So I left and took the car my mom and me co-own but that she made most of the payments on. I went and stayed with a couple of druggies that offered to let me crash for a while but not before I took 666 dollars out of the joint account I had with my parents and bought a bar of gold using my dad’s Amazon store card to makeup for the shit he broke and refused to pay for. The druggies let me crash on their floor with a mattress from Monday to Thursday when they robbed me. I went down to the basement storage to get the mattress for the night and they took the keys I left on the table and in those 5 minutes they went in my car and took like 500 bucks cash. It was locked like I did every time I left the car. The next day after I accused them they were awfully unperturbed about the accusation. I went out to hustle up some money selling crack and that’s when I found out that the one guy who had just pawned his tv for 125 bucks who I had driven to the pawn shop spent a 100 dollar bill with the heroin dealer and there was no way he should have had that much money as he had spent at least half on the crack we were going to hustle and even if he had sold all his crack he wouldn’t have had a 100 bucks because he had just spent 50 the night before on heroin. So I went back to the apartment at about 4 and accused em again of stealing my money and said I know you been spending 100 dollar bills you shouldn’t have. He says fuck you get the fuck out now and I was like not without my money and my stuff. He grabs a 2by4 with a nail sticking out of it and swings it at me hitting me in the side. That pissed me off and I tackled him to the floor and grabbed the 2by4 and started beating him in the head with it as I laid on top of him saying “fuck you piece of shit”. How dare you invite me into your house knowing I’m homeless and down on my luck and then fucking Rob me when I been buying groceries and getting everyone in the house high. Stuggled a bit and then ran out the door cause he was shouting to the neighbors to call the cops. Fled the house with the dealer that was waiting out in my car as I was just supposed to be stopping back for my Camelback water backpack. Drove off and went to a park and checked out the brusies on my forehead and side where he hit me with the 2by4. Had the dealer punch me good and hard in the side to make the bruise look better after deciding I better go the cops to try and get back in there for the rest of my stuff including my tv. lost the bar of gold and my bag of dope in the fight. It fell out my top pocket. Went to the cops and they went over there to see what was up and if I could be escorted to get my stuff. the guy and his woman had all my stuff piled up on porch except for my dope, my weed vape, and my bar of gold. They had a good story for the cops I’m sure so the cops couldn’t do anything about the 500 bucks they robbed or the 5 gram bar of gold. conflicting stories and my word against 2 of them making up bullshit so nobody went to jail including me. Left and used 50 bucks I had in the bank to buy some dope and then went back to my parents house cause I knew they should have left for Michigan for my cousin’s wedding by that point.nobody was home. Took another 500 bucks out of the joint account…went to the casino and won a couple hundred bucks playing poker. Went back again on Saturday and lost it all except for 240 bucks. Spent last 100 on dope and then went back on Sunday to try and win back money playing poker. Lost again after getting up couple 100 when called all in on the wrong bet. regreted it as soon as I did it. guy had trip 8s and called my all in on my 2 pair of Kings and 8s. Went back to the house broke and with no options left. Decided to kill myself this morning. took the rest of my heroin 4/5 of a gram and busted it down to powder. Took it all in a bunch bunch of lines one after the other and downed a quarte a 1/5 of vodka, half a 5th of gin and 4 Tylenol to potentiate the heroin. didn’t fucking work. Passed out for 4 hours and woke up with a gasp. I just can’t fucking die. before doing all that I wrote notes and mailed one to my ex who I’m not supposed to contact explaining that I’m dead and I just can’t live without her. I guess I really am in hell cause I just can’t fucking die. why do I keep living with all these huge doses of drugs? I guess 5 failed attempts makes me the worlds biggest loser. I might as well resign myself to living at this point.
Hi. I’m not sure if I want to live right now. I’ve been rereading a suicide note that I wrote a while back, trying to change its meaning into something less bleak. The problem is, I’m a fairly good writer, (even though it hurts to do so). I’m scared to die, but I can’t stand this. Would anyone be willing to lend a counter-argument to it? I know it’s not much, but I can send you a few dollars over PayPal as a thank you if you want.
I wrote a letter yesterday to my grandma telling her to not blame herself for my decision. No one was to blame for what I have done. I lost my papa in 2017 and I have not coped well since then. I died with him and I have finally understood what that meant. My boyfriend has tried to help me but I don’t share my feelings. So my decision comes from only me. I am alone and have always been alone. No matter how many people I surround myself with, I have always felt alone.
It makes things like this easier because I don’t have anyone to say anything to me that might change my mind. And honestly I questioned everyday why I was even here? Why was I born to hurt? Why my parents left me at 3? Why Michael let me be abused by his gf and her sons? Why didn’t Deanna want me? Why birth me if you didn’t want me? Why did I have to have pain? Why did Michael have to run in and out of my life, continuously failing me as a father? Why is my grandma getting remarried? It’s only been a year since my papa passed. I wish you all could hear how she talks about her new life now. She’s happy but she’s quick to tell me , papa is gone and she’s about to get a new family. Am I not her family anymore? Everything is changing and it hurts. It all hurts. I can’t tell anyone how I feel because they’ll make me feel guilty. I don’t want to bother anyone with my problems because I know someone has it worse then me and I feel guilty for even sharing this.
I don’t need anymore reason to finish everything. I made my peace with it and I can’t even say sorry about it. Who is honestly going to miss me? It’s been proven time and time again that thing are always fault and it’s easy to cast me aside.
I don’t share my feelings for a reason because nobody cares. At least when I wrote my feelings down I get it out but it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.
I think things would be better off without me. My parents wouldn’t have to feel guilty about me. There wouldn’t be a reason to since I’m no longer here. I feel that would make them feel better. As for my grandma she’s looking forward to her future and I don’t think it would bother her much for me not to be apart of it. It already sounds like I’m not so there’s really no reason for me to stay right? I don’t think so either.
Something is seriously wrong with me.
I always knew that. Even as a kid, I knew I was fucked in the head. With no other way of explaining it, I deduced that I was actually a demon. I know that’s not the case now. I’m just broken. No, broken would imply that I was able to process the world properly at one point. I’m not broken. I’m dysfunctional. A misshapen gear unable to mesh with the other cogs in the works.
Most people are driven to work towards their goals, to make their mark in the world, to fight for what they believe is right. I don’t. Activism upsets me, change terrifies me, and my ideals are there one day and gone the next. Nothing I am is set in stone. I’m too easily swayed, too quickly convinced I’m in the wrong. At this point, what is right or wrong anymore? Who dictates it? God, society, psychology? Maybe, maybe, and maybe. My brain wraps around concepts and unravels at counterpoints, to the point where I legitimately don’t believe anything anymore. I’m eternally passive towards politics and things of the like. After all, my opinions are dust in the wind, flying out of sight the second they reach the open air.
It’s come to the point where I’m bitter towards those with set goal, set morals, set aspirations. But even more so, I’m bitter towards myself. I don’t feel as though I belong with anyone who I’m dictated to side with. Not with women, not with people of my race, not with Christians, not with the LGBT community. It’s all so rigid, and yet eternally moving at a breakneck pace. Like a freight train. If I stand in the way, I’ll be run over on the tracks.
I want to be dead. Because as of right now, death is my only constant aspiration. Why stay? I hate myself, and if I have to reside on this earth of constant noise any longer, I’ll soon grow to hate everyone else.
I’m about to try smoke some weed. Is it good? what can it do?
So I drank some vodka popped like 3 barbiturate pills and snorted as much heroin as I could manage before passing out and I still managed to death rattle 4 fucking hours to be “saved” by my mom. Fuck my life. This is like 4 times failing to die overdosing on heroin. Yes it’s definitely heroin as I found out in the 2 weeks of being restrained first at the hospital and then at the mental loony bin that was worse than jail. If I had known it was this hard to die from heroin I would have been a lot less carful in the past. Fucking government propaganda. I guess all these deaths are people seriously trying to reach Oblivion. I clearly don’t want it bad enough. I guess number 5 is going to take being truely extra. I thought that was going to be enough i mean fuck I made sure I had no tolerance by laying off for weeks. Most embarrassing demeaning shit. Either I’m imortal, I’m in hell aready and there’s nowhere to go, or it’s just not possible to od and die snorting it. I’m going to have to get a needle to really make sure. How does anyone die from this shit? I did like 4 times more than would be required even to a acheive Oblivion and be asleep…Found out at the hospital the reason for all my pain..3 herniated discs. Now I know I’ll always be in extreme pain just makes me want to die that much more.
My friend A_____ turned 50 last year. I organized a nice little birthday gathering for him, which was especially meaningful for everyone since he’s battling mantle cell lymphoma (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mantle_cell_lymphoma), and optimistically has another five years to live.
I’ve known A_____ for at least five years. I certainly considered him a friend before his cancer diagnosis several years ago, and as soon as I knew what he was facing, I promised myself that whatever support he needed, I would always be there for him.
We’ve always had a very easygoing, normal friendship. He has always treated me with nothing but kindness and respect. We’ve always had a great time playing backgammon together, laughing and ragging on each other in a good-natured way. He trusted me enough to go down to Tennessee with me for the big solar eclipse back in 2017, even when he know we’d be sharing the same motel bed (I had made the reservation a year earlier), which I’m sure was no small thing for him.
And YES, he is a perfectly normal, well-adjusted, relentlessly heterosexual guy. He is as Straight as a two-by-four, as we say. So imagine how horrified I was when I realized I had fallen in love with him.
It was one night in February of 2018, down at the little dive where we play backgammon. On this particular evening it was pretty crowded, and I was seated at a table with some friends of mine. At one point I spotted A_____ up near the bar talking with some other people, and he was laughing and gabbing and carrying on as he does. And I sat there, watching him, listening to his voice from across the room …. and suddenly I realized that as I was watching him and listening to him, I was slowly stroking the beard on my chin.
And I CAUGHT myself doing that, and I thought, “Whoa whoa WHOA, what are you doing? Stop that! What the fuck? Don’t even GO there, ha ha!”
But suddenly I was very alarmed at how I would be watching A_____ like that. And when I started thinking about it and examining my feelings, it began to dawn on me that I had been thinking about A_____. A lot.
And that’s when I really , really started to PANIC.
As soon as I got home, I got online and started furiously Googling words and phrases and questions, and cross-referencing things in a desperate effort to find a website or a chat room or a discussion group where someone could give me some advice, because if I didn’t nip this thing in the bud, I was doomed. I was thinking, “I can’t believe this had to happen to ME! I don’t WANT this! I don’t NEED this! What do I do? What do I DO????”
Eventually I made contact with people who knew what I was going through. None of the answers were good. Some people said, “Look, just hang in there, you’ll eventually get over it.” Others said it was best for me to stay as far away from A_____ as possible. But how could I abandon my friend? HE’S the one with CANCER!
So panic gave way to pain. And the pain eventually gave way to deep, deep despair.
Even worse is that over the past year I have learned something very ugly about myself: My capacity for JEALOUSY. I’ve never had to deal with jealousy until the past year. And I HATE it. It’s NOT who I’m supposed to be!
I have always striven to be a kinder person, the best friend anyone could ever have, so that when it’s my time to go, at least I’ll be well spoken of and well remembered. I think that’s all any of us could ever ask for. And I was at peace with that, even if I finished out the rest of my life alone and unloved.
But when THIS happened, sixteen months ago, that peace of mind I had achieved was fucked all to hell.
Sixteen months of despair. Some days have been better than others. But every time the despair hits me particularly hard, it wears me down just a little bit more. And now I’m at a point where there’s nothing left to wear down.
A_____ did nothing wrong. I have done nothing wrong. The only thing I’m guilty of is having a heart, and no one ever said the human heart was logical.
i can’t take it anymore. i hate it when he yawns, when he makes a disgusting sound when he drinks tee, when he chews food with open mouth, when he licks his fingers when he eats (I MEAN WHO ON EARTH DOES THAT!) when he makes some disgusting sound i don’t know if there’s a word for it… when he’s not doing anything with his fucking mouth but still there is a disgusting sound. OH and when he kisses my niece and nephew (his grand children) he makes this hateful disgusting sound with his wet lips UGHHH…
i mean like i’m in my room doing my shit and focusing and enjoying my life and the suddenly he YAWNS so loudly that i want to KILL MYSELF!
sometimes i with i was at least deaf. it’s true that then i wouldn’t be able to play piano or listen to music but that’s okay, as long as his disgusting sounds doesn’t make me wanna RIP MY EAR OFF. i mean last night i was in my room and i literally hit my head on the floor and it hurt so much. i can’t take it. i don’t know how to solve this problem.
Do you know that feeling where your chest tightens and you can’t breathe, can’t sleep, can’t even talk and you just sit there and cry because you’re tired of this?
The room is quiet but you can’t seem to focus because your mind is too loud, you cried but no one can hear you and you smile but no one see through you. When you’re outside all you want to be is your bed and when you’re in bed you can’t sleep because these whispers become louder than your own voice! And you are struggling to keep yourself together although you’re already broken apart and the only question left is are you worthy of saving? can you truly be saved by all these? As much as you want to believe you can, you know that you fall too deep to find help because you’re alone.
God dammit. I feel like the worlds biggest failure. Can’t even overdose on heroin properly. Got a half gram with my last 40 dollars and snorted like half of it over a day or so. Then when I finally worked up the courage or a case of the fuck it’s or whatever I of course didn’t get the needle like I knew I would need. Snorted the rest in a huge stupid ass line I was sure would work. Guess it’s going to take more than that. All I remember is snorting it. Laying down and then I was half blacking out stumbling around the house running into my useless unloving parents trying to say that I was just super dehydrated and shit. I don’t even remember laying back down but I do remember them checking my eyes and telling me to sit on a chair they put in the hallway and filling up a glass of water a couple times. Fucking woke up the next morning out of dope and still alive. Idk guess I gotta go pawn something or rob the dope man. Idk. Fucking ridiculous. Next time I’m getting like 2 grams and eating one and snorting the rest. Still gotta say fuck needles but then again maybe it’s worth it for that final euphoric buzz and to just make sure. I hate booze so I’m not mixing it. Got some Xanax and barbiturates. Just need the h. Clearly overdosing on h is harder than you would think and that was with like no opiate tolerance. Guess I’m too big for that. Least I get decent dope. It’s pretty raw and euphoric. That fentanyl shit you get west side of Chicago gives you the nods but not the euphoric buzz. I’m just sick of failed attempts. This is like the 3rd time Ive basically had overdose symptoms and haven’t died. I know why I keep failing. I don’t want to waste any dope. Couple days of erupic buzz to work up and then blow the last of it but I’m pinching penny. What do I care if I do 3x what I need to fucking die. I’ll be dead. Not like it’s going to waste. It’s a worthy cause. Here’s to magic number 4.. hehe number 4 heroin now there’s irony. Maybe that’s what was missing a truly ironic death.
I can’t sleep. Thoughts are swarming round my head. I keep swatting them away, but they keep coming back. It’s been like this for months now. The thoughts come at night. When all I want to do is sleep. But I’m always afraid. Every fucking hour of every damn day.
I just want to die. Finally drop dead and let the thoughts and anxieties drop dead with me. It doesn’t matter what anyone says. Life is not worth the pain I constantly feel.
If I can’t die, I at least want to sleep.
I hate this, I hate being alone and waking up and knowing this person doesn’t want me and that I’m such a fuckup and I can’t talk to anyone about how much I just want to be dead without them calling 911 on me, no one to watch over me it’s just taking so much for me right now just to not end it all because nobody fucking cares they all just want to ruin my future and put me in a hospital, they don’t make you better they just make you numb. I have to suppress all my fucking feelings so I don’t fucking break down and kill myself or get myself killed
I wish I was worth more so I didn’t have to feel any of this
I just prayed for my death tonight.
I did this a few times before. I won’t say I’m extremely religious, but I do believe someone is out there. It’s comforting sometimes. However, it wouldn’t bother me too much if I crossed to the other side and was just met with a blank emptiness. Honestly, the eternal quiet would be a good change of pace. So whether I’m proven wrong or right, as long as I get to rest in peace, that’s fine with me.
As for the reason I prayed for my death, let’s just say I’m terrified. I’ve been low key terrified for months now about the state of the world. Stuff like political unrest, climate change, and even just advancing in my own life: it all just scares the shit out of me. It didn’t used to. When I was a teenager I was depressed, but these issues just felt so far away. Now, they’ve made a home inside me. They’re living in my brain, leeching off me and disrupting my life. I live in constant fear and anxiety. I feel like the world is ending. And the worst part is, it’s ending slow. Like I’m tied to the train tracks, just watching the oncoming train get closer and closer. No escape. No hope.
So I prayed. I prayed that before the calamity hits, I’ll be killed. Not like an illness that will whittle me down slowly. Like a car that I only just realized was speeding towards me while crossing the road. Something quick like that. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to watch the panic in the streets. I don’t want to see the fear on my family’s faces. I just want to fade away before the tragedy strikes.
I can only hope God delivers.
Look at me from the outside and tell me, “she has nothing to be sad about, her life is great!” and I say, “step inside my mind for a day and tell me the same thing tomorrow” You cant.. because living in the turmoil, anxiety, depression, bi-polar, obsessive brain that is mine will make you be happy you live in your own head. I cant even remember the last time I felt genuine happiness, and its getting pretty frustrating to wake up and hurt all the time. I want nothing more than to feel okay, to not feel anguish or suicidal. Just for one stinking day..
Edit: I’m not sure if this was officially posted, it’s. Very confusing on how to submit.
Hello.I’m new here & I feel like I have no one to open up to which is why I’m here. Long read so if you can’t read my whole essay, just skip to the LAST PARAGRAPH below.
I’m 32 yrs old & have suffered from depression since I was a teenager. I find that living with depression is bearable when I have great things going on in my life.
As of these past couple of years, I have experienced a moderate amount of hardships. My mom became very sick, as a result, she’s currently in a nursing home. I have a strenuous full time in the medical field, get off work & visit my mom daily. When I go, I’m the one that’s physically taking care of her being as though that’s what I did when she was living at home & it just comes natural, especially when the aids leave her sitting there because they know I’m showing up to do her anyway.
I’m emotionally & physically drained. She relies on me everyday to visit, toilet & bring her food & I feel sooooooo overwhelmed.
6 months ago I met someone great, I thought the progressive relationship was going somewhere, until he dissapeared out of nowhere. He was the one I used to open up to & distract myself with fun things when I was at my wits end because he’s also a sometimes caregiver. I felt like he was the only positive thing in my life that I looked forward to, now I no longer have that.
Most men want sex from me & not a relationship. So, once they find out that I’m actually not having sex without a commitment of at least a gf title, they dissapear.
I also have a very toxic relative who’s always sharing his burdens with me, expecting me to fix his financial mistakes.
I have had a string of bad luck that’s making me be more of a pessimist. I’m not going to be optimistic because when you are, you set yourself up for harder dissapointment.
After being single for all my life, dating several men, & finally meeting someone I connected with, only to get ghosted/dumped was the final straw for me, & at this point it hurts to even breathe. Everyday is like groundhogs day.
I’ve always had suicidal tendencies, but they have been exasperated with the recent hardships.
I’ve thought about the portable generator in the backseat of a vehicle, what do you guys think about that?
That’s the method that young boy, Conrad Roy used,and he obviously succeeded.
I keep re-reading the articles detailing his death to pick up on things I can incorporate & succeed in my suicide, & the only thing that’s stopping me is spending 500 bucks on one only to not knowing how to operate the generator.
So, if you didn’t already know, you are now the third person that knows about this, I don’t like to tell people unless they are really close or I end up upsetting them therefore id tell them. Well last summer in 2018 I had the worst months of my life, there were 2 weeks where I decided not to eat at all and got taken to the hospital. I was in a state of mind where dying was the most important accomplishment for me. I’d lost the one person who made me stronger and who made me, me. I spent months on end crying and having these thoughts In my head. There were my ups and downs I admit, there were days where I cried from laughter but then there were days and nights where I cried from hate of myself and wanted to end everything. As soon as I started school I began to go to a counsellor after school which mum paid for and I would spill everything to her. Eventually she realised why I had these states of being happy and sad and it was me alternating from ‘manic and depressive episodes”. And to be fair I am still like it now if you haven’t noticed already. I used to post loads of paras on this website for suicide awareness about how I felt. It helped lot to let out my feelings but you know.
And after many weeks like this I told my bestest friends and literally couldn’t have asked for any better support or advice. I had a family of friends at skaters, ginger retard, binweeval, the seagull and the penguin. But then one by one they began to leave; the penguin was the only one who stayed and who supported me through everything and was literally my brother for 6 months. Then dorito came along and my life changed, I got controlled and loads more. Then I literally got used for my body by everyone; “gay boi” didn’t give two fucks about me, dorito wanted me to fuck him, even the penguin touched me up. The one person I had who I trusted my life with. After that I broke inside and lost everything. He was my human diary, my soul mate and when he did that it just broke me. The only messages I get were “fuck me” or “fit af” and I just wanted someone to love me for me not for my body. Or people taking advantage of me being able to help them with their problems or stop them from taking their lives. But on a day to day basis this happened. I couldn’t keep sending 4-page paragraphs, calls that lasts 12 hours, just to stop them and make them feel better. Because when I fell, no one was there for me. Not one single person.
Also, if you didn’t already know, I won’t eat for as long as I can when I’m sad, I will have constant thoughts that I’m ugly, I’m fat, I mean what can I say… I’ve been told it all before anyway so it’s true. I get told “why’d u look so depressed, oh wait you always are” I won’t go on social media for hours, I lock myself in my bathroom and literally cry four hours until my head fucking hurts, I’ve overdosed to make myself feel okay, I’ve become drunk just to get rid of all sad thoughts, I’ve cut to make myself feel better about the things I’ve fucked up in my life.
I am a 24 year old guy. This is for the first time I am writing something out of my heart so I will try my best to open up. Life has always been tough for me to be more specific it’s been one wrong decision after another. I was raped multiple times by by older cousins and others when I was a kid. I did not know what was happening, I was to young to understand or share my situation with anyone. As I grew older and realised I wanted to kill those people but I was too emotional and weak to do something like that. I fought through that feeling but it left me hurt for life. Teenage was brutal I was a introvert and was bullied all the time had a tough time making friends. I couldn’t talk to my parents abt what was happening because I always felt they won’t understand. Timed pass as I grew up, I found my refuge in art. I started acting and even started to do stand up as it helped me escape my pain and allowed to be someone else. But fate had something else in mind my parents didn’t allow me to persue acting and forced me to take up engineering. College was horrible I used to fail all the time and never felt interested. But I didn’t give up and tried hard to pass without failing a year. I managed to graduate with a low cgpa. It’s been 2 years and I have not been able to secure a job. Time is passing by and I am unable to support my family. The whole family and relatives expect me to do something great which just crushes me even more when I fail to do something. I have nothing to show for. My family won’t even let me be with the girl I love and I have to stay away from her and it kills me every day. I have been thinking about killing myself for the past few days. I have tried it in the past when I was a teen but failed twice. I am not strong enough to even kill myself. I don’t know what to do. Every day I am just being sucked deeper and deeper in this hole. I don’t think I have it in me anymore to face another rejection or another failure. I see no point in living and feel like a burden on everyone around. I don’t know how to escape this suffering.
I have two brothers who despise my father as well. He had always demeaned us since we were children(the oldest[aka kuya] is at least 37 and my other brother who lives with us is 24, I am 17 turning 18 in august). This is my last year of highschool and my father continued to tell me I would never graduate and amount to anything(to this day). He left beginning of Sophomore year and left my mom with no money when we were getting kicked out. I had talks with my mother while we were adjusting to our new life, and she admits that shes okay with divorcing him and that if it means we are happy she will do it. Fast forward to today he came back with no hesitation my mom invited him with open arms. I felt betrayed. I cried and told her we cant have him here.
One time, we had an argument(my father and I) he told me to “SHUT THE FUCK UP” and that I was ugly and I should literally just kill myself if I don’t love him like a true daughter should, this was all due to me telling him to wash the dishes because my mom and I wanted to walk our dogs. My mom said I was childish(even though he was in front of my face telling me to shut the fuck up with everything he said in front of her about me telling myself to kill myself). I should forgive my father and accept it. I was shocked, I thought she had my back. I told my brothers and they all agreed that we hated our father and even told her. She refused to listen.
He almost let our family dog(that i wasnt able to take care of for some reason back then) get run over, and I told him what to do if he wanders into the street when the gate is open. He told me to shut up, I don’t know anything(Even though our brother’s girlfriend is a to be dog trainer, and I am learning about becoming a dog trainer next to video game designer), and I should take care of my dogs. My mom again said, get over it.
Today, I told my mom we are dysfunctional and we have to give up our puppy, Lightning, to our cousins cus they don’t listen to what I say. She gave me an attitude and got angry when I said “dysfunctional family”. I told her we all hate our father because he was never there for us emotionally and when we needed him and only just put us down for everything(driving us all into a deep depression to this day, and sucidial thoughts and attempts). She said, “Its all in the past, get over it.” and, “Hes your father- learn to love him”. “The sacirfices we made for you!” That word. I hate it. You didn’t make sacirfices, you didn’t have to “have” us, and you didn’t do anything for us except put a roof over our head which parents should do. My mom fully put her own cheating husband on top of her own children. I am on the verge of tying a belt into a noose and hanging myself, but before that I want to see my boyfriend in August, let go of my dog, and write my notes before I do. I want to change this mind and make sure I can get through university(i was accepted into a university I wanted to go to since I was little). I love my boyfriend, my brothers, my dogs and my friends, but if it gets any worse here I might just end up in a ditch soon just because they don’t care, and soon my brothers might too if I do this.
To climb out of the wreckage of lies, deception and willful betrayal and duplicity. To perceive who someone really is under their ingenuous disguise of innocent princess playing the victim. Covert narcissism runs deep in a traumatized mind. I’ll burn the whole world down to achieve my success and realize my nocturnal dreams to reality. I’ll be damned if I let the insidious lies of a miserably trapped, cognitively dissonant, neurotically insipid, and untreated psychotic disassemble my life. The fire inside of me rages with flames of pride, dignity, and truth of self. The distinctive I. I, Ryze. And I know the Creator. My I is one with the I of the Creator guiding my life. The eternal flame feeding the infinite creativity intrinsic to my nature. I, comatose. Yet I, ryze despite the adversity, opposition and social control. The truth is a terrible thing and you hid too many secrets. My allegiance is to the eminent self, and the transcendent entity. Your allegiances speak for themselves in your poisonous actions, words, and doublespeak. Hidden behind your veil of delusions of grandeur, your grandiose ego and superficial machinations of a personality. Fuck you. I refuse to be held down. This is a declaration to MY future!
I am a suicidal survivor. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, though. You think that once you have finally made it past being suicidal and depressed that you’ll always feel better; there are no simple fixes to being mentally broken. It’s not a broken bone that will one day heal. Even though I do not actively want to die, i’ll hear a song, or watch a show that I watched or listened to when I was hurting and depressed and I will spiral down the rabbit hole once more. The emptiness still lingers, and I still have thoughts. When a person becomes that dark, that hurt, to want to die you never fully heal from it. Right now as I am typing this out in hopes someone out there will read this and relate to what I am saying, I feel that deep empty feeling like I don’t have anything inside of me. It hurts. In my head I acknowledge the fact that there are times I can be happy, but there’s something dragging, weighing on me. A heavy weight that’s impossible to fully get off. Yes, I hate life. I hate so many things about it. I hate feelings. I hate mental disabilities. I hate my chronic illnesses. I hate my Misophonia. I hate social anxiety, I hate loneliness. I hate responsibilities. I hate the fact that I still have so many years on this god forsaken earth. I hate how people treat other people, and animals. Life is not easy. It’s not simple. It’s not nice. Those who think the world is beautiful and amazing have never been through anything traumatic. They will never have a deep understanding of people, or emotions. Emotions are deep, they are all we have to create morals and our beliefs. People who suffer from suicidal thoughts, or depression, or anxiety, or any mental disability have a deeper understanding of life, of the world. We see through peoples fake smiles, and long sleeves during summer. We notice things other “normal” people wouldn’t. I am grateful for what I have been through because it has taught me so much about the world, the people who inhabit it, and the beautiful aspects, the ugly aspects, and the importance of how you act and the impact that has on others. We grow up, and mature too fast. We don’t have the luxury of being “carefree”. What we go through has changed us, and shape us into the people we become. You can dwell on your past or look toward the future. It’s damn hard to do so, though. There are still “triggers” and feelings of hopelessness, and depression. When you’re alone in the dark with all of your thoughts, we tend to think about everything. It’s scary to be alone, because you have nothing to distract you from your thoughts and feelings… It’s hard, no doubt. It hurts. I hated myself, still do sometimes. I’ll look in the mirror, or a reflection and shame myself for how I look, or who I am. Someone will get mad at me and yell about what an awful person I am, and I will want to die. Thinking about how easy it would be to kill myself, how much better off I, and everyone around me would be. Then I think about my mother, and my sister, and my brother, my grandmother, and the rest of my family who hasn’t disowned me or talked shit about me. If I leave, my dog will grieve himself to death, and have no one to look after him and his brother from another species, Lucifurr. My grandmother will become very depressed. My sister would have nobody besides my mother, who is dying of emphysema. My brother will lose his little sister, and my niece will have nobody to look after her, and hold her when she cries, or love her unconditionally like I do. My niece will never remember who I am as she’s only nine months old. She’ll never know how many times she’s slept in my room, how many times she’s fallen asleep holding onto me, how many laughs i’ve made her laugh. How many times she’s been angry with me. She’s the one i’m living for. I’m looking forward to scaring her first boyfriend, because she’s so pretty with her little dimples and a smile that lights up the room. I’ll never get to cry as she goes to kindergarten. Or watch as she takes her diploma, and lives the best life she can. I’ll never be able to comfort her after a breakup, or force her to listen to my favorite bands. I’ll never get to see her grow up. I’ll never watch my sister give me a niece, or nephew. I wouldn’t get to see my sister be happy, for once. I don’t live an apple pie, white picked fence kind of life. My mother hates the person I’ve become, smoking weed, cigarettes, and drinking just to cope with life at almost seventeen years old. I don’t have a job because I don’t have the money to get my birth certificate for an ID. I watched my father die in front of me as the ambulance rolled him into the back of the truck, after they hauled him off of a roof, as he owned a roofing company. I was nine years old. I am watching my bedridden mother slowly die of COPD and Emphysema. You know that feeling when you can feel your heart breaking and the air in your throat getting thicker. When you can feel how hurt you are. It’s the worst feeling in the world to be trapped inside your own head. Knowing your intentions are so pure, but yet nobody understands. I feel it coming on now, the tears. The pain. So no, the pain, the thoughts, the never fully go away. You’re allowed a mental breakdown every once in a while. You deserve it. You are not the people others’ say you are. You are beautiful and are filled with an unbearable weight, for that i am deeply sorry. I understand how it feels to be lonely, and hurt. The pain that doesn’t go away. Even after you heal, it still knocks. It knocks at your weakest moments, dragging you into darkness, the darkness of your mind is the loneliest, and most horrific feelings of all time. Yes, physical pain hurts but it heals. You don’t feel the pain anymore after a while. Mental pain never goes away and it never heals, we just find better coping strategies. We hope we don’t break everything we touch, we distance ourselves from other people. We hurt in silence. I hate going to bed wondering if everything will ever be okay. I’m sorry, guys. I really am. If anyone even reads this, and needs to talk, private message me on instagram Fuck_the_world_11_27_18