Why am I so angry? i inhaled a shit ton of incense smoke because i read that the fumes can make you feel high. i want vodka, but we’re out. i cut myself today & wow that was invigorating. i havent cut in quite a while actually. i dont wanna talk, i dont wanna live, i dont want to feel shit anymore. i wanna make myself bleed; i wanna tear myself apart. does anyone ever feel like that? my therapist said i should vent my feelings in writing so here i go! my music is so loud my ears are ringing haha and i see these red lines going vertical down my arms & wrist; why wont it stop? why cant i just make it stop? i want someone to make it stop, i want him iut of the house; i want him gone. im scared he’ll rape his girlfriend. im scared he’ll burst into my room and finish the job, rape me brutally andkill me. i lock my door and keep a knife that my moms ex boyfriend gave me. i hate you, i hate him, i hate him so much. i cant cry, can someone just let me cry. he killed me; im dead. i dont even know who i am; and i hate him. he took eveything away from me; he took my life, he kileld me when i was 5: he kept killing me til i was 6. i cant tell anyone i cant tell anyone because my family will be tore apart. i dont want to be a rape victim; i didnt ask for it. i dont want my dad knowig i was raped, or my other brother knowing. ill just be known as the filthy fucking rape victim. the filthy girl who was raped by her own brother. im fucking used; my virginity was takena way when i was 5… im just used. im disguted when i look at myself; when i look at my body and my legs and my arms because all i can see is the little girl. i used to be assertive, confident, why did it all come rushing back. why did he use me. where is god? where is god? everyone says god exists but where is he? does he know what he did to me? i cant breath i cant fucking breath i hear him going upstairs how can he just walk.
my insta is fionasmithhh DM me
i wanna smoke and get out of my mind, dont know anyone who smokes ): my mums bringing home homemade hard cider tomorrow night and im hyped, promised myself I wouldnt drink until tomorrow because i have to pace myself, you know? its a gallon jug.
oh and i had school, it was dope, made new friends, plan on making more. everyone in honors classes are super sweet and nice, but they dont take risks, or maybe they just have better coping mechanisms than me
I’m waiting for my “eureka” moment. I’m trying to find a moment where I’ll just stop and reflect; I reflect a lot, but I don’t change. I read about these moments where people just come to a conclusion about life and they’re satisfied, they’re happy, and they stop caring about what others think. I just want to find mine.
why did i do this??? i drank too much again and i fucked up. i fucked up so hard. i feel so shitty; why cant i just control my impusles.
i just begged a friend to leave me but the i said iw anted her to stay; i dont wanna be selfish but i dont wanna be alone
so I took a tiny break and I’m actually good, I’m feeling pretty hopeful. I’ve been buzzed the past few nights because my ma has brought home this homemade beer, it’s fucking amazing. But I realized that alcohol is actually pretty cool if I don’t overdue it lmao. I feel good as hell and it’s dope asf not feeling depressed every night.
i think i might stop posting on this site/visiting it. for me, personally, when i dredge up the emotions im feeling and type it out like ive been doing, ive just started feeling upset because im re-living/focusing on that negative thing/and or the past. maybe it’ll help
I have a horrible fear of being sent to a mental institution. I’ve heard that if you tell a therapist (licensed), that you’re feeling suicidal, that you could get sent there. I lie about how I’m feeling because I’m scared: I haven’t heard one good thing about them. I want to talk about a different thing but I told an in-school therapist something that happened to me as a young kid and she threatened to get the cops involved. I lost my shit and broke down crying because then everyone in my family would know what happened and I would probably kill myself if my dad and brother found out. Why do therapists insist on taking something traumatizing that happened to someone underage and try and twist into something for other people to spectate on?
school is the fucking worst. im depressed and want to commit suicide, im already focusing on trying to get my head on straight; how do i focus on all this fucking work? my ma pulls out some summer math and is like “you’re not half-assing your work this year.” i wasn’t half-assing, i was and still am, severly depressed, im trying so hard, so, so hard to keep everything together with my mental state. why doesn’t she understand im not as strong as her? i cant just get over myself; im still a fucking kid, why am i being held to the same standard as a grown adult for everything,
How do crickets make noise all night? I don’t know how, but a cricket made its way into the room beside me, it’s pretty loud. Ah, there it goes again; it had stopped for a moment because I went out there to look for it. Like, dude, there’s no cricket girls down here, you’re in a basement, hush your stupid legs.
I’m getting ready to go, and my ma is speaking rudely to me, despite me not giving her any attitude. She’s been a horrible person (alcoholic) to me and my brothers. She says, “You’re not coming if you’re going to be in a bad mood.” Fine. “Alright, I’m not going to go.” She snaps at me. She knows that I have suicidal thoughts and self-destructive tendencies + the fact that I got hammered last night. Why doesn’t she care? This isn’t normal for a 15-year-old. I keep pushing, waiting for her to notice. She doesn’t notice. I have low blood sugar, that’s why I’m in a bad mood. Fuck you. This is why I want to fucking drink. Nobody ever cuts me any fucking slack.
I had some Tito’s last night, half a mug of the stuff. Fast forward half an hour later and I can barely stand, I’m calling my friends and weeping, and everything’s spinning. I woke up on my bedroom floor at 3 in the morning, laying in my fucking throw up. I took a shower with my clothes on. When I fell on the floor, I hit my nose. 0/10, would not do again. And don’t even get me started on how I feel now, I threw up twice already, and all my friends are asking if I’m okay.
I’ve got a bag of Wendy’s, some music playing in the back, I’m just chilling on my bed and yet there’s a little part of me that is unsatisfied. I have nothing missing from my life right now; I should feel 100% happy. It seems like I can never be grateful for what I’ve got. I’ll say I’m grateful but a part of me will always find a way to complain about something.
I’m always feeling dreamy: I just listen to some lofi and zone out for hours, thinking. I want to live in a studio apartment in New York. And there would be a little window overlooking the lights, and I’m just smoking weed w/ a friend or my girl on the bed, just talking about life. Life could be beautiful… I still think it is, I just can’t find it right now.
“I can feel myself dissolving, but I’m too tired to care… this music is nice, I’ll just lay here for a bit.”
I dunno. I can’t tell anyone I know about how I feel because they don’t take it seriously. I don’t blame them; imagine being a teenager and a friend tells you that they don’t want to live anymore. It would be stressful. I don’t want my burdens to be on others, and I am going to therapy, but I just wish I had a friend who understood that I just want to talk and chill about feelings and meaningless bullshit. I don’t need the same old, sappy line or those things that everyone says because they don’t know what to say: Suicide is a heavy word. “You have so much to live for,” is a common thing I hear if I confide in someone. The thing is, I want to take my life because I feel like I have nothing to live for.
You know that feeling you get when you just want to walk and walk until your feet ache and you feel like you’re home? It’s like a feeling that nags at you constantly, it makes you feel helpless and it makes you just want to lay on the floor and listen to sad music. It’s like a… constant feeling of shame and self-loathing; for no reason. I feel like I’m crumbling; spiraling down into pure apathy.
I just want to feel at peace, I want to feel good. Though, my mum is getting a shit ton of alcohol before school starts because I insisted on having “one last night of fun before school starts.” We both laughed, and she agreed. I’m gonna get fucking blasted: Thank god for drinks. I’m a loser and my self-loathing is so low that I’ll fuck with my brain development for a moment of bliss. If I had access to drugs, you bet your ass I would be doing them. Well, school is starting and there’s a bunch of druggies in my school. Maybe I can ask for a favor.
I always take walks at like 12 at night because I’m just sorta, looking for my death. I’m too much of a ***** to kill myself so I want someone else to do it for me. I don’t care what happens to me anymore. I just want to not exist anymore. Hey, at least I’m working out most nights. Oh and by the way, if you like funny things (who doesn’t?) you should totally watch Elvis’ the Alien’s commentary on the movie “Swamp Ape”: It’s the funniest shit ever.
why do I always get fucking moodswings
whatever, I’m just here to complain like always. I felt great like two hours ago but now I just feel melancholy. I don’t feel happy, even if there’s something I like, I don’t feel sad, I don’t feel mad, I just feel distant; I feel like I’m on autopilot, watching my body move around and do things while I just feel like a shell.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to see this side of my dad that I fucking hate. He goes on these political rants when he sees something that pisses him off and just spews off at the mouth about how marriage is meant for a man and a woman. But he makes homophobic comments and I’m a lesbian (he doesn’t know, for obvious reasons). Whenever I see him or I’m around him, I just get sick. He comments on the way I dress (men’s clothes, joggers, t-shirts, sneakers), he comments on me having short hair (it’s down to my shoulders for Christ’s sake). My mom remembers a time when a 16-year-old Britney Spears was on the T.V, and my dad said he would fuck her. A 16-year-old! That’s fucking pedophilia! I have to go to his house tomorrow to sleepover and I don’t want to, I don’t want to be near him anymore, he disgusts me and tries to tell me how to act and look; I feel like I’m just an object and since I don’t look like a “pretty” girl (long hair, feminine clothing, feminine way of carrying myself), he just shits on everything I do. But then, he tries to change his mind about everything because he can tell it makes me self-conscious, so he’ll change his opinions. Example: “I don’t care if a guy and a guy get together or a girl and a girl, but I think it’s wrong for them to marry.” When it’s so obvious he just doesn’t like it at all! Imagine going into a house and staying there for three days, knowing that if your father knew you were a lesbian, he would get mad and disgusted Sorry, this is long, I’m just stressing about a lot of things right now.
I’m going to make a mural in my room and I’m lacking ideas; anyone have ideas?