Rants

I’ve been a lurker on this site for a while, and just now decided to post. I don’t know how many other “helpful” sites I’ve been to that tell me to think positively. Get out there and do your best. You just need to keep trying. I just want to scream SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME! I don’t want your platitudes! I don’t want your fortune cookie nonsense! I want to be heard! I want to be seen! JUST LISTEN TO ME! I’m in pain. I’m lost. I’m confused. I feel hopeless. BECAUSE I AM HUMAN!!!! AND I FEEL PAIN!! I don’t want your pills. I don’t want your therapy. I don’t want my suffering to be a cash crop for ****** companies and the money-grubbing snobs who write the DSM. I want to be me, even if it’s depressed and a bit cynical. Even if I isolate. I’m a FLAWED human being. My mental illness can’t be erased. It is part of who I am. I’m here. Get used to it.

The sites that we’re all “supposed” to use (I’m sure many users on here know what I mean), just make me feel worse. Like, gee thanks. Now I feel like a total failure because I’m not thinking positively. Sorry that I’m not as good as you. But you can’t speak up when someone treats you like that on “helpful” sites. We’re all supposed to be mindless slaves. Take your pills and shut up. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t make people feel unconformable. Just be normal. Stop being a screw up. Stop being “problematic.” Get help. It’s absolutely crazy that we’re treated like garbage, while also being told to think positively. What? We’re all told we’re wrong and need help, but also there’s nothing wrong with us. Love yourself. Seriously. Like, I said THEY need to shut up and LISTEN TO US!!!

I’m literally getting closer and closer to doing it. My plan was to graduate college first, but God damn it, I’m this close to saying fuck it and just throwing myself off of a building. I don’t want to do this anymore. I am so fucking tired of being alive, putting effort into shit that doesn’t make me even mildly content. I’d say I wonder how everybody else does it, but I can’t muster up the desire to care. I don’t care about anything anymore.

I go through my days miserable. Sometimes I’m considering if it would really be all that easy to step in front of a car while crossing the  street. I find myself looking at the windows of my classrooms, trying to judge whether the fall would be enough.

I want to just disappear into the woods and never come back. I think that’s how I want to go out; just vanish suddenly, leave no trace. Just go somewhere deep in the woods and never come back. I want to become a part of the woods. Heh, maybe I’ll become a ghost, destined to haunt the forest for all eternity. Would that really be so bad?

I’m not afraid to die. I’m not worried about what I’ll look like if someone finds my body. And I’m not worried about how the people I care about will react. Does that make me a monster? I genuinely don’t know what is holding me back. If I’m being completely honest, it would be easier to kill myself now. If I go back home, than I have to get away from the family, call off of work, get somewhere that I can be undisturbed. If I do it here, all I have to do is start walking. There’s a nice bit of woods about half an hour from here. It has a creek, lots of trees.

I don’t know. Not yet, I guess.

I told her every day how hard it was for me to trust her. Every single day. I trusted her so little. Not because I didn’t want to trust her, but because I’m fucking paranoid. I told her everyday how hard it was. Every day. Every day until she. Every day until. Every. She left me. It’s been 6 days now. Almost a whole week. It hurts so much, and I want to cry, but… I can’t cry. I just can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I ca n t… I don’t have any words to say. I loved her so much. More than anyone or anything before. And then… it’s all my fault. All of it is my fault. She, I. I couldn’t trust her and then I started becoming delusional even though I knew that it wasn’t possible I couldn’t trust her. Why? Why couldn’t I trust her? She was the ONLY REASON I DIDNT KILL MYSELF SO WHY. WHY. ITS LIKE THIS EVERY TIME I FIND SOMEONE I LIKE. I JUST PUSH THEM AWAY. FUCK. I hate myself. I hate myself so much. It’s so painful to live, and the only thing I have left for is just the hope that she comes back to me. I don’t know how I let myself be so in love with her. I mean. I found her at the exact same time as my friends gave up on me pretty much. And now. Now I don’t have anyone. All my friends got tired of putting up with me, and my girlfriend left me because I pushed her away from me. Why can’t I just be like everyone else? It just looks so easy for everyone. And then there’s me. My life has just been a constant battle for the past year, and I’m kind of starting to give in. I don’t have anything left to live for. I don’t see why I should. Even try. It doesn’t seem worth it. It’s too painful. And I know… I know that it’s not going to get better anytime soon. How much fucking time and money will my family waste on me before they give up too? I mean, I’ve talked to a therapist but I can’t bring myself to trust a stranger with sensitive information, even though it’s “completely confidential”, because I’ve read and heard so many stories about therapists abusing their clients or laughing at them behind their backs that I really… really can’t bring myself to trust any therapist at all. I mean, my head is just a mess right now. I can’t make sense of anything, and it gets worse every day. Me being extremely paranoid doesn’t help at all. It feels like no matter what I do, I will always end up hurting myself. And I’m not mentally capable of faking anything right now. The best thing I can do is hide my face and not talk. I’ve always been so afraid of being judged. I dropped out of school recently. I only went back to school about 3 weeks ago to say goodbye to my friends. I didn’t have the courage to tell them though. I couldn’t bring myself to look my friends in the eyes and tell them that I was going to kill myself and that there was nothing they could do to change my mind. I really did think that I was going to, but then I didn’t, and instead I started feeling hollow. Even though I technically didn’t die… a part of me did. I was going to kill myself on March 25. Now I put the date at August 3. I don’t think that anyone is going to stop me this time. I mean. It’s not like anyone cares about me. Everyone just tells me that they’re tired of putting up with my bullshit, or that they are worried about me. Either way, I don’t trust people when they say positive things about me. I can’t bring myself to believe that there could be anything good about me. I think I probably deserve this. I mean, it’s my own fault. I did this to myself. There’s no one else to blame. I could blame my girlfriend… Actually no, I couldn’t. I still love her too much to blame anything on her. I don’t know if it would have been better or worse if I never met her. I probably would have convinced myself not to die… or maybe not. I mean that day, was. I didn’t feel sad at all. It was more like I had a duty to fulfill, and I didn’t fulfill that duty. And then I felt, hollow. Weird. Not really empty. More like… I wasn’t whole. Like some parts of me had just been taken away. And I still feel like that. It’s weird to me, how, if I’m going to have a bad day, or a day where every day after that day it gets considerably worse, I always know 3 days ahead of the time. I never know what will happen that day. I just know that I will feel decent, and every day after will be worse. March 25, April 4, March 5 and 17, were days like that. On March 5, I had a panic attack, and I cried for like 3 hours because I felt so useless and incapable after going to school for one day and feeling like absolute fucking shit. On March 25, I was left alone in my house, completely alone, and I cried for hours. Then, I played some video games. It didn’t make me feel better. But, I feel the best when there is no one that can hear, see, touch, or smell me. I hate when there’s even a possibility of anyone being near me. Not because I don’t like people. But because I can only be myself when I am completely alone. When I’m not alone and I act like myself, people judge me. They say I’m weird, they say they don’t understand me. Why should they understand me? It pisses me off. I get offended. I don’t like getting offended. So I don’t like being around other people because there is always something that irritates me. There’s always at least one thing that I just can’t stand about someone. Which is why I like acting shallow so they don’t show the side of themselves that makes me irritated. But when I get close to someone… It’s not that they irritate me. It’s just that because they know they know me even a little bit… I see them as a threat. A threat that I either have to control, or remove, before it becomes too big. That’s why I pushed all my friends away from me. That’s why I pushed my girlfriend away from me. That’s why I can never get to know anyone. I see them as a threat, and I either want them to get away from me, or be completely submissive to me. Now that I think about it, the only friendships I ever had when I was a kid I established through beating other kids up and telling them that if they didn’t hang out with me I would beat them up more, and if they told their parents or a teacher, I would also beat them. So I guess, I’ve never had any friends. Until recently, anyway. But can you really call someone a friend if you can’t trust them at all no matter how hard they try? I mean, I’m the problem. I thought some more about my girlfriend today. I literally think about her every day, even now that she stopped talking to me. I talked to one of the people that I guess I could call a friend that I haven’t really pushed away yet, who was also a friend of my girlfriend, but well… She stopped talking to him too. I think she doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. That’s how much I hurt her. I don’t even know why I entered a relationship in the first place. I knew that I wasn’t mature enough to handle that sort of thing. But well. She definitely was. She was the only person I’ve ever met apart from like one guy that really accepted me for who I was. Most people think that “the real me” is the false image of myself that I project in public while I pretend to be okay. But that part of me isn’t even a whole person. It’s just a charming character that’s extremely shallow and doesn’t have any interests at all. I mean, the whole point of that character is to maintain social relations with classmates and teachers without seeming like an interesting person so I guess it’s fine if I act that way in public. But the problem is, my family members think that that person is the real me. It’s not. It’s extremely mentally exhausting for me to maintain that character, which is basically perfect, and it gives me a huge headache and tons of anxiety after. I mean, I can’t maintain it for a whole day at school even. I used to be able to. I used to be able to maintain that character constantly, I guess you vould say it’s “the best version of myself”, but really it’s just like the skin of a snake. I shed it as soon as I am alone. I didn’t use to though. I used to be that character full time, every single day. Until I was around 14 years old. Then I started slowly breaking down. For just a few minutes at a time. I mean, you can’t maintain a perfect personality, that’s just not human. Or maybe it was just that I faced some kind of pain… I don’t know. But anyway, that character started slowly disappearing and getting consumed by… what I would call the real me. Which is a child, really. A spoiled child, quick to irritate, slow to forgive, impatient, untrusting, manipulative, angry, full of hate towards both himself and everyone around him. I don’t like either of those two, and most of the time I’m just… the manifestation of the exhaustion that results from having to deal with those characters constantly arguing with each other inside of my head. So really, I don’t understand, which one of these three is the real me? Maybe there are even more characters that I don’t even know of. I mean, most days I feel like I’m just an observer and someone else is controlling my body while I watch the theater play  unfolding inside of my head. But either way, my girlfriend just accepted all of this. I don’t know how. I guess she just really loved me. I for some reason don’t really miss her anymore. Even though I actually do. I mean, I love her, but I also hate her, and feel completely indifferent, at the same time. But the main thing I feel when I think about her is guilt and regret. I don’t regret having the relationship. I learned a lot of valuable lessons. I just regret how it ended. Because it was all my fault. And I feel so guilty. I couldn’t be honest with myself, so I couldn’t be honest with her, so I started projecting, and then I started getting delusional, and I thought, “she is going to leave me”, so I gave her an ultimatum and she chose to leave me. Actually, I’m not sure I even gave her any choice. I just pushed her away, like I do with everyone else. That’s the one thing I hate about my family. It’s impossible to push them away from me. I wanted to get away from them, and I saw my girlfriend as the way out. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Even though I met her just, not even two months ago. And now. I just regret. I regret not showing her that I loved her more. Maybe if I had done that. Maybe. Maybe she wouldn’t have left me alone. Even when I was so obsessed with her. I mean, she was pretty much all I thought about, so because of the way my head works I was bound to hate her, even if it was just for one hour. Then the next hour, indifferent. Then the next hour, completely obsessed. Just so extremely in love, really. Then the next hour, forget about her completely. And that’s how it was like for me, every day of my relationship with her. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me. I took the most valuable thing I had in my life, the woman that saved my life. And I told her she was worthless to me. That I couldn’t trust her. That I hated her. I can never, and will never forgive myself for that. If she ever gave me a second chance… I doubt she will. But if she did. I would take it without a second thought. Because I still love her so fucking much. It was just… I was just angry at her because I was angry at myself and I started projecting the way I felt about myself onto her. I couldn’t help it. It would be great if it actually was that way. But I know the truth. I definitely could have helped it. I would have never done it… It’s not like me to do something like that. I told her I never wanted to hurt her, that I would never hurt her. And then. Then I did. I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell her that. I’m so so sorry. But maybe this is just a character. Maybe I don’t really feel this way at all. Maybe it’s just something that I imagined. I mean. Was I dreaming? Am I dreaming right now? I. I don’t know. I know that when I tell myself I’m dreaming it’s to cope with an extreme amount of sadness or anxiety because I don’t want to show it to anyone. Why can’t I just be honest with myself? Why was I here? What was I doing? I don’t know what this is about. I don’t know what. I’m so high right now. I feel so light. Like I’m going to start floating any second. I feel so free. So free from all the pain. I want to feel like this forever. I don’t feel happy or sad or angry or calm or apathetic I just feel… light. Like I’m floating on a cloud. I don’t even have any problems. I can’t remember any problems I had. I feel so great right now! I feel so happy! I shoukd celebrate I want to vomit. I feel sick. My head hurts. Ow. It’s really painful. My eyes hurt. My stomach hurts. My stomach hurts a lot. I’m sick. I feel sick. I feel tired. I feel so sick. My chest hurts. My heart is pounding really hard. OW. My chest really hurts. It’s painful. My fingers hurt too. My wrists hurt. My whole body hurts. I’m tired.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. It just doesn’t go away. I miss her. I miss her. I miss her so much. I miss her so fucking much. I don’t care anymore. I just want to be with her. I would do anything for a second chance. I would do anything to go back in time and erase my mistakes. I would do anything. Anything! Is it even possible? I mean, I love her and she did love me. I wonder if she still loves me. I wonder if she misses me as much as I miss her. I hope she does. Not because I want her to suffer, but because I want her to come back to me. I feel so lost and lonely without her. I couldn’t make sense of anything before and now it’s even worse. It gets worse every day. I have fucking 5 family members that care about me. And I still feel so fucking alone whenever I think about her. And I think about her all the time. Literally all the time. I would do anything to spend time with her again. But I can’t. I can’t do anything. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I just. I LOVE HER SO MUCH AND THERES NOTHING I CAN DO. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I. I CANT. I CANT SLEEP. I CAN BARELY EAT BUT NOTHING TASTES GOOD ANYMORE. IM ALWAYS TIRED. I HATE LIVING. I HATE LIFE. I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT HATE IT HATE I HATE TI HATE HATE I HATE IT HATE HATE I HATE IT I HATE IT HATE IT I HATE LIFE HATE LIFE I HATE FUCKING HATE LIFE SO MUCH I WISH I WAS DEAD I WISH I WAS FUCKING DEAD SO I WOULD NEVER HAVE TO FEEL ANYTHING AGAIN

I don’t know how to start this really. I’m not sure if I’m even in the right place. I read some posts before making this one and well. It made me feel like my feelings were not really valid. I don’t know. I guess I just want to write down why I want to kill myself just for me and not really for anyone else, just to release it I guess. I don’t really trust the people I know irl, and I don’t trust my therapist either, I just tell them that I’m always tired and I can never concentrate on anything. Recently I’ve been opening up more, but it just makes everyone more confused about me. My parents tell me I contradict myself a lot. I don’t know if I do. They also tell me that they can’t trust me. I never liked my parents. I’m not sure why. They give me food, a place to live, and some attention and that seems to be enough for most people. I’m kind of losing track here, so I’ll restart over and over until I think it’s right. When I was a kid, everyone always gave me compliments. I didn’t really like playing with other children. There was one teacher that I had in kindergarten or whatever you would call it. Preschool, maybe? It wasn’t anything like school though. Well, we didn’t have any responsibilities really but we did some activities like drawing and playing and singing and dancing and napping. Sometimes we went outside for expeditions too. Anyway, my favorite teacher there apparently never existed. It was just someone I made up according to everyone I talked about it. Which is weird, because I would just be in that teacher… or I guess I shouldn’t call her a teacher because she didn’t teach anything. Person of authority I guess. Anyway, I would be in her lap for hours and just hug her and that was my favorite part of the whole day. That was the only time I ever felt safe, I think. I’ve never felt safe at home. I used to feel safe with my parents, but after I turned about seven or eight years old, they started treating me differently, so I never felt safe around them because of that. I’ve never felt safe when I’m alone either. I’m not sure if I did feel safe with my parents before I was seven or eight either, I just felt like they could protect me from any danger. And well. I had a lot of nightmares and delusions, I guess, when I was little. I hit my head really hard when I was four years old and it started bleeding, so my balance has been pretty terrible for my whole life. I fell from a bed that was 2 meters high up I think, it was a bunk bed, I was jumping between the bed and the closet and then eventually I fell and I bounced between the closet and the bed five times, hitting the same spot at the back of my head every time. I think I still have a scar there, but it’s not visible because I have so much hair. Whenever I was sleeping in bed, I always turned my lights off. But I was really scared. I was frightened actually. Because I could hear sounds coming from outside my window, and I always assumed that it was from a woman trying to trick me into following her into the forest. There was a forest right next to my house. I thought that that woman was the witch that controlled the wild boars. I saw her in my room sometimes, in front of the window. It was very scary. My mother told me that her grandmother died when I was about a year old, she died from cancer. I used to think that she was haunting our house. When I got scared of the woman outside my window trying to lure me out, I walked out into the hallway. My house was really long, so there was a 20-ish meter hallway which connected the kitchen, living room, and the room that you enter the house from, two bedrooms, one office, a bathroom, and the washing room, which connects to my parent’s and my younger brother’s bedroom, and another bathroom, and another exit. At the end of the hallway, there was a bureau. That bureau was white. At night, it looked blurry, and it shined, so naturally I thought it was the ghost of my great grandmother haunting our house, so going to the bathroom and running to my parent’s bedroom for safety was like going through a nightmare. Everytime I exited the bathroom I was scared that someone was going to hurt me the moment I got out. Not because it was something that could happen, but because I had a very wild imagination and I thought that literally everything was out to hurt me, as my mother had told me that every stranger I see is dangerous, and that boars are very dangerous creatures, and I am attracted to women, so something that is attractive AND dangerous is to be avoided at all costs, right? Well, that’s basically what I’m still to this day hardwired to believe. It doesn’t make sense but all those nights where I was scared that my life was in danger just because of the dark, I got more and more scared, but I learned how to face those fears too. I’m no longer that scared of going to the bathroom at night… just a little bit. Or a lot. It depends honestly. I’m losing track of where I was going. Oh yeah, well basically this all led to me being really, without any reason at all, suspicious, wary, afraid of, and aggressive, towards people I don’t know. I guess you could say I’m paranoid and antisocial? Or something like that. I haven’t been like that my whole life though. Writing this is really difficult, it makes my head hurt. Anyway. I developed a really good sense of humor to protect myself from other people. If they are busy laughing, they won’t care much about me, I think. So well, I use that humor to draw people in and then I continuously draw them in and push them away as different parts of my mind conflict on how I should treat people. It’s extremely frustrating for me, and I have lost a lot of good friends because of this. Well, they only liked me because they thought that I was funny and intelligent. I guess I should talk about my intelligence now too. I’ve always been the smartest person I know I think. I’ve never met anyone that’s smarter than me I think. When I was about six or so years old, I started going to school, and quickly, math became my favorite subject. When I was six years old, I used to go to a website to practice math, and eventually I reached algebra, which I didn’t understand, and then I thought that I didn’t need to study any more math for the rest of my life. Then I got interested in languages. I learned english extremely fast. I think it took me about 2 years to become fluent in english. When I was nine years old, I was better than my english teacher, who had lived in England for several years, at english. I was also excelling at all other subjects in school, except for arts. I’ve never been good at drawing. I probably never will be unless I practice consistently for a very long time, and considering my current mental state, that’s very unlikely. I’ve also always been very physically attractive and athletic without putting much effort into it. All of it just came naturally for me. Everyone always complimented me about how intelligent, how knowledgeable, how smart, how funny, how cute, how handsome, how sexy I was. Basically, because of the way I was, the people around me worshipped me. So I developed some narcissistic traits. I think it’s pretty clear to see how narcissism combined with not trusting anyone, and always pushing people away can lead to some very bad situations. And it did. But it took a very long time. I actually knew that I was a narcissist and I simply did not care. That carelessness eventually carried over to everything else and developed into apathy. And apathy led to my physical health and grades dropping. Which led to my popularity decreasing. Which led to my mental health decreasing even further. Eventually, I got to the point where I am now. Honestly, I don’t think it’s going to get better any time soon. But well, rather than “going through a rough time”, it’s more like I’ve simply been completely destroyed in every possible way. The worst part is, I don’t care enough to solve it, so it’s just going to keep getting worse, but I don’t care. It’s really frustrating actually. But actually it’s not frustrating, because I really do not care at all. The only part of me that’s really frustrated is well, the most primal part, because it has gotten to the point where my life is in danger because I don’t eat or sleep enough, and I think about self harm and killing myself every single day. It’s weird how I fell from being probably the most perfect gifted child ever to this weird creature that I have devolved to. Really, when I look myself in the mirror I can’t help but feel disgusted. I usually stare myself in the eyes for quite some time in the mirror. The only reason I do it is because I want to know how I feel. People say your eyes are a mirror of your soul, or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, and I don’t really want anything because I honestly couldn’t care less about myself or anyone else for that matter. Man, I’m such a horrible person. That doesn’t bother me at all because I don’t care. Sometimes I feel sorry for my parents because they are really trying to make me feel better. But really. Why should I care about anything? It’s not like I have a reason to. Nothing is fun or exciting. It’s only fun when I convince myself that it is. I have to tell myself that something is fun to think that it’s fun. Otherwise it’s not fun for me. It’s such a pain in the ass. I don’t even know why I bother living. Really, the only reason I want to kill myself is because I’m extremely lazy. Isn’t that horrible? It should be. But for some reason, I don’t feel that way. The way I feel and act is completely different from everything I’ve been taught to believe. It really, really makes no sense at all. That’s about the only thing that bothers me. I feel like a broken machine. Like I’ve somehow been reprogrammed to only indulge in self destructive behaviors. I guess one thing I should say too, is I’ve been addicted to porn since I was about nine years old, so that’s about eight years now. I’ve tried quitting it quite a few times. I think the longest I’ve gone without watching porn for the past eight years is about 3 months. That’s fucking sad honestly. Yeah, I’m really a pathetic excuse for a human being, I shouldn’t even be allowed to use the term. Oh, apparently I only care when it’s something negative related to myself. That’s good to know, but not useful in any way at all. Anyway, back to the original point. I had a girlfriend that I got like a month ago after I pretty much quit everything else in life for not caring about them, and I really thought she was the most important person in my life for a while, and she was also mentally ill, she had like PTSD, Schizophrenia, Depression, Social Anxiety, Anxiety, lots of fun stuff. We both pretty much just vented to each other about our problems and sometimes talked about sex or how much we loved each other. Pretty normal relationship stuff I think. Well, because I’m a fucking idiot, I managed to push her away from me too, and she was the only reason I didn’t kill myself on the day I planned to (March 25), and now she hasn’t even tried to contact me for about five days and I feel really lonely, and really dissatisfied, disappointed, ashamed, and frustrated with myself because I accused her of not caring about me at all, I told her I didn’t trust her enough to believe that she loved me, she told me fine. She hasn’t spoken to me since. It’s really making me regret it. I already hated myself before I told her that. I mainly told her that because I wanted her to hate me as much as I hate myself. I’m such an idiot. I told her that I mess everything up, and that I can never make anything work out so I wasn’t sure how long our relationship would last and she told me everything was going to be fine. She was wrong. I was right. It’s such a shame too. I really loved her. Or maybe I just wanted any attractive woman that would give me sex and attention. I think it might have been that really, because I don’t actually miss her I just miss the way she made me feel. I haven’t slept for 3 days. I have barely eaten since I broke up with her. Maybe feeling this way is just some sort of coping mechanism? I don’t know honestly. Nothing really makes sense to me. I’ve been writing this shit for 2 hours now. I don’t even remember what it was about. I really miss my girlfriend. I love her more than anything. I can’t really function properly without her. I needed someone like her to function properly. I mean, the last five days without her have been pure psychological torture. I’ve been having hallucinations for the past 4 months too. Mostly just noises. A um. Not a psycholog psychiatrist a psychiatrist told me that something about anxiety. Anxiety noises at night it’s normal. I’m not sure. Um. Hearing noises at night could be a symptom of anxiety. I guess I have anxiety? I mean, I hear people whistling, knocking on my walls, I heard a weird noise that sounded kind of like if you had played a sound of a pigeon singing in slow motion really loudly right next to me, but I guess it’s just anxiety so it’s nothing to worry about. I don’t know if I care. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I guess I’m ambivalent. I’m not neutral and I’m definitely not indifferent. I really want to be with my girlfriend. I miss my girlfriend. Shouldn’t I be sleeping right now? Maybe I should. I guess I’ll try to. There are no more words coming. Just noises and pain.

I don’t know what any of this means

Anorexics don’t ask for help. Narcos don’t really want to put down the drugs.
I know because I’ve been there.
I got a therapist for the first time and I barely told them anything, I thought that day was going to be a good one but after I came home and told them about it the day just fell on itself and I regretted everything.
I just want him back, he doesn’t. I want to stroke my hand down the plush clothing on his back. I want to die.
But I can’t, as soon as I put the poison in again the smell fills my nose and I can’t hold it.