My parents discovered my cuts because my aunt told them when she noticed it.
I don’t know how to explain it to them. I just want to end it all. Yes, I appreciate the good things. Yes, I am aware of your love. Yes, life is beautiful. I KNOW. I FUCKING KNOW. BUT I JUST REALLY REALLY HATE MYSELF. I JUST WANT TO DIE.
Why do you say it like it’s my fault that I need to say sorry? Why do you say it like you’re the victim? Because you were hurt? That the pain on your back is coming back because of my cutting habit? Why do you think you understand me? You can’t and never will.
You suggested that I must talk to you about my day every time I come home. That I should text you when I feel sad. Well, remember when I actually did in the past? Then you said you are in pain because of me? I never tried to tell you again. Why? Because you’re making me feel guilty about it.
I want you to know that I just really want to end it all. It’s just that. I let go of hatred long time ago. I already let go of the apathy. I accepted this weak me. I accepted it and I’m not turning my back on it ever again. I lied to that little girl back then. I told her lies that everything will be okay. And I ended up killing her. Now, this is her. And I accepted her. We are one now.
I don’t want to tell you I don’t need a God. I rather burn and rot in hell. Because I know that’s where I belong.
I still love death. But you wouldn’t understand that. And it’s not your fault.
I enjoy life. I mean it. There’s a lot of interesting things to see. A lot of things to write poems about. A lot of things to draw. A lot of people to meet and know. A lot of stories to read or hear. A lot of games to play. A lot of things to learn. I could bike all day. I could watch the sea. I could lay down on a grassy hill or plains. I could plant sunflowers. I could sew a dress. Or learn a new language. TRAVEL THE WORLD. Or discover a whole new world.
There’s a lot of things to do in life.
A lot of things to love.
But by the end of the day, all I could think of is:
“What a boring world.”
I think my girlfriend is getting depressed again.
I want to help her through this so I’ll try being strong for her to hold on since she has done the same for me multiple times in the past. I hope we can get through this.
Cheers, my friends.
Do you know what is more cruel than hatred?
It’s better to know that things didn’t work out than not knowing it’s another joke thrown to you by life.
Sharing time: There’s this classmate of mine who’s disliked by the majority of my class. And instead of confronting him, they mock him masked with approval. And not the good type. It’s the it’s-obvious-you-can-see-it-in-their-faces.
And I just thought. Isn’t it cruel?
Socializing is hard.
Something I drew in the past.
My idea of depression and anxiety is a black goop with eyes and mouth. Enveloping me with its huge, heavy body. Weighing me down that I can’t even leave my bed. Telling me things that will hurt me. It’ll leave me all weary. No matter how I wash it away, it’s still there. Laughing triumphantly. This little shit. XD
I’ve been living this life for 17 years now. I know some people might say, I’m too young to think my problems are that heavy. Imagine them as an adult paying taxes and what not. I know. And I think you’re awesome.
There’s me. Not exactly loved, not exactly hated. I’ve experienced to be showered with attention. I’ve experienced to be bullied.
As a one-month old to three-month old, I have a sturdy grip and balance to walk myself out of the walker. As a child, I have a passion for adventure. You’ll never see me in one place. When I was finally ready for school, I never cried when my mother let go of my hand. They thought I was strong. I thought I was strong.
When I was 6, in that fateful night, comes the end of me. My father came home drunk. My mother is stressed. My brothers are there. I’m there, thinking how to make him stay. They said I’m the only one who can convince him. They always push me to convince him. “How?” is my question. I remembered a girl who teased her father. They were laughing. Right now, they need laughter. I need to make them laugh because I’m the youngest. I said the wrongs things. He left to drink again. They looked at me disgustingly. My brother wished me death. I wished myself death.
My sleeping and eating pattern was distorted. My thoughts become distorted. I fell in love. I fell in love with death. She was beautiful. Every night, I sing her love songs but she won’t accept it… No. I still have hope. Hope that one day, everything will change. I love Death but I was not ready.
At the age of 13, my mother had cancer. I discovered my father’s sins. My brother hated me. I wanted to die. There I was planning it all in my head. Then, she came. The very first human I talked all of this to. She listened to me when nobody took the time to. She loved “me” who I want to kill. But I’m afraid to love. I fear that my feelings are just a misunderstanding. I’ve seen my relatives be unfaithful. I lost the faith to love. Believe in love. Ah. But one night, I thought, this must be love. And I cry. I cry because I learned that I am capable of emotions. Of love. She is beautiful. But she too is broken. The world is cruel.
At the age of 16, my family’s curse showed up. My father cheated with the maid. It broke my mother. It broke my brothers. It broke me. In that exact day, I was ready to forgive him but it was too late. My family was in a mess. And my girlfriend cut our contact. We have a long distance relationship. I was always uneasy. Where is she now? What is she doing now? Is she alright? Is she still alive? I tried other ways to communicate. She didn’t reply. I was scared. I was breaking down. No one to call. No where to go. I was lost. Even my parents worked it out and my girlfriend talked to me again. It still left something in me.
I walked this world. So are people. All sorts of people. Even strangers that will molest and hurt you. People exist. I exist. We must socialize with others because we are animals. We fight each other because we are animals. Reproduction and survival is the purpose of every organism.
People have their own beliefs and idea. Every people’s beliefs and idea can intersect with other’s but never the same. That’s just how it is. We can sympathize but never understand. Humans are just another mystery along with everything. Everything is a mystery. And the unknown can be scary.
Innocence. Innocence can be destroyed. It’s beautiful but pitiful. Because we know, it can end harshly. Life will just slap you in the face with reality. This is reality. This is the world. This is life.
I can be stopped but never be saved.
Thank you for everything. I’m sorry for everything. Cheers, my friends. May the other side be better.
Something triggered again.
The world is a scary place, huh?
Just a couple more days, we’ll be having a sembreak and I’ll be taking medications.
Right now, I feel really tired. We have finals today. Can’t even get one thing memorized..
Later. Gotta go to the lecture now.
Since I was not able to meet my therapist yesterday, (thank you, freeroma, for killing time with me.) I was thinking of going today.
BUT I have this professor, who is aware of my condition just recently, that I think is waiting for me to take the last quiz that I failed to attend to yesterday.
And I don’t want to fail her expectations on me coming. So, I’ll try to get up and suck it up. I mustn’t run away.
I’m here standing in a hospital. I asked the psychiatrist if I could come and he said he’ll be there.
When I got there, his secretary told me he’s done for the day and come back on Thursday.
Thursday. Thursday. I want to thrust a knife in my body right now.
Things I hate about my depression.
- I can’t focus at all.
- Feeling really empty and guilty
- The domino effect. Bad things happen after another because I decided to skip a day and just lay down.
- The constant thought of dying.
- The sudden panic attacks or just the feeling of being on the edge of a cliff. Just there. Not falling but not exactly okay. Then breaking down.
- Even though I’ve thought of changing, my body won’t listen.
- Can’t eat normally. Hungry but will feel uneasy after two to three bites.
- Being blind to good things.
- Anxiety, man…
- Worst of all is that I made my mom disappointed at herself.
I appreciate my mom sending me inspirational messages but really, it’s just me. No need to blame yourself. It’s just me being a coward. Sorry for wasting your money. Sorry that I’m having a hard time being normal.
Okay. I have seen a psychiatrist. He asked me a bunch of question(we still haven’t talked about stuffs though)
So, the conclusion for today is I’ll be taking antidepressant.
So, how does it work? Like, will you be able to stop thinking of death or will it just let me be less negative about things?
Will it change me? I’m feeling a little conflicted about this. I feel like if I kill this part of me, I’ll die somehow. I’ve been living with this for like 11 years now. Since I was 6. And well, suddenly killing it is… I dunno. Overwhelming?Who will I become?
I’m finally doing something to change. Do I really want to change? Do I really want to leave this gray area? I’m somehow scared.
I was on an escalator at the mall. So I was there occupying a huge fucking space and there’s this woman who wants to go through. Seems on a hurry. She then says, “Excuse me.” With a firm tone. And I said sorry, which is a habit of mine, and she thanked me.
I don’t know about the others but this seriously warmth my heart. For a person who’s so busy, she didn’t forget to thank a person.
It was a nice feeling, really.
So, I had a new step grandfather and we only meet one month a year whenever they visited our country. So for short, we are of different race and culture. So, meaning to say, we have different ways of interacting.
So, umm. This month he took a liking to me. Like a grandfather. And I, who hate myself, is okay with it. BUT as I was saying, different. He would try to kiss me on the lips, his hands on my waist and ass. And most often when he’s hugging me, he would kiss me on my chest(not breast) Maybe, pure difference in the way we were raised BUT I have my fears.
And men’s touch and desires are one of them. I had my history of child molestation. And his touches gives me nightmares. It’s bringing back memories that I don’t want to remember.
And my parents and grandmother wants me to please him because I’ve become his favorite. But I don’t want it. I’m scared. I really am. Now, I’m always hiding from him and avoiding him. But I know it won’t last for long because they said they’ll going to get me to live with them. Just the three of us in a new country for me. I am scared.
They don’t know my fear. And I don’t want them to know. Well, of course hearing your daughter got molested when she was a young girl isn’t something you want to hear.
Still not getting any better. Laugh at everything. Interact with anyone. But still none. I still want to die (But I can’t. A lot of things to reconsider. It’ll be my fault if mother would go crazy, father would go back to drugs. My brothers’ lives would be affected. My girlfriend would be depressed again. So many things to reconsider but sometimes I just want to end it all.)
So, I’ll just cut and burn instead of committing suicide. Alternatives. I still want to die.
A coward. That’s what I am. I kept on running and running and running away.
In the end, I’ll just cry. Nothing changed. Nothing.
And my gift for myself is a fucking razor.