i’m done. i’m so unbelievably and inexplicably done. everywhere i turn i’ve got people telling me what’s wrong with me. i know i’m cold. i know i’m detached. i know i’d rather saw my own leg off than trust someone and i know i’m fucking mentally ill. so fucking what? people try to fix me left and right but there’s nothing to fucking fix. “this isn’t who you are” how the fuck would you know who i am? how the fuck would you know what i have going on inside my head? i am who i am. this is who i am. i’m never gonna be who i was. and the more people that ask me what my problem is or tell me how i was a better person 5 years ago the more i wanna pull the fucking trigger. i’m just so fucking done
there’s two sides to the battle going on inside my head
one side is the innocent little girl who got robbed of her childhood, handing me a match, trying to light my way through the darkness
and the other side is the girl who’s demons are taking over, using the match to light a cigarette and screaming at me to mark my skin one. more. time.
i could always use another blistering reminder of what happened that day
the process of my body switching from being completely numb to being so tense to then going back to nothingness repeats and repeats until i’m pulled so tight in every direction and aching in every muscle that i can’t even tell if it’s the depression anymore
a blade, cigarettes, alcohol, drugs and her. they’re always there, they mark me, stop me from being happy. being happy gives you something to lose. i like having nothing to lose, i can do whatever i want and i won’t care about other people’s opinions, theirs don’t stand a chance against my own anyway. i forget about the hate i have for myself. because at the end of the day, i’m just gonna burn it out of me.
i deserve it anyway apparently, to be scarred for life
i don’t know where my emotions start and my emptiness ends.
all i do is try to find them at the bottom of a bottle. hoping they’ll show up. they never do. maybe that’s all i’m good for, drinking myself into oblivion.
why do i keep putting myself through this? life, i mean. it’s completely meaningless.
‘what happened that makes you want to die?’ ha, like i’d tell you
‘what ways do you think of killing yourself? nice try
‘suicide isn’t the answer’ you don’t know the fucking question
little carry on from my last post, i had a thought. i said in my last post i hate talking. conversations about meaningless bullshit are exactly that in my opinion, meaningless and bullshit. i was thinking if i knew any of you in real life i could finally talk to someone and not get those dumb pity eyes. i’d hopefully be understood. and hopefully you would too. i like deep chats, not really about feelings, because who knows how to comprehend and actually talk about those, i mean talking about biggest fears, dreams i’ll never live to see come true, conspiracy theories and all those things… now i realise as much as it would be interesting to talk to you, you might end up hating me almost as much as i hate myself. you wouldn’t be able to top that though lol
hating yourself comes in various shapes and sizes. for some people it’s just hating their acne. i envy those people. i wish i could only hate on my looks. not gonna lie, i’m a decent looking 17 year old girl. i get attention where it’s really not wanted but hey? men trying to grope you and ‘friends’ trying to take advantage of you while drunk is better than nothing right? but with me, i hate my mind. i’m sure a lot of you can relate to that. my mind is a mansion filled with hatred, hostility, venom and apathy. that’s probably where i differ from some of you. i don’t care about anything. i don’t care what people think of me, i’m all too aware they think i’m a freak that’s addicted to the kiss of broken glass but i’m way past giving a shit now. i’m simply too far gone. my mind is also filled with nothingness. don’t ask me how that’s meant to work. i don’t know. i just know i hate it. i can’t physically have a conversation without either forgetting what we were talking about or ending it because i hate talking. i hate that. my minds some kind of hurricane but an empty desert at the same time. i’ve definitely mastered the art of hating myself. have you?
i’ve spent years building up walls so i wouldn’t be so fucking weak as i used to be. years convincing myself i don’t care about anything. and i really fucking didn’t. anyone could say anything to me and i wouldn’t bat an eyelash. until today. today my ex-bestfriend put me on the verge of a breakdown in front of loads of people. i’ve dealt with so much worse but idk why this time it make my walls come crashing down. fuck you. fuck you for making me realise just how weak i am. fuck you fuck you fuck you. now i remember exactly why i wanted to kill myself. it never gets better.
i’m just so unbelievably tired in every sense of the word and i stupidly took a psychology course in college, last year it wasn’t so bad but this year i have to sit in a room with other people learning about issues in mental health. i had my first lesson today and oh my fucking god i felt like i couldn’t breathe the whole time i was on the verge of a break down, i can already tell this is going to be the most triggering year of my life. they all think i’m fucked in the head anyway, i mean you could take one look at me and guess i’m suicidal, i lost all the energy to try act fine a while ago. and to make it even worse there’s a girl in the class who always makes jokes about her mental health, like i understand thats some peoples’ way of coping but you know when you can just tell they’re not being serious about it? like they make jokes about self-harm and all that shit? fuck me i just want to break her nose. i don’t even really understand why i’m so angry about it either. fuck people. fuck chemical imbalances. fuck you. fuck my life. fuck everything. i can’t take it
i think sadness is so complex.
when i say i’m sad, what i really mean is
black abyss inside me filled with cigarette ashes, smashed bottles, bloody skin, empty screams and words i can’t say.
writing on here and suddenly my brother and his friends come into my room begging me to go smoke weed with them
i don’t wanna be sober
i don’t think they saw what i’m doing, if they did i’m fucked
does anyone know of any other websites like this one? if you do i’d appreciate it if you could tell me
i’m a confused and lost soul living in a self-destructive and cold body.
since that one event in my life i’ve forced myself to be a cold-hearted and mean-spirited person because i though it was better that way.
destroy relationships before they destroy you
leave before you get left
i’ve burned enough bridges it’s insane i haven’t drowned yet.
everyone uses the phrase ‘fake it till you make it’ for thinks like confidence and happiness,
but that little girl in me used it to become an emotionless void
and now i don’t know how to turn back.
i don’t even know if i can.