I had a whole long thing written here about how being an introvert sucks and havingÂ what I guess you could callÂ social anxiety has turned me into a social pariah, but it didn’t exactly flow well because I just sort of dumped all of my thoughts onto the page, so I deleted it. Anyway, looks like I wasted another half hour and I still have a lot of homework to finish for tomorrow. Well, technically it’s now due later today. I guess I won’t be getting much, if any, sleep tonight. Life is a *****.
I’m sorry I don’t meet their expectations for me.
I’m sorry I can’t find the motivation to work hard anymore.
I’m sorry I thought they would always be there for me.
I’m sorry I can’t stand the sight of my own reflection.
I’m sorry that I always sleep too much or not enough.
I’m sorry that I feel the need to lie to everyone about my feelings.
I’m sorry for wanting to kill myself,
and I’m sorry for not offing myself already.
Tonight my parents found an empty beer bottle in my room. (I’ve taken to drinking when I feel down) They made a big deal out of it,Â unaware that the same night I drank it I had also downed a considerable amount of rum and two more beers. The other bottles were hidden only a few feet from the one they found, and there have been countless other drinks I’ve had that I threw out any evidence of. I think I might be an alcoholic, on top of being plagued by suicidal thoughts. My parents were quick to point out to me that there have been several other alcoholics in my family. It’s not that I drink particularly often, but when I do I drink way too much. Enough with that though, what confuses me most is they said nothing about the knife I keep hidden only a few inches from where the bottle was. I haven’t cut in a while, but I still keep the knife in my room should the urge arise. I can’t help but wonder, would things get better or worse for me if they found the knife? Or maybe they did, and they don’t know what to say. And the most disturbing thought of all, maybe they just don’t care. I guess I’ll never know, because there is no way in hell I’m telling them. I have so many problems, so many questions, and so much schoolwork left to do tonight, but all I can seem to do is sit here, listening toÂ The Fray,Â and thinking about the road not taken.
Words are wind
GentleÂ summer breezes, the kind that I’m always waiting for but that never seem to arrive.
Winds that bear rain down upon me. Every raindrop is just more bad news, each one building on the last to createÂ an overwhelming flood.
Cold winter winds, that pierce through even the thickest coat, and cut straight into my heart and soul.
Fierce wind storms, tornadoes, that tear down my shelter and leave me broken and battered,Â but still alive to feel the pain.
Words are wind, they always say.
But who says wind can’t hurt you?
The only way I seem to feel slightly happy is intoxicated. And even then, it’s not that I’m really happy so much as I don’t care about my problems. I tried to give up drinking and smoking weed last july, but about two weeks ago I caved. Apparently the only time people seem to enjoy my company is when I’m messed up on something. A few days ago, a couple guys who I hadn’t seen in a while showed up at my house, and convinced me to get high. I was happy to have anyone around, so it wasn’t difficult for them to persuade me. Next thing I know, they brought me along to a party that I wasn’t actually invited to, and I ended up in a corner alone for most of it (so much for being appreciated while intoxicated).Â Somehow, it made me feel worse to be alone and surrounded by people talking and having fun than when I’m by myself. The guys that brought me ditched me, one left with his girlfriend and the other left with a couple other guys to get drunk. I managed to bum a ride home off of a guy I recognized from my school’sÂ swim team, and proceeded to get incredibly drunk by myself, likeÂ several other times in the past couple weeks. I don’t know whats wrong with me, I try to beÂ normal and fun, but somehow I always end up alone in the end. I’ve gone to school several times in the past couple weeks with a hangover, and my grades are suffering. I feel so broken…
Once again I find myself feeling like I’m stuck on my own pathetic little island lost in a sea of misery.
I send out countless notes in bottles everyday, hoping to be rescued, but I doubt most of them are ever found, and the few that are don’t seem to make sense, maybe I’m losing my wits.
The thin straight scars on my left wrist are like an S.O.S. sign made with rocks on the beach, too small and insignificant to be seen.
I’d make a signal fire, but this island is too cold and damp with despair for any sort of hope to ignite.
Oh well, looks like it’s just me and a bottle of rum again. It’s hard to believe I once thought I wouldn’t drink until I’m 21.
I feel like I’m slowly drowning, being overwhelmed by my life. I’m only 16 years old, and I’ve had thoughts about killing myself since I was in 8th grade (I’m a junior in high school now). I’m not really sure how they started, or even why. I was doing well in school at the time, and there weren’t any problems at home. For whatever reason I was tormented by this feeling of worthlessness, maybe it was because I didn’t have a lot of friends, I’ve always been sort of an introvert. When I got into high school, my older brother started doing really poorly in his classes, and was diagnosed with depression. My dad was furious at him, always shouting at him to get out of bed and do some schoolwork or something. Meanwhile, I had lost most of the few friends I had because they went to different schools, and was feeling more alone than ever. This was when I realized that I couldn’t tell my parents about the thoughts I was facing every day, the longing to end it all. My brother managed to graduate high school early, at the end of his junior year, and is going to communityÂ college now but my parents, especially my dad, still see him as a sort of failure. I didn’t want to be a failure in the eyes of my parents, so I never told anyone about the way I feel. I tried my best to keep my grades up, but I was starting to have trouble sleeping at night (maybe insomnia? i don’t really know) and was falling asleep in class, so my grades started dropping. This was the beginning of my sophomore year. As the year went on, things started looking up. I found a new group of friends, and somehow managed to get a girlfriend despite how messed up I am. Later on, some of my new friends and I started experimenting with alcohol and weed, which at the time I thought was great because I didn’t really think about suicide or how much of a failure I am when I was intoxicated and surrounded by friends. Unfortunately, everything I had going for me then fell apart at the beginning of this school year. My girlfriend decided to dump me at the end of the summer, and I still don’t know why, I guess she finally realized just how pathetic I am. I also stopped the smoking and drinking, which I thought would help me develop a more positive self image, (I’ve been feeling pretty stupid and ugly lately)Â but all it did was separate me fromÂ some of my friends. The rest of my friends from last year have been hooking up on the weekends and having sex with each other. None of the girls want me to be a part of that, but I don’t think I want to either, soÂ noe of themÂ talk to me much anymore. My ex girlfriend went off and started something with another guy, and I don’t even want to know what’s going on between them. I have to see her every day in class, and I guess I’m still not over her because it hurts like hell, I tried so hard to hold up our relationship. So now I’m more alone than ever, and my grades are still on the decline. I’m in my junior year, the same time that everything fell apart for my brother, and it’s happening to me too. I’ve started not doing assignments, and faking sick so I can stay home from school. I feel like absolute garbage and I have no one to help me, I feel like I’m doomed to repeat what happened to my brother, maybe worse. Every day I think about suicide, at least 10 times a day. I hardly remember what it’s like to be happy anymore.