always get out of the hole to get sucked right back in. i mean nothing to anyone and im lying to myself if i think anyone will give a fuck when im dead.
A couple of years ago I had many attempts of suicide, since then I’ve been trying to get help. Everything gets in the way, stopping me from helping myself. I try and find reasons to start over new or someone for that matter. Now I feel numb and without a single care.
In our household music is everything. I push myself every night to add more and more hours onto my piano practice, until my hands cramp and I can’t play any longer. I sometimes get really angry where I pull at my hair and make my skin bleed, usually screaming my head off, there is no control when this happens. I feel my body get red and boiling rage just sets me off, usually when something like this happens its pent up anger from continued fights with loved ones or non stop drama.
My mum found my old ropes in the hardest to reach place of my closet, who knows the reason for her to be there. That day was filled with many different attempts. The rope had been ready. I had doubts that it would work, the rope was already too thin making it possible to snap from above me. Although I had my other ways. This day had been planned out for months, thinking about it everyday, let me have some sort of relief, knowing that nothing really matters anyway if I’m going to kill myself, so why should I commit to plans and goals? No one is home. I live close to the shops, so I walked down with minimal change in my pocket. I entered the news agency purchasing rubber bands. I and ropes from somewhere else. I can just picture the look on my face when going up to the counter, I wonder if the man had any clue at all. That day was scorching hot, the walk back seemed more tiring then going down. I had my blades, ropes, bag, rubber bands. I guess you’re probably wondering why I didn’t just take pills. I’ve thought this through many times and always come to the same conclusion. My mum takes very strong pills for her, which I wont name. I knew that would be too easy. The amount of times I thought of downing those pills are insane. I love my mum so much and wouldn’t want her to get caught in any trouble for my actions, she would think “if only I hid those pills”. The bag was my last option. This was my first attempt, I had no idea what I was doing, I just wanted to die at that very minute. I self harm, and when I don’t self harm, I think about it. I search numerous articles while sitting on the toilet, pressing bloody tissue to my already scarred skin. I have never cried or flinched really from the pain. I get frustrated for having to hold the tissue, until the bleeding stops. As you’ve probably guessed I’m quite impatient.
I have a scar from that day, the inside of my wrist where you can hear your heartbeat. I used to be able to see the reflection of my own skin, and just stare. Sometimes I get ashamed of my skin or even disgusted. I dreamt of having a future sometimes, but other times I thought that it wasn’t even an option.
I hear the door slam, and I feel all the colour from my face sinks. I’m in my bathroom with bloody tissues that covered the floor. Mum comes in my room and calls out to me. I do my best to cover the scene. One arm foolishly behind me.
I had an interesting childhood… I bet if I told you some of it you wouldn’t believe me. To this day I’m suicidal everyday, but always finding a reason to not go through with it. I have used pills before, but not the kind you’re thinking (Paracetamol). That was the worst throwing up experience I have ever had. Taking 12/13 at once was bound to not stay down. Failing miserably again.
Chronic PainFamily & Friends EffectsGeneralI Will SurviveMy Suicide NotePoetry & ArtRantsStories of HopeStories of LossSuicidal Survivors
Some people are lucky; Some people are not.
The more you learn about this world and society, the more you will realize that Life is random (chances), and yes, Life is not fair. Reality is depressing.
Most people who still always keep saying that “if you work hard, you will be successful!” are naive, ignorant, and simple-minded typical “optimistic/positive/happy-go-lucky” people you always see everywhere. And even for those people who realized it and therefore said that what’s important is to “work smart”, it also usually often means to be sly, cunning, opportunistic bastards who are too often selfish, pricks, ruthless, cold, heartless, and only care about certain shallow things like money, profits, power, position. And sadly often for the vain reasons.
There are often far too many challenges, obstacles, and also bad people who lurk just around the dark corners to eat you up, use you, trick you, manipulate you, etc etc you just name it. That’s why usually the truly good people, and the genuinely smart, wise, and idealistic, visionary type of people who have truly great and noble ideas for the progress of the world are often crushed, and losing out to the selfish, vain bastards and pricks of the world and society that I’ve just mentioned above. No wonder there are many stressful, sad, depressed, and suicidal people all around the world/planet.
This world is a shithole. Humanity is sadly not that great. Life is often disappointing. Society is sick. Existence is (mostly) just a meaningless, stupid, and pointless pain and sufferings until you die.
Ive been on this site a while reading everyone else’s thoughts, I would have said so much to all of you but I didn’t want to register.
I’ve been struggling with thoughts of suicide since I was 14, I am now about to turn 30 so it’s been more than half my life. I attempted at 16, as much as one can attempt to shoot oneself without pulling the trigger before getting caught. The good news is that the past 7 years were an easy fight, I felt purposeful and had a job I loved, but now that job feels like a cage and I have no direction in life and no motivation to try and find one.
I wrote my notes to my family and friends and I have what I need to end my pain, it feels just like pulling that trigger did 14 years ago and I’m struggling to find the courage to go through with it. Whomever said suicide is cowardly or easy was wrong. It is more difficult to leave everyone and everything than most can imagine.
I don’t want to keep going through this life, fighting to stay in my own mind and body. I’m trying to find the courage to leave but so far no luck.
I’m pretty sure I’m crazy, my inner voice is too loud, I can’t think or focus, and I have an endless sinking in my belly. I am also diagnosed with BPD and it is very confusing to be mostly feeling good one minute and want to die more than ever the next minute. I don’t know how to handle that.
I just told my two closest friends since I decided I couldn’t go through with it and needed help, while both were concerned I don’t think it helped me and now I just get the kicked puppy look if I’m not acting happy.
Yes I want help but I’m not sure what that looks like. I worry less about the cutting and more about the suicidal thoughts. I had the when, where, how, and I wrote my notes and everything but at the set time I just kept going because I can’t actually do it. I’m scared of failing, scared of succeeding and regretting it when it’s too late, I’m scared of getting help and I don’t want to keep going. Seriously, the cutting doesn’t even scratch the surface of my crazy right now. (Get it, ha ha)
And yes, serious conversations make me uncomfortable and so I usually make light of them and blow shit off and then regret it but I can’t help that. I’m afraid to go to a therapist or counselor because I don’t want to be put in the psych ward again on suicide watch (went there at 16). And what’s the point if you can be honest with them about your feelings?
I’m losing hope of getting over this and running out of ideas.
Once again I’m here to read ppl’s agony. It grounds me whenever I have suicidal thoughts. It’s tragic to know that people are there for you but eventually they’ll get tired of your shit and toxcitity then leave you knowing that it would make you misery. Makes me want to kill myself more. I know that I don’t have to depend on people and get their validation but it’s hard not to when you rlly love those ppl around you. I feel like a burden. Always have been. I blame myself for everything and for the existence I found no purpose and not thankful for. I wish I could give my span of life to someone in need or more deserving. It’s my 4th year of depression and can’t seem to imagine that this cycle would continue for far more years to come. Bullshit. I hope that the world would end soon so I wouldn’t have to kill myself as soon as possible. I hate pain. I was okay. But relapse is real.
Its been nearly two years since my last post and I’m in the process of therapy but its not helping me out the way I expected. Until 7 months ago I was physically and mentally abused for over 11 years and it has left it’s scares. I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD and depression and I’ve learned to accept it. But the reason for my return is that I was about to attempt to kill myself again, but I used a technique I learned in therapy to stop my attempt. I thought of the last few attempts and I started crying, something that I never do as I’ve gotten used to pretending to look happy. I thought of this site and how people always helped me out and motivated me to stand up tall and continue with my life and today is one of those days. Consider this my cry for help.
I’m fading away more and more everyday and I’m struggling. Trying to find the right words to explain it is complicated. I’m under quarantine and I hate it. But all I do is sleep and draw. I rarely eat anymore because when I leave my room I get targeted by my brother to be his throwing doll. As I hope that every breath will be my last I know that the angle of death won’t come and sent me free because it’s not my time.
But it’s kinda hard to not want that feeling of freedom. I’m alone. Alone with the thoughts that keep me captive to my own bed. I just lay here helpless knowing that whatever I do or say won’t be enough. Because I’m not enough. My girlfriend tries to remind me that she’s here with me but like I always say “You’re not the cause of these demons in my head, therefor you shouldn’t have to take on the responsibility of helping me conquer them.” She smiles and says she loves me but it’s only a matter of time before she see’s how clingy and problematic I am. Its been 1 month and she hasn’t given up on me. I fade away with every fake smile and “I’m Fine” Because of my past there are things that I can’t let go of. I have scars from when I was 5 yrs old and wanting to already end my life. It’s not worth losing yourself and personality worth. But it’s a struggle to keep my head up.
Sorry for my last post. Came off a a bit overdramatic. I tend to do that when I get stressed out.
To be honest, I don’t even have a way to kill myself right now. I was hoping we had some rope in the basement, bu5 a search turned up nothing. And now more than ever I won’t be able to sneak out and by some. Hell, I don’t even know if hardware stores are closed nowadays. The only reason I can think of for them to be open would be so people can buy flashlights or things to help with emergence repairs. I supposed I could order some on Amazon, but that would risk my parents getting to the package first. I’ve tried to kill myself before. Learning I ordered some sturdy rope would instantly tip them off that something is wrong.
Honestly, part of me feels bad about just dying like that. It’s not just the fact that I’d be leave broken home in my wake. It’s the fact that when I look at myself in the mirror, I just have to ask, “Do I deserve it?” Not do I deserve to die, because that would get a resounding no from most people. But do I deserve the pain to stop? Of course, I don’t have it nearly as bad as other people. I come from a loving family, I’ve always been relatively healthy, and I’ve never had anything truly traumatic happen to me. But in a way, that’s the problem.
See, I always come back to this thought process. Every single fucking time. “Why do I have these things?” Why are other people suffering when I’m not? There are probably billions of people who are ten times better than me, and yet I’ve been given a happy life and they haven’t! Why the fuck is that?! I just need to know what I did. I just need to know what I did to deserve this! What benevolent actions did I do in a past life or whatever that caused me to have all this! Because as of right now, believing all this was just the luck of the draw is what’s truly making me hate myself.
In a way, I reacted to these uncertainties by taking things into my own hands. To find some way to bring sadness into my life. To “make things fair” in a sense. If the world’s not gonna do it, it might as well be me, right? Cutting, burning, bruising: self harm is just one of the ways I get rid of this “survivors guilt”. One night I cut myself so far down I could see muscle. Light pink and white muscle. Instead of being nervous that I’d cut so deep, I was almost excited. Overjoyed. I paced around the kitchen waiting for the blood to start to seep out, humming the tune to Silent Night. In fucking March.
It’s not just physical pain either. I also neglect my physical needs and pretty much verbally abuse myself on a day to day basis. I’ve called myself things I would never to say to another human being. I wouldn’t speak to my dog like this! It hurts to be called these things, even if I’m the one doing it. But at the same time I just get so much joy and satisfaction in hurting myself. It’s cathartic. Almost like I’m hurting someone who deserves it. Like I’m getting revenge on someone who’s committed a horrible crime, but the only crime I’ve really committed was being alive! I don’t want to stop, but I know it’s killing me. I cry sometimes. Sometimes the things I say to myself really sting. I’ll bring up my past mistakes, bring out my faults, taunt myself over things I can’t control. I have a full on panic attack sometimes over how much stuff I drudge up from my past. But I know that there’s a part of me that’s just eating it up! Laughing at me as I’m fucking hyperventilating. It’s like I’m an abuser and a victim all rolled into one fucked-up package.
I want to stop, but then again, I don’t! It feels good and fucking horrible all at the same time. Part of me relishes in seeing me suffer and the other part is in agony. I’m in a loop. A goddamn, mindfuck mental loop! I don’t know how to get out of this. I don’t even know if I can or even want to! I’ve tried to explain it to my parents, but I don’t think they fully understand. I’ve always been shit at explaining my feelings. Blame it on the fucking Aspergers.
So, yeah. Just needed to get this off my chest. You know, without someone telling me I’m being irrational or overdramatic. Even though I probably am. I’m probably going to be post more often on here considering I’ll be hauled up in my house for the foreseeable future. Stay safe everyone.
It’s now an everyday struggle to get out of bed knowing that nothing out of my room is worth getting up for. I want to lose weight so i begin to starve. I don’t get out of bed anyways and so thats being to help me. I hate the fact that I’m on 20 different pills for the same fucking thing. I want to be in the arms of someone who is willing to listen to me and not tell me that “I’ll be fine” because I won’t. I want to kill myself and I don’t want to get out of my bed not because I’m “Lazy” but because I physically can’t move. Why is my mind racing 24/7 when I have nothing to be thinking about besides don’t getting out of bed. I can’t keep struggling with my so called “Family” and what I mean by that is a mother who is clearly dying. A dad that is in a wheelchair and can’t walk. Also dying. A sister who doesn’t talk to you. And a druggie brother. What an amazing home to live in right? So yeah I don’t get out of bed because whats the point. I’m going to end up crying and hiding in my room. Music helps drowned out the sounds of me crying at night. Whats that on your wrist. Oh I have a really mean “Cat.” I’m fine, I’m just tired. I’m going to lay down and stay in bed because I can’t move because my depression has me tied in ropes to that bed.
Long rant(?) ahead. I don’t think I’m gonna make sense anyway. You might want to argue with my thoughts in the replies too but please don’t. I just need to say the terrible stuffs I am gonna say. To get it off my chest.
1. I’m just a bad person. My depression sometimes take away my love for my partner and I couldn’t tell him that sometimes I don’t feel like I love him that much so I would lie to not hurt him. Knowing that, I need him to be around so I’m keeping him. But sometimes it feels selfish. I’ll never be that One True Love material for him. Sometimes I don’t tell him the most truths to not start a fight with so I’m just hiding. Hiding parts of myself. Hiding my thoughts that he might find disagreeable with. I’m just the worst and he don’t even know that. No matter how hard I try to be better, it will never be good enough for myself. So I’ll never even feel better anyways. I don’t know why I try. I don’t deserve this guy. There’s definitely better women out there that would fit his criteria. I just don’t and might fuck up things again like I did. And hurt him. I keep telling him there’s better people but .. he won’t have it. I don’t know why it’s me that he wants.
2. My heart is so rotten that it hurts seeing people being happy. I can’t see rich people enjoying life, partying, being pretty, travelling places, having privilege I don’t. There was a time when I can’t even stand seeing my friends being happy with their partners because it hurts my insides. Because I’m a rotten person that I’m allergic to displays of a good life. Because mine is in shatters, probably. In my best efforts, I mute these people on social media so I don’t have to see them, so I have no chance to harass them. But it still feels terrible that I feel like that in the first place. And for not trying or wanting to fix myself and want to continue being a loser, I’m just a suck-ish person.
3. I have selective empathy. If you’re rich, privileged, could afford healthcare, could afford expensive drinks and partying every weekend, doing drugs or what else, I don’t feel sorry for you having bad mental health regardless of whether it was initiated by the substance you took or your childhood. I just can’t. I try but.. I don’t.. ah. If you could get help, go the fuck there. It doesn’t help that some of you rich fucks are that entitled to people calling your father’s names with honorary titles “cause he worked hard for it.” No. Nope. It flew out the fucking window. Empathy non-existent. But yeah, because I wouldn’t want to be harassing you, you’re muted from my social media too. Because my immature ass just cannot.
4. I just feel so guilty to live sometimes. To be existing and contributing nothing. Just taking what people give. Maybe giving back even less. I’m wasting resources as I speak. Someone needs this body more than me. Someone else would kill to have my body, my face, my organs maybe. Take it. I don’t want it. I don’t want to live. I don’t deserve this life. There is nothing I did to earn it. And what’s worse is if I’m rich I might’ve been someone I myself loathe. That is the whole problem. No matter what I am, I loathe myself. I’ll never ever be good enough anyways. To anyone. To myself. Even my friends are annoyed with me. They just didn’t say it to my face. I feel sorry they even get to know me. Like yeah. I’m a terrible friend. I will inevitably hurt you. I don’t know any friend I had that wasn’t hurt by what I said. Fuck I don’t deserve you. And I don’t deserve to exist.
5. I still think about my stupid exes. Like if I could, choose between death or thinking about my exes, I would choose the former. I don’t get why am I so fucking dumb. My ex were assholes. Like yeah there were good parts about them. BUT THEY WERE ASSHOLES. One wanted me as a babymaker while he goes off to the other end of the world to work. Wanted me to suffer taking care of our 3 children alone having seen this stuff happen to his own mum. He saw his mum struggled and dude wanted me to lead the same life she did. And the one my mum did that made her gave birth to me and sometimes resent or regret her own fucking children. I have mental illness and my mum was abusive like yes, ideally I would make a great mum but in reality I just fucking can’t. I’m a terrible person. I might end up abusing my children too. I’d rather not have that chance. And not have kids.
6. This ex. I loved her (maybe because I’m so angry at her now, I didn’t really BUT I DON’T FUCKING KNOW. I DON’T KNOW MY OWN EMOTIONS OR FEELINGS BUT GOD I can’t wish her happiness) she treated me like trash. I would’ve listed all the ways she done me wrong and to be fair she could do the same. Maybe I wasn’t the greatest lover too. But it sucks to be used. Being called a “victim” even jokingly. I was your girlfriend. And you wanted to replace me so easily. Not even before we broke up. Which you can’t even do. You can’t call us off CAUSE YOU’RE A DUMBASS *****. After ghosting me, making me worry about you living or being dead with your suicidality. Openly admitting on your ig post that you use me as an “accessory, to feel warm with when deep down I feel nothing”. That I thought it’s okay that you use me to feel better. Like it’s not enough that my self worth you don’t honour. I think you lied when you say you love me. And made me believe it. You made me fucking believe that you loved me. And what’s worse about this all is that I want the toxicity to happen again with my current relationship. I just want a confirmation that I’m no good at this stuff because I can’t get over the fact that I tried to save us. And it was for nothing. You said you want to pass me to my partner like I’m a fucking baton. Like I’m not human. I was just a thing to you. I just. I don’t know how to forgive or wish you happiness. I don’t find it in my heart to. Sometimes I hear your voice and your laughter in the back of my head. And it makes me want to die. Are you happy that you fucked me up? Is this what you want?
It would be good to die and not have to deal with all these conflicting thoughts in my head. I cant do life. I deserve death.
I’m angry with my mother because I recently discovered that she violated my privacy very badly, which she had no right to do. I’ve been on the fence about confronting her for days now, but I just haven’t gained the courage to do so. I thought today was gonna be the day, but when I had the chance I froze up and was filled with anxiety, so I stayed silent. I don’t know if I could handle the tension of living here after confronting her because the soonest I could possibly move out is several months away. I’m frustrated with myself because I want her to know exactly how I feel and that what she did wasn’t okay.
I just want to know to compare with my own perspective, have you passed through a traumatic event to it to begin? or did it just crawl little by little on your mind? did you feel like this when you were a child?
Just to make me clear, i don’t want you to feel bad about this, if you don’t feel secure to talk about it, please don’t.
For me, it begun when i was really little, about 5 to 6 years old. I remember just looking at the sky and wanting to disappear, i didn’t have the concept of death, I just had the urge to… leave. After I had the concept of death that everything just made sense on my mind, and it wasn’t any traumatic event, it just begun, slowly, and it was there, and since then everything is grey.
I was too optimistic in thinking I wouldn’t need this site again.
Spring break is finally starting and since my college is getting quarantined and moving online, I’ll get to work from home and break has been extended by a week. I would be looking forward to that, but there’s something I need to take care of first before I can even think about going home or the next quarter and it’s way worse than most of what I’ve had to deal with before.
I ended up with a failing grade for at least one of my three classes so far, and one of the others isn’t looking good either. It’s not even that I did poorly on any assignments, but that I didn’t have time to turn in some of my final projects. I have an accommodation for extra time when turning things in, but the teacher for the class I failed didn’t extend that past the quarter’s end. I could’ve easily bumped the percentage back up to at least a C, but I apparently missed the deadline that other teachers were willing to extend.
I wouldn’t even care so much if I didn’t have to tell my parents. I’m not the only person I know here who’s failed courses this quarter and I’m sure I’ll be able to recover from it given time, but my executive dysfunction and I are really the only ones at fault for my performance. My parents have never reacted violently or anything when I’ve done wrong by them, but I’m only a freshman in a cutthroat art school where my parents were already afraid I wouldn’t survive and not only does it shatter my heart to disappoint them but I don’t know at what point my scholarship money will be invalidated for a low GPA. This school already costs a lot and my dad’s at retirement age but if my failures end up forcing him into doing more work that I know he hates I really will kill myself. My classes for this quarter already had me stressed and overworked to the point where I was barely eating or sleeping (despite first quarter actually being really nice) and this might just be my breaking point. My classes next quarter are ones I’m actually really interested in and there are no doubts in my mind that I will do much better, especially without having to deal with an 8am Chinese class, but I don’t even know if I’ll make it there. Shit, besides the friends I have who’ve failed classes, I still have other friends here who are able to keep their grades up, maintain a social life, get sleep, drink and hotbox in the campus’s abandoned buildings, etc. while I’m one of the few clean and consistently sober people here I know and somehow I’m doing worse by shutting myself in my dorm and working nonstop. I don’t even dislike the work, and I love being alone, but why am I doing worse?? Why am I so unbelievably stupid????
Why have my parents always been so kind to a failure like me? When will they stop?
I want to stay in this school. I really do. I also really want to deserve it. I don’t want to scrape by on pity. I don’t know what the hell I can do.
I’ve been here since then. Reading your life. Yes. You people. But I think it’s my turn.
We’re here because we’re all sad. Reality.
Here’s a start. I’m diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. For years now. I discovered this website while I was searching for ways how to die or commit suicide then there it is. Pooof. I was not alone. In fact some are worse than my thoughts. But hell, we all have our own kinds of worst. Still I’ve done things I do not regret and wished it succeeded.
I’m sad. Always been sad. You already know guys how it feels. To be depressed. It just sucks and unfair. But it’s the only thing that makes my life colorful. I think without my depression my life would be nothing. I don’t know. I just love my depression now. It feels like it’s not me if I wouldn’t be depressed. But fuck it, it kills me everyday and makes me wanna die but I don’t want it to leave but I want the pain to stop. I don’t know. Am I too fucked up?
It’s been a while since I’ve been on this website and I guess that’s a good thing. To be honest I remembered that I had posts on this site while procrastinating my math hw and decided to come back on and read all of them . It was difficult, I’m not gonna lie. Some of the things I still agree with, but I also realized that I really was an angsty preteen who couldn’t handle her hormones.
So if you’re ready to sit down and listen to a young girl’s soul-searching journey then please keep on reading.
- In my past posts I always talked about my mom as an antagonist. She blamed my dad for everything without realizing her own faults. She picked out flaws on purpose. But I never cared enough to understand her own perspective. After meeting my dad only once and marrying him, she was brought to America with promises of a picket fence house and a new life, but instead got hate and negativity. She was the youngest of the family and the apple of my grandpa’s eye so she had never worked a day in her life, but now she had to work from dusk til dawn even while pregnant because my dad’s parents couldn’t get by on my dad’s salary alone. It was the typical evil, asian in-laws you would see in a Korean drama. She didn’t know anyone; she didn’t know any English. She was alone and had to stay with the man who she despised. I’ve cried a lot thinking about my mom.
- My dad is a strange man. He’s never matured. I don’t know if that’s because he was brought to America young and never got to live out his youth properly before his older siblings basically ruined his credit and stole his house. He can’t hold a conversation even for important things like filing taxes with my mom or even look at her so he just stares at his computer and ignores her when she comes into his room. He impulsively buys things for himself. He told me he has depression. I don’t know how to help him. I knew how he felt, but no words would come out of my mouth even long after he left my room back to his. I’ve cried a lot thinking about my dad.
- High school was rough, tough stuff. BUT not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. If you happen to stumble across my old post from the summer before 9th grade, it’s full of anxiety and bad vibes, but I want to let my old self know that she’ll get through it. I’m a senior now, and I’m not proud of my high school self, but I can accept her. I realized by junior year that everyone is going through the same things. No one has their life together and in fact, no one knows where their life is headed. BECAUSE WE’RE HIGH SCHOOLERS. I’ve made so many mistakes, I’ve shed so many tears, I’ve made and lost friends, but hey, I’m graduating in 3 months.
- I’ve finally found my group of friends during my senior year. I met 2 of them in freshman year, 1 in junior year, and the remaining 3 in senior year. Before I had stuck with my friends from elementary school, but I can proudly say that they are my best friends. I can talk about anything with them. I can do anything with them. When they’re sad I’m sad. When I’m sad, they talk to me and listen to me. I’m so thankful that I found them before I graduated. Even though I wish we all could’ve met earlier, who knows if we would’ve even been friends back then. And even so, I’ve made irreplaceable memories with them and that’s all that matters.
- Speaking of best friends, I think I found my platonic soulmate. She’s great. She’s everything I would want in a friend. Never have I clicked so fast with a person. Never have I spoken my entire life story and cried about my family to them. Never have I had someone do the same back within seconds. I’m so thankful for her. Sometimes I’ll admit, I get anxious that it won’t last; that she doesn’t feel the same. I’m too scared to tell her right now, but I’ll muster the courage. I know deep in my heart that she does, but sometimes my thoughts drown out my reasoning. I love her. I cherish her. My platonic soulmate.
- I’m comfortable with myself. I think before I was forcing myself into a box of ideals. Laugh like this. Act like this. Dress like this. Life’s so much more fun when you don’t care and do whatever you want. I cut my hair and dye it so many times. I buy old clothes from the thrift shop or a nice piece from the mall. Let me paint my nails 10 different colors and wear ruffly socks. It’s so much fun. It was a long journey. But having great people and a good book really helped me. Seriously, Call Me By Your Name is such a great book. The way Andre Aciman wrote about love and how it’s weird and heart-consuming. How love makes you want to be more like the other person and it doesn’t have to be necessarily romantic at first although it may turn out to be. After reading that book, I cried for 3 hours and didn’t talk to anyone over winter break because I needed to process my own thoughts. After reading that book, I sent messages to all my friends who made an impact in my life to show them how I’ll never forget them. My life is full of love and joy because now I’m at a point where I can confidently ask for it and give it.
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life right now. I still have sad days (which is why I came back and read all my old posts today) and I’m not quite there to achieve ULTIMATE CONTENTNESS haha, but I’m getting there. I finally know what people mean when high school is one of the greatest times of your life and I love my friends. It’s scary to know where I’m gonna end up next, especially since college decisions come out this month, but life’s going and I’m going with it. Life’s a b****, but I’m the alpha in charge. I will choose my own destiny and create good vibes for myself. Thanks and peace out!
Ever have these (VERY) rare days, where you’re actually all cheerful and think, today is gonna be a good day? Well, fuck that.
These days seem to always go wrong for me and people never believe me, when I tell them, that being positive just fucks up my life even more…
This day was unbearably chaotic and it’s not even lunchtime. I tried smiling and being social and brave but each step that went wrong, my smile just grew weary. I don’t know where to even put that negativity that brushed over this little happy day. I don’t know how to feel..
Mad, that my happiness got stolen?
Sad, because I can’t even do one thing right?
Or worried, that this sets me back way worse, than any regular day?
But I feel like I’m not realising the extend of that bullshit yet. Like my body was providing me with adrenaline, to deal with all that. It’s a really weird day and I want to laugh, until my insides hurt. But at the same time I want to punch a hole into a tree and scream my lungs out.
All the other days go by, with me burying it deep down. But today? Today is the day, it wants to bounce around, being noticed. I may not have any other conversation today, otherwise I might go crazy on them. And the amount of times that this happened isn’t even funny anymore.
I feel way too much and usually forget, that people can’t measure up to that extend. Even my happiness seems to irritate them. Then why even try pursuing that? Why be happy?
Thrice, now, I’ve tied a knot and tried to use it to end things, and thrice, its never pulled tight enough. I don’t understand why my body is so durable, when it should be frail and weak. I have no doubts about wanting to die, so its not a lack of conviction that stops me, but either a lack of energy, or a lack of knowledge. I want to know how to get rid of myself once and for all- a painless way that inflicts minimal trauma on others. A suicide that affects no-one is impossible, but I can try.
I’ve been thinking about suicide for years, but I wouldn’t have called myself suicidal until November 15th, 2019. That was when I realised that I would never be enough for you, or anyone else. The only silver lining I ever received was fleeting, and each day is now a new lifetime low for my self-esteem. I wish I hadn’t been so hopeful. Hopeful that you would change your mind, or that something spontaneous would happen. Had I not been, maybe I would have had more practice, and finally finished things.
I was inspired when I noticed a post here yesterday, mentioning that their suicide note wouldn’t contain what they really wanted to say. Maybe I’ll say what I want to here. Maybe I won’t have the guts to blame anyone else for my feeling this way, even anonymously- or maybe it’s just that I do believe everything that happened is my fault.
Bourbon, you’re an asshole. Probably the only one I blame at all. Like seriously I think you exclusively could have driven me to this.
Phi, I wish I never knew you. I wish you never made me fall for you. I wish I never asked you out. I wish I never opened that box that showed me what life could be like. I wish I had remained a hermit. I wish I could trust you when you said that it wasn’t my fault that you broke up with me. I wish that I didn’t join the dots so soon. I wish it really wasn’t my fault. Because it was. The only reason you gave that wasn’t invalidated by dating him was me. I wasn’t enough for you. I was too much for you. He was just right.
For everyone else in that group, I wish one of you had said something back then, when it could have done something. I wish anyone had cared enough to ask me if I was ok. I wasn’t, and I’m not now, but words don’t really mean anything anymore. Even when I type this I feel as if I’m on autopilot, and sometimes that’s how it feels when people try to tell me things will get better. They haven’t, bar once, so why should
Silver lining, you made me feel wanted when I felt that no-one could love me. You seemed perfect for me. No-one else had ever accepted me with my flaws, and I finally felt like with you I had a place in the world. For whatever reason, the world didn’t agree. Your life got better, I’m sure, but better at the cost of mine. I hope you don’t blame yourself though. It’s not your fault, and you deserve a good life.
I’m not willing to carry on through this though. Not for you, not for anyone else I mentioned, nor anyone I didn’t. If I was able to kill myself properly, I’d already be dead by now. I lament the possibility that I won’t actually get to see how long it would take for people to get over me, but it’s fine. Stopping the suffering is more important to me now. A long time ago I would have apologised, but I don’t think that’s appropriate anymore. This is what I want to do, and I can’t apologise for that. Hopefully I can just die, and not have to deal with these feelings again.
It never ceases to amaze me how you say that you love me and then go around and make me cry on the daily. It’s not like I don’t know that you love me you just have a funny way of showing it. Dad it hurts me a lot to everyday have to come home and get screamed at for the stupidest shit ever. I try and try to be a good daughter and have hope that maybe one day everything will get better but it’s honestly so hard. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever put you though. I love you but sometimes it feels like I’m suffocating. Screaming for your help but somehow you’re deaf to it. So I cry at night and yet still you not caring. You put me though so much pain and you want to help my depression! But you’re not helping your just making it worse. I want you to love me! Not hurt me. Help me! Not yell at me. I’m fading away. I’m in pain. Listen to me. Please. I’m dying.
January 5th, 2007, a bright little girl was brought into this world. With her “Happy mother” and “Health Father”. 13 years ago she was happy.
12 years ago her dad became an alcoholic and sick
11 years ago her grandma got cancer
10 years ago her grandma died
9 years ago her brother killed himself
8 years ago she was being bullied
7 years ago her sister tried to commit suicide
6 years ago her dad almost died
5 years ago she was raped
4 years ago her family broke apart
3 years ago she started to cut
2 years ago she tried to kill herself
1 year ago her family lost themselves
Today she’s in the hospital almost dead for an overdose
tuesday, february 18th 2020. 4:25pm.
i know nobody chooses to be this way, nobody wants to be this way. i certainly don’t. but i can’t help it, i’m in this never-ending hole of depression. i’ve been to the hospital, i’ve been to therapy. i thought everything would be okay once i got into therapy. some days start off okay, just me dreading to open my eyes and wake up. but something small happens and i start overthinking about it and it just — ends up me wanting to relapse. i don’t have anybody i trust to talk to about this. i’m alone.