, i want them to understand, And it’s fucking more impossible than making a rabbit walk on its two ears. I don’t want to stop being ill, that’s the only way I can pay back for being this piece of shit. But I’m so tired, I can’t function properly, I can’t act normal and I can’t read minds.
i would drop anything I love to die. But I can’t, but I can’t, all that goes on in my mind is the cost of my death, families torn apart, relatives wondering why I ever did it, how I’m too sensitive and a “minor issue” pushed me into killing myself. It’s the guilt of living and self hatred building up more and more for the past 5 years, it’s the memories, tortured by my own head, seeing other people being normal makes me so jealous I want to die, everything results in one, self harming doesn’t help anymore, self deprecating jokes doesn’t make them love me more. I don’t know why you’re automatically attached to your family, all I see and everything I see is visions of me, knocked over by a car on the highway, half hanging on the ceiling, in a room with charcoal burning, bottles of alcohol, falling off of a tower, the thought of my head, cracked like a watermelon, my thought finally being released. I need to drop all the hope, I wish I’m more ill at this point, where I completely lose my mind and would be able to kill myself in the blink of an eye.
i want to stop loving the others and have my heart twisted and stepped on and be portrayed as the victim, I’m fine with people stepping on me, I just never, never did anything.
here comes the self pity, I don’t even know who I am anymore.
this week i went out with some of the closer friends i have, and noticed that i can actually act normal and conceal everything now. i feel the same no matter what they say, what i say. we watched the film searching and eventually i gave up on killing myself in somewhere hidden.
if you don’t know, searching is about a father searching for his disappeared daughter, i don’t know, it scares me that people’ll look for my rotting body and everything
i don’t know how long it’ll take for people i care to die of old age. i don’t know if i can make it that long. my brain is either completely blank and rejecting any informations or filled with those words, where i whisper to myself again and again how much of a piece of shit i am, almost sucking on the phrases as a pacifier, to reassure myself and see if i’m still there.
i’m completely numb. anger is washed down, same goes happiness and being sad.i don’t want to make this sound fancy so i’m just going to use the basic emotion words, but sad, for fuck’s sake i hate that word. i stopped feeling love along with most of the positive things. there’s just nothing. i don’t know how else to fix this but to…release some tension through the sexual way, but it’s almost like i’m doing it medically, this is really fucking weird to put out. my body don’t want the feeling, but if i don’t feel something comforting, i’m really going to collapse. but there’s something that keeps on screaming and yelling and telling me i should drop all this and run away. i can’t bring myself to do anything anymore. i don’t know when the day may come. sometimes i feel like there’s this steel rod, digging into the back of my neck, where there’s this little curve, leading to the bottom of the skull. break it, break it, but the rod stays there, and the voices continues. i know i deserve this, every single part of it. but i’m exhausted, every part of me is tired. dreams after dreams, no matter if it’s 1 hour or 11 hours of sleep, i can go on and on without stop, if only i get the chance to.
ive been struggling so much just to get simple things done. what originally would take me 2 hours to finish went from 11pm to 5am. i can barely remember what i want to say, i can’t do my daily work without being affected anymore.but still i’m too scared to ask the teacher for an extension, i’ve lost hope on communicating to family or friends, i’ve tried my best to be normal, i really did, really, but the effort goes into nothing. i’m completely drained, completely burned out. i’ve sunk to the bottom, again. no matter how hard i work i just can’t get the things right. the past 2 years has been the lowest point in my life, not saying i’ve lived long, i don’t want to live long, how am i going to make it to die of old age? how long will it take for everyone who knows me to die?how long will i wait? i’m exhausted. maybe i’m just overthinking this, maybe i’m not mentally fucked, maybe when i open my eyes after 2 hours everything’ll go back to the way they were. nothing and everything is going on at once, every drop of rain hitting the roof, every muscle pulling my fingers to type. why am i, out of everyone why am i here? this room needs to be owned a person who actually deserves to be here.
it’s raining in vancouver
escapism or whatever, i just need to feel loved or something positive so desperately. there are certain books and mangas have been giving me these beautiful dopamine rush. i forget about who i am, where i am, and i drawn in the pleasant sensation that goes from my arms to my stomach, my back.
it feels so good, well, but just like every time, when you go under the sun and return back everything just feels dimmer than they originally are.
i’m physically attached to it, when it comes, almost like an asmr tingle, i float up in the clouds.but i won’t always get them. for now they are physically making me feel better
update, i fucking hate myself again i hope i disappear from everyones mind so i can hang myself all alone and die without an identity!
i’ve been wearing black turtle necks a lot because it’s warm for winter-i haven’t strangled in a while (not in a sexual way lol idk how people get off to that), i like it bc i dont like the feeling of getting my skin cut through or whatever, and it usually leaves less of a mark, but this time i did it and i guess bc i havent done it for a while i didn’t do it correctly (ig theres no correct way to do it i just have my way), and it left some thin marks and it was mediocre, i didnt even feel anything. since i’ve been wearing the same turtle neck for so long (uniqlo and their good quality), i’m kind of tired of that, but i have to wear that again to cover the marks up. usually, well most of the time i get a slight red mark but little red blood marks pop up on my face and neck, ik it’s bad for my skin but at least it looked natural. well, my point is, i really dont know the point actually, but this time it left obvious marks and i hate that!!
microwaved bread with nacho cheese on top is kind of good
10 days without feeling upset, or not feeling anything at all. i’ve been keeping my mouth shut. no part of me is on social media yet i’ve put up what other people see as “everything”, no part of me is true, not in reality, not online. when i used to feel things, i would post them on a close friends list, or write them down on my notes, just to remind myself i’m feeling that way, really stupid of me but that was how i coped for a while. the happiness, for half a night i would be almost high on happiness and drown in a dose of confidence and the other time i felt complete trash and i thought posting would help, because making fun of my current situation would make me a outsider to my feelings.
well, that didn’t help and honestly that was the worst thing i’ve ever done to myself.
now nothing goes out. i try to communicate though, online or in real life.making stories like how i saw a bird slip and fall on wet ground (yes i know it’s stupid), to make others feel like i still exist, i’ve done everything to keep people interested yet i get no effort, no attention back. i think i know why, it’s because i’ve put myself down to the mud with all the self deprecating shit and now i’ve made everyone around me feel superior, i don’t even know if what i’m saying is making sense, but who cares, i’m not posting this for anyone to read, i just have to get it out there, one way or another.
i can’t feel anything now. i can’t even phrase it, i don’t feel anything. i know or by nature i feel the need to react a certain way, laugh or be sympathetic of someone, but i don’t feel anything inside. i used to cry from the negative emotions, now, i don’t know, i can still cry, a tear or two, but i feel truly nothing inside, as if i’m too tired for the emotions. i don’t know who i am, i never knew who i am, but now i truly don’t understand why i am feeling this way. i don’t need a reason, i’m so tired, i just want to sleep.
i can’t leave, i can’t die, i can’t go to sleep.
my death would ruin my family.
i’m only doing the things i do to stay alive, to make sure i get a job in the future, but i don’t even want that. i’m so tired i just want to go to sleep, once and for all. i don’t want a future, yet i have to work to get a good one. ok, tears, am i feeling anything though? i doubt
dysfunctional family, mental illness, memories and memories and memories and memories i can’t escape from, i’ve died a long time ago.
words that don’t define who i am, i hear it from them every single day, i never expected understanding from anyone. the only thing worse is that they are occasionally, decent people, and they see it as if they’re granting me something i don’t deserve. i’m scared to tell them, they ask but they don’t listen and from experiences, countless times i tried, it’s never going to go through.
i’m not falling apart. i’m a plastic shell with shattered pieces, i never thought any of this would happen, i never thought it’s possible to feel anything like this. it’s my fault that i became this ill fuck. it is, it is, it is, it is, it is but they turned me into this, no it’s not them, it’s me, it’s me but it’s them, it’s them but it’s me. i hate my family, i hate them i love them i love them so much i want to die, they can hurt me, hurt me more, hurt me more and drown me alive, they can do anything because i love them, oh i love them i love them so much i love them so much. i just can’t live with this anymore, i can’t with their words and my thoughts and my conditions and my head i can’t ,live in my head i can’t live in my head i can’t live in myself. i can’t live in myself, i can’t be myself, i don’t know who i am. i’m the only one at fault here, if i weren’t here, nothing like this would happen. one second i’m ok the next second i’m
when i was a child i never thought any of this would happen, when i saw the things in the world as what the others see in a world. the beaches, the sun, the energy drinks and knock off adidas, when i had a glow in my eyes and nothing in my heart.
i’m pitying myself, again, shut up.
i can’t go on, i can’t go on and i can’t go on but if i end it here i’ll ruin other people’s lives, i’ve lived for the others for my whole life and even at the second of my death i’ll continue to do so. i can’t die. i’m torturing myself but i deserve it, i deserve what i feel, and i’ll continue to do so, with that clown’s motive in my head and layers of masks on my face, praying that a car’ll run me over, or a school shooter shoots me in the head. things in my head that’ll never get across, maybe they’re justified, maybe it’s just the part of being in jail, like the shitty meatloaves and orange jumpsuit, maybe i deserve it for committing the felony of living as who i am. so what’s the problem? keep hurting me, keep hurting me, keep hurting me, i’ll even do it further. the voices, the memories, the things the illness feeds me——i even opened my mouth for the spoon to go in. don’t ever talk about it, don’t ever say it out loud. someone as disgusting and ignorant as me should have no right as a human being, i shouldn’t feel any sense of happiness at all, i shouldn’t wish for better at all, i shouldn’t reach for other’s love or ever go under the sun.
i want to be in pain, self contradicting since i’d die to be less ill. i want to be in agony, i want to stay in this purgatory named life. i deserve this as a punishment, i deserve everything that has happened, i recognize the fact that it’s my fault for being me and i deserve to be kept in this prison, but it’s only human nature to be a coward and an escapee, yet i can’t with my head half sunken in water and my arms tied to the walls and my legs chained by reality.
Please log in to report posts