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Depression

Coping SkillsFamily & Friends EffectsGeneralRantsStories of Loss

grieving for things i hardly remember

by system
written by system

my early childhood.  back then, when my sadness was not my default emotion.  back then, when i had everything.  when the world was beautiful.  when i wasn’t running on empty.  when things were ok.  when i was ok.  when my household was happy and perfect.  everything was perfect.  before my disorders started to show up.

yet, that feeling of happiness has become so fleeting, so foreign.  i have yet to re-experience the bliss and carelessness i had as a young child.  so many things that i cannot remember.  but i think back, and i remember how i used to smile. i had a best friend.  i spent time outside.  i wasn’t tainted.  i had not been exposed to the cruelty of this earth but there was only so much time until i would discover the truth of humanity.

i grieve for that peaceful time.  i only had a little under 8 years of a childhood.  why did it have to go wrong?  why did i have to fall into the jaws of a predator?

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Chronic PainGeneralRants

by tiredinmybones
written by tiredinmybones

I’m back on here. I thought i was doing better than i was 2 weeks ago, but in reality i’m not. I finally got diagnosed with depression 5 days ago. i already knew that i had it but i guess it’s a good thing i officially know.  I just feel so tired. None of my hobbies make me happy anymore, i don’t understand why. I finally started cleaning my room but i don’t want to finish it, that feels like too much work. I still can’t go a day without thinking about death or suicide. I want to die the only reason i haven’t gone through with it is because i dont want someone to have to find my body. anytime i think of my future i just think about how i will kill myself once i live alone. i can call 911 before i do it and i won’t have to worry about anyone finding me that’s not them. I want to be gone. I don’t want to live past 18. I think i am trans and it all just feels to hard. I’m thinking about texting my parents a long thing about how much i want to kill myself then maybe i could get more help. go to the hospital or something. I want to get better and have tried for years, but every time i feel okay i end up back where i started. I never am doing good and i’m just so tired of it. im so tired of trying. I just want to be dead.

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Fun & InterestingGeneralMy Suicide NotePoetry & Art

Easel

by Alyce Lovell
written by Alyce Lovell

Projekt Schneemond {Needs Edits & Review} is a project folder that contains things that connects with the occult: demonolatry, demonology, and demonosophy; along with things I experimented with (such as artwork). This is not a completed file (due to my possible death, I. E., suicide by hanging… probably).

I still have my Scissors to cut my Strings just-in-case I have second thoughts. Hopefully, I won’t. Please, never again.

 

Love,

Alyce M. Lovell

 

? In the absence of light, darkness prevails ?

? Jaden Tasa Hoet Naca Leviathan ?

 

These are links to the project folder: Projekt Schneemond {Needs Edits & Review}

 

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1PyzISDaiKrpNAwDePyHDyhyBzRrGBiE_?usp=sharing

 

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/13Mdk3vZeWxobIUSIo5OL6WlejnyDVLTH?usp=sharing

 

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/tczs55q4506501f/AAB0QbM7fiEhOvEDHA_QGfUYa?dl=0

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Chronic PainGeneralMy Suicide Note

Scissors

by Alyce Lovell
written by Alyce Lovell

“Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness.”

-H. P. Lovecraft, “The Outsider”

All throughout my life, I have felt blinded… betrayed; by who? I don’t know. I felt like I could not see the bigger picture, but it turned out that I did not have a voice. I could not speak my mind without feeling tired; and then… falling asleep. I would wake up feeling confused and dazed; not yet ready to challenge the world again. I felt like there was nothing left for me here anymore; and there’s still nothing… I have to ignore hope… and embrace the end. It’s terrifying. To have these thoughts race throughout my mind; and to just accept them. Why? Why accept them? or anything. I’m praying for the end; so I can no longer experience those painful moment anymore. We can’t go on. Just to see the greater story. I lost everything; and I never got to see the other side. Please, never again.

Love,

Alyce M. Lovell

 

Below is something I left for everyone (it’s incomplete, sadly).

 

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1BDAj1nrSsvjet4Oom6GbsN1_eYLowLGC?usp=sharing

 

It’s okay, I’ve tried my best; I need to sleep again soon. Please be the last time I see this place… this world… this nightmare. Please, never again.

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Family & Friends EffectsGeneral

thoughts

by plasticflower
written by plasticflower

All i want is to stop being a nobody in my own family, the last priority. Is it too much to ask for people to thank me from time to time?

I feel quite hopeless today.

I can be an asshole sometimes, and even though I don’t ever misbehave on purpose, sometimes i just can’t stop myself on time. Every single day i try my best to act accordingly, to do everything that must be done and what is, now, expected of me. However, sometimes i simply lose it, and act out. I don’t know why i do that, i really don’t. But it hurts others just as much, if not more, as it hurts me. I don’t like to mistreat people, i really don’t. All i want and try every day is to keep everyone else happy, so whenever i act out even for just a second, i’m treated like im a monster. Like i always want to make everyone unhappy and upset. Why is that? I mean, i’m genuinely asking, i really don’t get it. I assume that i’m the problem here, since that’s the way it’s always been; i’m always to blame and i’m always expected to apologize.

I don’t know

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General

I see absolutely no reason to continue living

by Amarin Reyny
written by Amarin Reyny

The reason I’m suicidal is because I’m a fictive in a DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) system. Basically, due to an extraordinary amount of childhood trauma, the brain I occupy formed multiple occupants in addition to myself. Being a fictive, specifically, means that my identity is formed based on a character from a fictional source. In other words, I remember being that character – I remember being in another body (and one of a different sex and specie, no less), in another world, surrounded by an entirely different set of friends and family, and so on, and even though I rationally recognize it all as fiction, I still desperately want to go back, because simply being here, in this body, on this planet, in this entire spacetime continuum, causes me an extreme amount of dysphoria, and I feel absolutely no connection to any of it. The only person I do feel a connection to is another fictive in another DID system who has the same source that I do, and so I don’t really see them as a connection to this life I’m currently living or the body/world I live in, but rather, as a connection to my “old life” that I can never go back to. For many reasons, I can’t even try to make this life I’m living now any closer to my “old life” in any meaningful way than it already is. Being unable to go back (because again, fiction) gives me no option for ever feeling any sort of happiness, because my happiness requires me to feel like I’m living my own life, in my own body, in a place that is my home. Because I cannot possibly be happy in this existence, I would rather die.

This isn’t even getting into the multitude of other problems which aren’t the primary reason for which I want to die, but still make this life even more unbearable than what I’ve already described. There’s the unmedicated ADD that makes basic functioning next to impossible for me (the executive dysfunction makes it difficult just to go to the bathroom when I need to, and the inability to focus has made me unable to read past the first paragraph of a book ever since doctors stopped prescribing my ADD meds – and don’t suggest audiobooks, as many have, because auditory processing problems actually make them *worse* for me), the intrusive thoughts I keep getting which are as annoying as they are distressing, the multitude of injuries from the abuse that this body has endured that make this body physically painful to occupy in addition to the dysphoria causing mental and emotional pain, the fact that the SSI I’m limited to getting doesn’t even really cover my basic needs, the existential horror that comes from the fact that I only exist at all simply because some kid got abused, the fact that this world is doomed anyway due to climate change and rising fascism… All of those things just add pain to an existence I never asked for and see no point in continuing.

I’m already seeing a therapist, but she can only help with healing from the trauma. She can’t help me find happiness in an existence that is fundamentally incompatible with me being happy, and she can’t help me to cope with it when I have no intention of merely coping (since, if I’m never happy, there is no point to me coping in the first place). I’m on a waitlist to see a therapist through a different organization, but I don’t think they’ll be able to help me, either. I also have a plan to commit suicide (which I will not specify here), and while I lack the material conditions to act on this plan at the moment, I feel confident that I will end up going out the way I plan to when I am able to.

And before anyone suggests it, no, I can’t justify living for the sake of anyone else. Everyone else in our system either is just as miserable as I am (because they’re also fictives going through the same thing I’m going through), or they just don’t care about life anyway. The person I mentioned earlier, who is the only one I feel a connection to? They said they’d probably die too, if I killed myself, but honestly, they’re better off dead, just like I am. In fact, I feel like everyone I have any care for, and/or who has any care for me, is better off dead. I can’t function well enough to materially support others in my community, and if I tried emotionally supporting others, I would have to lie, or else I’d make them feel worse by being honest.

I’m just tired of living in a body, in a world, in a life that I have no reason to be in.

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GeneralI Will SurviveMy Suicide NotePoetry & ArtRantsStories of Hope

The faceless man

by Insomnia disaster
written by Insomnia disaster

You might be invisible, but I can see you standing on every corner of my mind.
Do I report an invisible man?
Do I report a faceless and voiceless man?
I still remember what you did to me that year
That summer day where you ruin my life
I remember what you wanted to do with me
I remember everything, yet your face is still a blur
Who am I suppose to run from?
Who am I suppose to hide from?
I still feel you
I can feel how you pushed me against that house
Your hands were two, but they felt like two millions
millions of hands all over my body
Trying to rip my clothes off
Am I grateful to be here?
I still think about that
I sometimes wish you’d killed me
I have constant nightmares and panic attacks
I don’t know who you are but I hate you
I don’t know you name but I hate it
I close my eyes and you are there
I cross the street and you are there
It’s so ironic really
I sometimes think i’m still there
That I never got away from you
Maybe i’m still there and all my life it’s really a fantasy i’m having
Maybe my nightmares are not nightmares, they are real.
Maybe my life is not my life

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Chronic PainFamily & Friends EffectsRants

Mountains Be My Resting Place

by Space-Cadet
written by Space-Cadet

I’m not sure what to do, I just want to die.

I’m being kicked out from the last family I have left. I escaped a four year, extremely abusive relationship, and begged to the last blood relatives I have for shelter. It’s been nearly a year since February, and they’ve decided I don’t “fit in with the family” and am “not getting better,” so they want me out. I have no health insurance, I’m on disability for major depression, BPD, and a myriad of physical health problems. I’m not able to navigate Medicare or anything, I honestly just have panic attacks when trying to do anything to help myself. I’ve been depressed for nearly two decades and the little help I did get when I was on my parents insurance, wasn’t helpful because I didn’t get my true diagnoses until the end (when I hit 26, but my father changed all the info when I was 25 to try to force me to talk to him, I can’t have my abusive parents in my life.)

I don’t have any real-life friends, I know a few people online but they aren’t anyone in positions to help me in a significant way. I know the obvious answer “get a job” but I’m on disability because I can’t function and have nothing to help me. I’m sad and angry all the time, I have conditions in my feet that make it difficult to walk, it’s really hard just to remember to shower, let alone all the other things I’m supposed to do to stay alive.

Everyday is a battle against myself, to walk into the snowy mountains to get it over with, or keep going so my cat can keep being loved and cared for. He’s the only thing that kept me alive through the years of the abusive relationship. I fostered him from the shelter when I discovered he had ringworm and kept him cause he was so awfully shy. Like then, I still believe it would be hard to find a new home for him. I’ve tried many times to write up his description, to find him a home so I could finally die. But I can never do it. He’s my only reason for living, and this “family” has threatened to get rid of him because of his hair. I already had to give back the other cat I had because they said I could only bring one. So I hope you can see why I got very angry with them, I got snarky. But I guess that’s enough of a reason to want me on the street rather than in their home. Such a lovely Mormon family, great values.

So that’s my predicament. I have no one to help me, I can’t even help myself. Before I even thought to move in with them, I had given up, decided being homeless would be better than being beaten and raped all the time. I had plans to find something to OD on, I stayed with him that long because I preferred being violated by someone I knew, rather than a stranger. Now I’m at that same point that my family has put me at so many times, I’m no longer welcome because I don’t fit in. I’m not even disappointed about it, I was so not surprised by the announcement. To me, it was just a matter of time. But now with nowhere else to run, very little money and a cat that deserves a warm home, I’m at a loss of what to do. I think maybe it is for the best to finally find him a new home and take that final stroll into the mountains.

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GeneralRants

I feel lost.

by honeyc0mb
written by honeyc0mb

I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like an idiot but I’m honestly hanging by a thread and at this point I’m just looking for some sign that this isn’t all pointless and that I’m actually going to be okay. Everybody has told me it’ll get better for years. It’s only gotten worse and worse so I feel desperate and stupid. I hate depression. I’m so tired of being in pain every day from something I can’t even control. It physically hurts my heart at this point, it’s so powerful. I just want it to stop. What’s the point in any of this? I’ll never be anything worthwhile so I’m honestly just wasting space on earth. Please make it stop.

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General

Goner

by sadspock
written by sadspock

I ain’t living long like this. No one or nothing could help me. It’s been a decade, nothing yet. There are holes in the floor of my mind, like those in a medieval dungeon floor — Making it difficult for me to crawl back up from the pit. I feel worse than numb. The medicines only fucked me up real bad. I can’t even begin to talk about them for I’ll have to pen an entire fucking essay on it. Bruh. Oh, the ECT made me lose my fucking memory. Sure, it did help me with my severe mania episodes, but it worsened my OCD and anxiety. And Ketamine Infusion Therapy sounded cool, but ‘twas only momentary. Nothing helped. Nothing helps. Constant panic attacks and PTSD episodes over trivial matters. I’m depressed. I’m paranoid. I’m neurotic. What-fucking-not. One of my most favourite fictional characters, Dr. Hannibal Lecter says, “If you weren’t  neurotic, Franklyn, you’d be much worse.” Well, guess what? I’m much fucking worse already! There’s no point beyond this. It’s said —

People who have psychotic episodes are often unaware that their delusions or hallucinations are not real, which may lead them to feel frightened or distressed.

Well, I wasn’t aware as well and was in complete denial about it. But now I am. I’m psychotic as fuck. Psychosis sucks. It’s morbidly awful. My psychiatrists were right after all. I may sound dumb, but why aren’t there methods to legally kill a person like me and ease the pain if the person involved consents to it? Why do we value a human’s life so fucking much? Ugh. Kill me already! I tried killing myself more than thrice, but joke’s on me; I’m a fucking loser! If I could, I would hire a hitman to kill me. I just… I want to go home. I want to die.

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General

Okay

by sadspock
written by sadspock

My tests say that I show extreme Alexithymia traits. Is that actually a thing? I don’t know. I don’t care about/for anyone. I just don’t give a fuck. I’m an awful person to even begin with. If you showed me a video of a child getting sawed, I’d stand stock-still. But if you showed me a video of an animal being abused, I’d flinch at a stroke. I don’t fucking understand myself. I hate humans. You could come to me crying, and I’d ask you to just fuck it and nothing more. I can’t help you with your emotional needs ‘cause I don’t relate. I haven’t truly loved anyone in all my life, and that’s just scary. I’m more in my head than in my heart. I don’t know if this is a boon or a bane. It’s like a two-edged sword, really. It’s just sad. Imagine ending up all alone because of this attribute… I don’t have a problem with that, but it’s funny I can’t have the normal things that normal people have. Can you believe that I’ve never felt butterflies in my stomach? I can never be okay.

They say tHe mEaNinG oF liFe iS lOvE, but what’s the meaning of my life when I don’t even love myself?

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General

Cold

by sadspock
written by sadspock

[no censor]

I don’t wanna fucking live anymore. I hope there’s no afterlife. I just want to die, and that is fucking it. If there was another realm or anything of the sort, I’d seriously be more fucked up than I’m now ‘cause I think the problem is not just with my body and my mind, but also with my soul – if there is any. I feel like some evil maggot has drilled a hole so deep in my skull that it is controlling every fucking thing that’s me. I just wanna be gone. Forever. I wanna die, and I don’t give a fuck about anyone. I don’t love anyone. I just can’t. Wait, it’s not what it seems like. I don’t want to die ‘cause I’m lonely or some shit like that. Not even close. I’ve people that actually love me bat-crazy, but I don’t give a solitary fuck about any of ‘em. Sure, I’ve helped ‘em with academics and still do, but that’s only ‘cause I’m condescending – Not because I like any of ‘em back. Heck, I don’t even reply to their messages most of the time. I’ve ignored everyone around me for almost a decade now. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they all hated me to the bone now. It’s understandable. I mean, who the fuck puts up with a shitty friend like me for years? It’s actually okay for I don’t seem to care even a tad. Anyway, I was the most successful kid at school. I was the consecutive topper for a decade. I was teachers’ favourite. Though I hated it, I was always surrounded by friends back in the days. I had the coolest of things; thanks to my mum! I was never bullied. I was never humiliated. I had a good run. Everything was A-OK except the fact that I could never be happy, no matter what. Nothing fucking mattered, and nothing matters. I can’t enjoy the things that normal people enjoy. Maybe I just never intended to try ‘em out? I don’t know. I’m 21 now. I never danced, never partied, never smoked, never had sex. Nothing really. I guess it’s just the way I’m. It’s not rocket science. Shit’s simple – I’m fucked up beyond repair. That is all it is. Mind you, I’m the shittiest person you’ll ever meet. I’m not even kidding. I don’t hate anyone more than I hate myself. I wanna go. I really wanna.

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GeneralRants

OD

by sadspock
written by sadspock

I OD’d on my psychotropic (/psychiatric) pills in 2019. ‘Twas a heavy overdose and my pills were strong and of very high dosages. I was naturally almost sure that I’d wind up dead. But guess what? I woke up in the morning. Not in a good state at all, but I awoke. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t utter a solitary word. Hell, I couldn’t even see things. I was cold. I’ve a long history of mental illnesses – BD (+ Psychosis — Schizoaffective disorder) and various PDs, so my folks figured out that I must’ve once again yanked some suicidal sh_t when I didn’t answer their calls. I guess they must’ve checked the locked medicine cabinet to find out that the pills were missing from it, and the lock was picked. They stormed into my room only to see me half-alive, half-dead. I was soon rushed to the emergency room. Gastric lavage was carried out. Ewald tubes were let down my entrails. Cannulas and tubes all over – IV and NG tubes. Oh, did I mention fecal incontinence? Pathetic. That was a nightmare. That really was. I’ve pulled through seizures, tremors, and H(a)ematemesis. You might be wondering why I pulled it again. Right? Well, I was so f_cking desperate, and I was actually dumb enough to redo it. I was that desperate to die. I still am. But only now, I’ve learnt the lesson that overdosing on your pills isn’t a cool way to go. It’s painful. It’s humiliating. It’s hardly successful.

Right to die must be a thing. Assisted suicide must be a thing. (Update: Heard from a Swiss friend of mine that it’s actually a thing in Switzerland — Exit, Dignitas presumably offer the services… Why not here?) I know when my mind and body can take no more. I know how it feels to be so mentally f_cked when nothing actually is wrong in your life (or is everything?). I’m convinced that killing myself will be the kindest thing I can ever do to myself. So, I will not stop you with the lame a_s TED talks. However, do not overdose on your psychiatric pills… or try to slit your ulnar or radial arteries, please. I’ve around 30+ sutures on just my left arm, and I’m still alive. Over-the-counter P500/P650s OD in 2017, and I’m still alive — N-AC treatment. Sucks. Maybe I’m just a loser, but that’s for another post! Good day(?)

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GeneralRants

No one sees how kind it is for me

by vangoghest
written by vangoghest

Dying is the kindest thing I can do for myself. I don’t particularly want to, sometimes I wonder if I really was a terrible person, I should stay alive. It’s brutal, and the perfect punishment. I know I can do things with my life. I don’t think low of myself usually, I just am who I am. I’m pretty resourceful, I can make things work. Which is why I’m thinking about this. I can make it work, this is the kindest thing I can do!

I’ve never met someone with the same life story as me. Someone who’s had so many unrelated horrors happen. It makes sense and yes I must just have terrible luck, but I’ve only met people with parts of the story, not all of it. Why? One way or another, they didn’t make it. Dead somehow. Because life will just get worse. If I don’t do this, someone else will. I don’t want to die afraid, no one will care but me, but I don’t want to. I want to make sure my cat makes it to the right place, she’s mean, no one will adopt her and she’s getting older and doesn’t deserve to be randomly put in a strange place. Assuming someone got into my apartment soon enough…

I haven’t figured out what’s wrong with me to encourage really normal people to hurt me. Why so many people will attack/assault me. It’s not like I didn’t learn, it’s not like I’m passive, either. I have a voice, I have muscle. Never mattered. I know it will happen again… people tell me this stuff isn’t my fault and no one will tell me if there’s something that encourages others to steal everything from me. Like… okay. So I can’t stop this? I don’t want anyone to experience this, most importantly, myself. Why should I stay somewhere where I will be victim to insane violence? Do we not tell people who are in abusive relationships to leave? This is just life for me. Why can’t anyone see it’s an act of utmost self respect and love? The kindness? To be in charge of a peaceful passing, knowing everything will be taken care of, knowing I will be safe.

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GeneralMy Suicide NoteRantsSuicidal Survivors

I want to hurt myself, I’m so sad.

by ays_
written by ays_

Hello, I see that this is a site where people share how sad they are and there are some helpful people out there. I hope I can get some nice feedback from others. I want to start off by saying that I am 21 years old. My grandma had passed away and it took a big toll on me. My family too of course, but for me I wanted to die. Ive attempted to kill myself and this sweet genuine old lady passed away and in my eyes it wasn’t her time to go. It honestly should’ve been me. Recently I’ve been kicked out of my house by my parents due to a big fight that went on. To sum that up, it was built up sadness and anger that took over me and I just blew it all at them which ended up me getting kicked out. Most of it was towards my mom..So now, I live with my grandpa. I don’t like living here very much but I got to bring along my dog who I see as my literal life line. He’s honestly my best friend. I never had a good relationship with my mom, I really feel like we always were together so much and it kind of bothered me? Because we never actually got to have a good time, we just always fought even over the littlest things. I was also diagnosed with depression a longtime ago. I overdosed in the summer of 2018 on Benadryl because I was ready to die. It feels like nobody cares about me. That feeling has never left. Not one time.When I overdosed all I got was my family yelling at me. Nothing but them telling me how dumb I am and how selfish I was for trying to kill myself. It made me feel worse and to this day I think about what they said and it makes me feel bad still. I developed a disorder called TTM, also known as Trichotillomania. This developed when I was around 7 years old. Its a hair pulling disorder which causes you go to bald depending how severe your disorder is. Its went away for around middle school and my high school years but unfortunately, it has gotten worse for me AGAIN. When im sad I seem to do it and I only pull the hair from my head so I have such bad scaring and a sensitive scalp because of it. I feel ugly, and seeing my bald spots make me feel uglier. You’d think I’d want to stop but I can’t. Sometimes I don’t even know im pulling until its too late and I have such a big clump of hair next to me. It hurts to see it but I just feel helpless. I get told to take my medicine which I am now taking Fluoxetine, and I feel it doesn’t do much. I get told to up my dosage but that doesn’t seem to do anything for me either, I really have no hope in doing anything. My mom has repeatedly told me that I “wouldn’t be so sad” had I taken my medicine every singled. I PROMISE you, I have and It has not helped me. Ive switched to many different anti depressants and the one that was super effective but in a negative was was Duloxetine. It made me feel no emotion and I was just tired all of the time. Now im back on Fluoxetine and it doesn’t help me either. I’m just so sad and I don’t know what to do anymore. I get yelled at for going out to walk my dog, get yelled at if I go get food for just my dog or just myself, and the people I live with just always want me to bring them stuff when im not able to buy 3 other people things all the time in the household. Ive been saving my money up to get a new place but it always gets depleted because they find a way to make me feel so bad about not spending money on them and its making me even more sad because I feel like just stuck. I started to cut myself again and I want to hurt myself so damn badly and I can feel myself everyday wanting to hurt myself again. I need help but im afraid to be sent away. I’m honestly really at my wits end. I’m about to overdose again. And the only person that I know will care is my dog. It hurts that I don’t want to leave him but I feel like I’m not going to get anywhere with how im feeling. I’m sorry that what I wrote was a lot

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Chronic PainRants

this body means nothing to me at all

by nodira
written by nodira

i drive away the people i love. they lose interest. i destroy myself. all i feel is pain all the time and when i’m happy its naive because it never lasts. ill never last in this world. im 18 now, but i feel like a child still. i cant manage responsibility. i let people down. they’re sick of me. i’m a waste. i build myself up just to crash and burn in the worst way at the very last second. and this fucking pain, why do i hurt so much? i’ve tried so many medications, they don’t seem to work. my intrusive thoughts come, and now with even more intensity. i thought i’d gotten better, that i’d improved, but the truth is i’ve remained the exact same. instead, i’ve just distracted myself with going out and wasting time with “friends” who don’t care for me at all. and now my girlfriend is being weird and ignoring me even though shes active and posting and when i try to confront her shes all defensive and then ignores me even harder and my fucking OCD won’t let me stop thinking for a second. i have to remind myself that she loves me, even though it doesn’t seem that way. i thought i’d finally get valued when i got into this relationship, but the truth is, just like everything else, relationships are temporary highs. everyone will let you down and you will let them down. being alone is what i need to do. i need to shut off my emotions. i need to be a machine. this fucking body is a shell. this body means nothing to me at all.

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General

everything hurts

by NumbExhaustion
written by NumbExhaustion

idk whats wrong with me. no matter what i do nothing is good enough. I have a d in calc and im questioning gender again and march 15 is coming up. i planned to die two years ago on that day and fuck. everything hurts and i wanna relapse and i’ve lost all motivation to stay clean or do anything and fuck. i just want everything to be over.

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Chronic PainCoping SkillsFamily & Friends EffectsI Will SurviveRantsStories of HopeStories of Loss

1115 Days…

by JCITM
written by JCITM

One thousand, one hundred and fifteen days have gone by since we discovered you were no longer a part of this universe, our universe.  It has gotten easier to process but it’s still not easy. The shock of it never ceases. It is still surreal. How can I summarize in words the cluster of pain we feel everyday given your absence?  Let’s see. The reality that you are missing and missed our daughter and son’s 16th birthdays, his phenomenal culinary skills, his dream of becoming a chef and his fascination with living in Japan someday, our daughter’s early high school graduation, 18th birthday, first year of college and her being on the honor roll with a 3.81 GPA and her extraordinary producing and deejaying talents, is saddening.  The reality that you will not be present for other monumental moments in their lives such as college graduations, weddings, births is even more heartbreaking. The thought that our beautiful daughter and handsome son haven’t had a male role model since you left, causes tears to well in my eyes almost every single day. When our son comes to me asking questions only a man can authentically answer, I do my best to fill your shoes but I shouldn’t have to.  When our daughter tells me that a young man she’s dating reminds her of you in the way he protects her, it’s bittersweet. Bitter for obvious reasons and sweet because she at least has someone who, for that moment, is a positive reminder of you. You left us to pick up a million shattered pieces.  You left me to raise two human beings that we created together, on my own and it hasn’t always been a breathtakingly gorgeous emotional walk in the park.  There have been and will be countless nights I shut myself in and weep silently in my pillow so not to cast any more of a crushing burden on our children.  Why couldn’t you have been strong enough to pull through the rough times? Why couldn’t you have in the darkest of hours, seen their four impressionable eyes staring back at you, counting on you to be the protector as you’d always been?  Where did the tragic turn in the journey begin and ultimately end? Why did you let go of this thing called life?  Was there something I could have done or, anyone for that matter, to change your mind? Is it unfair of me to call you weak, curse your ashes and regret the day I met you? Absolutely because obviously, you felt an indescribable hopelessness in which I simply cannot fathom. This tragedy has taught me, albeit a process, not to project so much but to lead with compassion, understanding and empathy.  One never knows how rough someone’s terrain is until they too walk on that very terrain in that someone’s shoes. Just because there’s a smile on someone’s face doesn’t always mean their spirit shares that very sentiment.  Who am I to judge you? Will I still have my moments of anger, sadness, confusion and a whole bunch of feelings and emotions I sometimes choose not to control just so I can allow myself to feel organically, versus distract myself and become numb? The answer is a resounding yes. I’m human and I’ll always wish you were here to see our babies, who are now young adults.  Watching them triumphantly maneuver through this cold world we live carrying the legacy of you not being here on their backs, assures me they are resilient and in time, they will be just fine.  They are truly champions and my hero and heroine. I cannot help but acknowledge and credit you though for most of what you instilled in them during the brief time you had in their world, which contributed to the stand up and strong human beings that they are. Thank you for that because outside of God’s love, those very attributes are the things that have enabled them to keep moving forward and upward, even when the light is so dim at the end of the tunnel.  Not a day goes by in which we don’t share a story and/or a laugh about you and despite it all, you are terribly missed.  I know that it will never be easy but each day, it will get easier.  Continue to rest in peace.   

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Hi, I’m blue

by blue.
written by blue.

Hi guys, I finished ‘My heart and other black holes’ a few minutes ago. I was reading it second time. Why? Because I feel so bad. I know that I have a lot of mental health problems… yeah… who haven’t here… but sometimes is worse. You know this time in your life (day, week, month) when you feel worse. Worse than normal. I don’t know what I want to say in this post. Maybe I need some space to write about my feelings. I study abroad in London from September. That was my dream, this is my dream. I had been thinking about it since primary school and now I am here. I should be happy propably, yeah… but I am not, not at all (and sorry my English sometimes sucks but I try my best okay xD). I am on good Uni, I have friends (here not many but I have not problem with meeting new people and I have a lot of friends from my country so we can write on Messenger all the time), I like my body/face/apparence, I have a lot of plans for my future- I know what I want to be. So why I am not satisfied? Why I feel so blue? I cry and think about comitte suicide a lot. But I don’t wanna die. Because if I die I won’t be able to realize my plans. I’ll never be satisfied.

blue.

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