when does it get better?
I’ve been waiting for it to get better and I truly do hope things get better for myself and everyone around me, but seriously I’ve been waiting and waiting around for life to get better… so when does it?
when will people stop leaving?
I know people come and go but all these people seem to do is leave… they’re all like tourists. they’ll stay for a week or so, love it, hate it, and then leave it. leave me.
where can I go to be okay?
why does it seem like everywhere I go, it always seems like I’m a burden? I’m sorry…
when will things finally end?
too much noise…
when will things be quiet?
they say it gets better… but does it?
Day by day it is getting worse. And I mean it. I don’t have anywhere to go, escape, relieve. I am all alone in family, crowd and this world. I know this sounds cliche, but it’s the objective truth.
I really do not want to cease my existence, but I have no more options, the pain is unbearable. Bottling it up drives me crazy. I am screaming internally in my heart, no one hears.
I know this is vague but I needed to vent a little bit..
At my sister’s 11th birthday party, she invited all of her friends to this place where you could bake a cake with fancy equipment. And she is an outgoing person, so there were 15-20 people there along with our extended family.
I had a mental breakdown in the parking lot, just complete and utter depression. When my parents got me to come inside, I locked myself in the bathroom so I wouldn’t embarrass my sister. My mom thought I was trying to kill myself again, so she got the people to unlock it and then wouldn’t let me go back in. So I spent the rest of the party curled up in a ball under the counter.
Then this year, I ended up in the hospital on her birthday. She couldn’t even visit because she was too young. But my doctor let her come, and she brought me a present. It was her birthday. I should have been getting her a present. I feel really crappy about missing her last two birthdays.
I hate my family.
I hate living inside this dollhouse of play pretend.
Everyone thinks we are happy, but inside all four walls is a child crying for help.
I am the child and in this dollhouse I’m nothing but a doll. Staying still, witnessing every hatred and anger between a mother and a father.
The dollhouse is burning, but the angry smoke filled my lungs until I suffocate.
The dollhouse is burning, and I don’t have the chance to escape.
The dollhouse, pretty but plastic, is what would kill me in the end.
I love fostering cats. Mostly kittens. A few months ago, I was taking care of a litter of six with their mom. The mom was great, took care of her kitties, and was super sweet. But she was in a hoarder home (specifically the mom because the kittens weren’t born there). I ended up getting sent to a hospital. But it turns out, the mom had some parasite from before. It killed one of the kittens. My mom in her eternal wisdom decided to wait a week before telling me. Because why would I care if a six week kitten that I’d loved since birth was dead? You know, just weird stuff like that.
She was afraid of how I’d react. She brought hot chocolate too, to soften the blow. And then she was all confused when I got mad at her.
The dead kitten’s name was Ember. She looked just like her mom, and she was so freaking loud. She meowed all the time. A couple weeks later, her brother Cinder died. He was gray and had a super short tail, and he never meowed. At least mom told me that time instead of trying to spare my feelings.
Everything that could go wrong went wrong. Just started school. My essay didn’t save in the proper format so now I have to fix it. It did not get seen by the tutor and if it did, idk how tf to view it corrected. The book i need for class arrived… at my old address which I have no way to get in contact with. So I had to it again, but there’s no overnight delivery nor E-books available. I needed the book for a paragraph I have to write which OH BY THE WAY is a graded Quiz. JUST FUCK MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.’
I feel like this song right now. But no one can fix me. I feel roken beyond repair. Why can’t I just be better? Why did I have to be this shitty stupid person.
I wish my family didn’t care about me. That would make it so much easier to end it. Just a lot of wishes and stuff. My mom cares so much and I wish I was someone that deserved her love and attention. I’m only alive for my cat, she has separation anxiety. Thanks for reading.
It’s been 5 years since everything fell apart, that’s when the spiral started and now I finally want to end it. I’ve tried to loosen the spiral, like unscrewing a screw, but it only gets tighter. I’ve been to many different therapies. I’ve tried getting help. But no one listens. It’s as if I’m screaming but no one can hear me. Like I’m behind a glass wall where I can see everyone, but everyone can’t see me. I don’t make friends very easily, and when I do they often leave. My mom and I have a very unstable relationship. I’m alone all the time. I’m scared all the time. I’m sad all the time. My depression and anxiety consume me. My eating habits are just as unstable as the rest of me. I want to die so bad. No one can help me…literally. My parents tried sending me to the mental hospital a little over a year ago and they told me I was “hypersensitive” and sent me home. How can you say that to someone with cuts all over them? It’s like the universe is doing everything in it’s power to keep me from being fixed. Currently things aren’t that bad, but I know it’s just an illusion. The universe’s way of some twisted joke. Here have some happiness, oh just kidding here’s your shit life again. I’ve seen it before and I’m not falling for it again. So even when I’m supposed to be happy I can;t because I know time is ricking before everything blows up in my face again. I just want to fade away. Like the energy of a star right after it explodes. It sounds comforting. They tell you you’re whole life “suicide isn’t the answer” or “it’ a temporary solution for a temporary problem”. The thing is, it’s not up to them to decide. They don’t know if it’s temporary or if things will be okay. It’s just what they say because they don’t know what else to say. But really, what do you say to a 16 year old girl who wants to die? Anyways I’m not expecting any response to this. It isn’t a cry for help or a desperate grasp for pity. Just needed to get it out there I guess.
it wasn’t fair. how you got to move on and I’m stuck here trying to get over your ass. its not fair how once, we talked about our future and now we barely talk at all. how i poured my heart for you and you refuse to notice my pleas… its not fair that i try to fall in love with someone else but you. are. always. there. i miss your hugs and your voice and your warm brown eyes. it was a short amount of time that i fell deep into the abyss of your heart. i fucking love u and i hate myself fo that.
every time i see you i want to cry. all of my friends tell me “you deserve better” or “you shouldn’t waste time on him” or “you too good for him”. it doesn’t matter how many times you tell me these things. i still put on a fake smile so everyone things I’m okay. I’m sorry I’m fucked up and that i was too much for you. i just wish i was enough for you to stay.
You know what eats away at you after a while?
Having to lie to your family every goddamn day that you’re doing fine. Knowing they want to help you, wanting to be helped and yet not wanting help at the same time. Having to pretend that you’re not thinking of killing yourself. Seeing that you’re family is blissfully unaware of what’s coming. Having to lie to your doctor, your psychologist, your fucking therapist, that you aren’t planning on killing yourself.
Part of you is screaming, “JUST TELL THEM!” Not because you want to, but because you just don’t want to lie anymore. But you keep your mouth shut. Because admitting it, means they’ll be put on high alert. Admitting it means you’ll be locked away. Admitting it now jeopardizes any attempt you make in the future.
I know I need to die. I know it’s whats best for everyone. For me, for my family, maybe even in some small part for the world. I’ve done wrong. And I will do wrong. That’s something I’ve learned in my short life: people can and won’t change. I am an evil person. Nothing can change that. Because the evil isn’t even necessarily what I did. It’s something inside. Something lying dormant. Waiting for the chance to make itself known. But it doesn’t know I know it’s there. And I’m going to beat it to the punch.
I don’t want to hurt them. My family. My friends. If there was any other way I could do this without causing them pain, I would. But I see it as like pulling a tooth. Just do it quickly. The ache will still be there, for years or even decades, but doing it fast will cause as little damage as possible. They won’t see it that way. They might never understand why. After all, I’ve spent years trying to explain it to them. But they don’t have to. It’s selfish of me to want to be heard when what they truly need is to be rid of me. I won’t taint their grief with my excuses. It’ll just lengthen the healing process. I need to be in and out as fast as possible.
Until then, I need to lie. Keep them thinking I’m okay. Try not to show too much emotion. Try not to cause too much trouble. It’s just like acting. I used to do a lot of acting when I was younger. Back when it wasn’t a way of life. I’ve grown kind of tired of it now. When you do something everyday it loses its appeal. There’s something poisonous about it all. I feel like I’m rotting from the inside out. But maybe that’s what I deserve. Liars often loose track of their stories, and I’m starting to forget who I am. (Actually, I’m starting to forget many things.)
Thank you for listening to me. It’s been a rough week, as my frequent uploads have probably clued you in. But I think this is helping. I might post more here. If this is the only place I can be honest, I’m going to take advantage of it.
This is going to be one of the stranger things I’ve posted.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s thought about what they would do with a time machine. Maybe fix a mistake they made in the past, warn themselves about incoming danger, kill Hitler. Those are all perfectly normal fantasies.
Me, I want to kill myself. Maybe that’s normal here. There are probably a lot of people on here who would go back to a failed suicide attempt to do it right. But that’s not really what I want to do. I want to go back to a very specific time in my life. My teenage years. I always try to pretend that the person I was during my adolescence wasn’t me. Even if I know that’s not true. That’s why I always refer to that version as “her” rather than “me”. I don’t like being related to her. It makes me feel nauseous.
So lately, I’ve often pictured myself going back in time to end her life myself. I imagine myself sneaking into her room at night, while she’s sleeping. It would probably be really bizarre to see her. Like some kind of out of body experience. Looking into a mirror, except the reflection’s not quite right. Thinking about seeing her face makes me irrationally angry. Like how I get angry sometimes looking at my own reflection. Much like her, I also like to pretend that my reflection and I are two different people. I suppose it’s just another way I dodge responsibility.
I can’t decide if I want to smother her with a pillow or stab her with a knife. If I smother her, I could watch her struggle for one or two minutes, prolonging the whole ordeal for her. But then she wouldn’t see my face. I want to see the horror and confusion knowing the person who’s killing her is herself. Alternatively, if I stab her, she’d most likely jolt awake and see me (herself) crouched above her, twisting the knife in her gut. But then, given the chance, she would probably scream. I doubt she’d have the decency to die quietly. As much as I hate her, I don’t want my family’s past selves to see the act. She’s done enough to ruin their lives. Her dying will only fuck things up for them more. Plus, she won’t last very long if I mortally wound her. She deserves to suffer. I deserve to suffer.
Oh god, I think I’m going insane.
I have to be. No normal person thinks this way.
Why does thinking about killing my teenage self make me feel so good?
I’m really sorry everyone.
Please don’t hate me.
I just want to make everything right. I just want to fix what I did in the past.
If I had died, none of it would have happened.
People tell me to forget about it. That it wasn’t that bad what I did. But it was to me!
Part of me wants to die slowly. I deserve it.
The other part is a piece of shit coward too afraid of the pain to give myself exactly what I deserve.
I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Getting emotional about something that’s completely impossible never helped anyone. It doesn’t matter whether I go back in time to kill myself or I kill myself now. It’s all still me. It was always just me. And even if I do, killing myself won’t change what I caused in the past. But maybe it can prevent the damage I’ll cause in the future. My family doesn’t deserve to have me around. My friends don’t deserve to have me in their company. When I was a child, I was just an inconvenience. But when I grew up I only got worse. I’m going to end this. It’s what’s for the best. Even if my loved ones are hurt by my death, I’m sparing them from a much worse fate.
I’m sorry again for the rant-like post. I told myself I’d stop writing these. But I guess it’s better than keeping all this bottled up inside. Happy Quarentine. (If you can even call it that.)
i am afraid and full of fear.
I’ve always been suicidal it was a matter of solace to me – the knowledge that i can always quit, always can press the off button was comforting and gave me a sense of control (a tiny bit that is) over my life..
lately those thoughts of suicide are far too intense to be of any comfort. i think it started with the COVID outbreak and the surreal, almost unbelievable sense of loneliness and isolation. in the past 2 months i’ve been having a lot of suicidal thoughts that comes from the most trivial and common stress or anxiety, for instance my car radiator broke down and the crooks at the garage trying to “take me for a ride” and not fixing my car for three days because i am not willing to pay more than the agreed upon price and being extremely impolite towards me. this example is quite extreme i now realize but a lot of times the smallest inconveniences drives me to want to end my life. being idle and not doing anything with my life or for my health is also a factor (i am working half time at a dead end job though). many many years all i do is sit and mope, hard drugs and movies. from being a really friendly guy with quite a few good friends i slowly, over a period of maybe 10 years, became a hermit. it seems that i cant trust people anymore and being around people in a social settings exhaust me entirely, leaving me with the feeling that i just cant cope with people or society and having a resentment and even hatred towards them. it seems pointless trying to overcome all those obstacles and for what? i have been on this path for the most part of the last 20 years or more even. i’ll be 40 next year and cant remember what fun or content feels like. all i want is peace, just peace and nothing else. i dont believe i will kill myself but not because of the good reasons people talk about but out of sheer cowardice and the inability to decide anything of any importance. the easy way out is a cliche with no truth to it, it takes a great deal of balls and courage to take ones life in my opinion, that is.. so i dont know why i wrote it or for what purpose but i did and i guess i’ll press on the blue publish button anyway.
You smile and you laugh but it doesn’t make sense. Your duality clashes and you can only reset to default. I’m sorry I was blind
I just want to die but i don’t get why i do. it’s so weird. i know all the reasons why my life is shitty, but i don’t know why i want to die. i can’t pin down a specific set of reasons, and i can’t just say that every reason is a reason that i want to die, because that’s not true. i just.. want to die. always have. being hospitalized even made me want to kill myself MORE. nothing is helping. i’m hopeless.
hey. I realize I’m a lot younger than a lot of the people on this site. I know it sounds hella stupid that someone my age would have everything against the world but I feel like no one understands… like I’m drowning and everyone’s watching and having fun but all they see me is swimming- thriving. I know… “reach out,” they say. “we’re here for you,” they say.
the funny thing is, once, I believed them. I reached out once… and came on too strong… they ‘ran’ away. reached out to someone else… “you’re being dramatic” they said. well, maybe they were right. but do they know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself? do they know that I can scare someone away with nothing but simply a glance? I’m tired of always trying to search for the place where I belong or where I’m in the least respected.
I’m tired of searching for the right people, for a reason to try. I’m tired of lies and fake promises and everything in between. I know it sounds petty… there’s more I swear but for now I’m just tired.
So many people who take for granted how intelligent they are and waste their life. So many people who do the bear minimum knowing they could do so much more and succeed. So many intelligent people with eidedic (photographic) memories and not a care in the world. Why can’t that be me…
I hate my shortcomings. For the song? Creep by radiohead. I’ll probably post this a lot. I got the blues
The worst part isn’t the loneliness, or the emptiness, or the coldness.
It’s the fact that people care, that the people in my life love me.
No matter how much I wish everyone hated me or how much I wish nobody cared,
if I died I would be missed.
Did you know that sometimes when a mother’s child dies, she only lives a few years after? My mom says that when a mother’s child dies, the mother loses her will to live;
the driving force for life. The fact that people care feels like my last hope has been ripped away from me. Tell me I’m spoiled and that I’m selfish for wanting to die when there are so many people who care. I tell myself that every day. It all hurts so much.
I just want the pain to stop, is that so bad?
I feel like now that I’m not physicaly depressed I’m getting emotionally depressed.Iused to be incredibly sad all the time. It used to be that for some reason, somehow, I just did NOT want to live. I just wanted to die. That is no longer the case, but now I’m starting to face reality and that is getting me depressed. I’m poor, my parents won’t live forever, I’m schizophrenic, my memory is terrible, my social skills are bad, I’m kind of retarded and I’m gay (that last one is only bad for me personally due to certain circumstances in my life that made being gay suck a little I know It could’ve been worse). So These realities are hitting me like a ton of bricks because I’m trying to get out of a bad situation and I need to help others on the way, but I honestly don’t know if it’ll happen. I’m taking steps towards it, but again IDK if it’s possible. My mind now shattered, now broken, lies in the care of itself. Isn’t that Ironic? Anyone who can and would take care of me is so far away. ANd I chose to stay here in order to study. I wonder if this will pan out. I wonder if I’ll make it. I’m trying o hard, but IDK if it’s going to happen. This pandemic makesit harder for me. I wanted physical classes. I neededto be able to witness my teacher and be able to stay after and ask stupid questions that he already gave the answer to. But, no. It’s all online now. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’m scared. I’m trying to create a support network here, but as an adult that is incredibly hard. Especially without school or group therapy to attend. I feel alone. I feel weak. Seeing this, the state of the world and the riots is making me sad. I’m feeling a little down and this time with reasons. How unfortunate
‘
If you could restart, would you?
I have a debate with the voices in my head on this question. The reason I’m still alive is because I know I’ll be missed. I don’t know why they would miss me on some days. I find myself useless. But sometimes I think about how I am a survivor of all the bad times and all the times I wanted to hurt. I am a survivor to all the times I wanted it to end, of the times I was assaulted. I still stayed, and yes I look around and think to myself all the ways I could stop. Stop time, stop living.
So….If you could restart, would you?
An open book you can read
A closed, you cannot
Fake pages
So revealing
Yet so secretive
You can read so well
Yet you can’t read at all
A brand new book you’ve just opened
So new
So kind
So clean
Had it for months
The text grew weary
Behind it’s white pages
The secretive
The weary
Sad how
The one who cuts first
Will never be
The secretive
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