The beginning of 2016 was when I got myself together and had my three beautiful children full time I was working as well. I shelters many people family or not and fed the mouth of people who talked bad upon me. I’ve never been the perfect mom sister daughter but I always made sure everyone was good and taking care. October of 2016 was when I experimented with a certain drug. No the drug did not ruin my life but it changed me as a person. The same month landlord told me I could not renew my lease because another lady needed a place to stay with her children so I have been homeless since November 1st of 2016. I found out I had a warrant for my arrest because they subpoenaed me to go to court for child support case I opened on my sons dad. I had to work that day and we were already short on money and I figured to take care of my children me going to work was a better choice. My drug usage started getting heavier when I had to send my kids to my grandparents house. I have been going from hotel to hotel and finally lost my job because they found out I had a warrant. I had to Resort to prostitution to provide for my kids and my family. I slow down on my drug usage so I could focus on living a better life. Even through my struggle I made sure my family and my friends we’re taking care of. I have no help for myself and don’t know how to cope with what’s going on. I failed as a mother a daughter and a sister. I have no reason to live. Everyone in my life has been a blessing or a lesson and I always learned a lesson instead of finding someone who was my blessing. I can’t even care for my kids like a real mom so what’s the point of living. Being a single mom is tough but I can’t provide for them or myself. If you knew more about my life you probably feel the same way too. I’m 22 years old and have fought a tough battle. They say God wouldn’t give you more than you could handle but I have reached my limit. Thank you to everyone who has made a positive impact on my life and I pray I have made a positive impact on at least one person’s life. That is my story of 2016 the eye-opening year. Thank you for reading.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I’ve committed crimes that I dare not mention (I don’t feel like having the police at my doors), but just think of the three worst crimes you can think of, and I can assure you I’ve done them. (in case you can’t think of any, here’s a few: murder, rape, drugs).
I know people say things like, “It’s never too late” or “Just because you feel like you’re a burden doesn’t mean others see you that way”. I simply do not think those sayings apply to my life. Can you honestly say that the world wouldn’t be a better place without a murderer? Can you really say that you think a rapist deserves another chance? How many drug addicts do you know that have recovered and actually contributed something to humanity?
So I ask, what do people think of my situation? Is it better for everyone if I end my life?
I’ve left my boyfriend… i’m still addicted to coke…
I’m really moving on… trying to take another step…
But i’m still dead inside
Somedays i just really want to die…
No reason to be too depressed…
But also no reason to be happy at all…
Right now i’m thinking of hanging myself on a sheet…
I’m sad… i’ve found a job, i’ve found someone who likes me…
My only struggle is with alcohol and coke
Don’t have a reason to use drugs or to drink so much…
I don’t know if i’m gonna be happy someday
I want to disappear , i want to die… i just don’t want to be me
Well… I’m a Brazilian boy, 18 years old (English is my second language, but i’ll try my best here.)
My first attempt of ending my life was in 01/01/2014, i tried taking antidepressant pills, i’ve ended up in the hospital for 3 days… my father commited suicide when i was very young, my mother never talks to me, when i was 7 years old i was abused by an older boy… later on i’ve became homossexual… no one knew about all this shit ’til 2 years ago…
i’ve dated a boy who is trying to help me now, i think sometimes that he’s the only person i have…
i’ve became a cocaine addict, an alcoholic… and a self-harmer (my left arm have several scars of cuts and cigarette burns )
I’m not sure of anything anymore, i am feeling like a waste of time for everyone… i really don’t want to make anyone sad…
But i’m tired of living this way…
I think i’m gonna hang myself, i just can’t take it anymore
I don’t know how many time i’m gonna last…
I guess that writing this is my last resort…
Like everyone else i’ve always wished to be happy… I can’t deal with this pain any longer
I feel like i’m dead inside… just numb…
No purpose, No reason to smile, and almost completely out of hope…
I don’t want to be like my dad… But i don’t know if i can avoid it anymore…
I live the same routine of alcohol and coke almost everyday…
I’m sick of all of this.
I am drinking a beer. I have dried tears on my distant face. I am reminded of the most severe pain I’ve ever experienced. I have glimpsed into my father’s mind and seen a tiny bit of the damage that relentless emotional damage, drugs and physical pain were causing him: before he decided that he did not want to deal with any of it anymore. “…made me turn to drugs and use the needle and my drug addiction to destroy myself..” “Makes me want to be left alone and not bothered by people.” “My moods are usually controlled by how often I think of my past and childhood. I am usually in a down mood and I do not get excited anymore about anything.” “I have past the point where I can help myself out of my depression…” And lastly from a different letter he wrote: “I will try to do what is right for the rest of my life and with my wives help and an excellent doctor and God watching over me I will continue to live.” – (My Dad’s Name)
I am blogging because I too struggle with depression. I have decided to deal with my ongoing grief by writing about it this time.
A psychologist gave me a booklet for ‘the bereaved’ to inform me on what I would feel in the coming weeks/months/years. Seeing as every time I start to read the shitty booklet I bawl my eyes out, I’ve decided to write about what I am feeling and hope to feel in the coming weeks/months/years. I hope that in writing this, others who may find themselves in a similar disastrous situation can get some sort of comfort in knowing that shit luck affects a lot of people.
First of all, my boyfriend committed suicide. We were at my house arguing, it was an ongoing insecurity fight that we had been having for three days prior. He was irrational and paranoid but very serious – and didn’t show real emotion. On this particular day I had had enough and told him to leave. Once he left I thought, “this is stupid, we are literally fighting over nothing” so I ran down the street after him and tried to talk some sense to him. I lost my temper and walked home. After half an hour at home I couldn’t sit still and B wasn’t answering my calls so I jumped in my car and drove further down the street – no B… I did a U-turn and saw him standing on the bridge looking down. I parked my car and thought “ok, oh shit, he’s staring at the road, what am I going to say to stop him, I need to show him I love him” so I walked over to B and went to wrap my arms around him in a hug but he pushed me back so forcefully I almost cried. It was as if he was pushing his hurt on to me and it didn’t physically hurt but it broke my heart. I followed him and couldn’t stop him. He told me to go away and I said I was here so he wouldn’t kill himself. He said, “I’m not going to kill myself” and crossed the road and started running. I don’t know why but that was a comfort to me, I didn’t think he was going to kill himself so when he said he wasn’t going to I thought he must just be angry and he will just run to the train station. But I still wanted him to talk to me. I started to jog, running after my athlete boyfriend was a no-brainer, I needed to pace myself if I was actually going to follow him. Mind you, I was bare foot while he had canvas shoes on so when he crossed the road again to lose me and started running on the bitumen, I stopped and sighed – I gave up. I walked back to my car with a huge feeling of defeat and helplessness. He is so stubborn! I couldn’t stop him.
What they don’t give you is a booklet on how to identify a psychotic episode. There’s no guide on how to help your depressed boyfriend who is addicted to ice. And after he’s committed suicide there is no “It wasn’t your fault” pamphlet. But there are people like me, who go through hell and come back with a story that can shed light on the devils of earth. So here is my advice for anyone in a relationship with someone who has a drug problem –
- If you’re significant other has confessed to you that they have a drug problem GET THEM HELP. I can’t stress that enough. My boyfriend confessed to me and I straight away Googled the effects of ice and the webpage said: “The only way to get off ice is to go cold turkey”. Yes, correct but they left out that it’s bloody hard to just wake up and decide “I’m gonna stop taking ice”. Ice grabs you and doesn’t let go. I honestly believe the only way my boyfriend was going to be rid of ice would have been a) an epiphany that told him to get help or b) was forced into rehab (and even then, if he didn’t want the help it wouldn’t have worked). I was naïve…like I said; I didn’t have a booklet on how to help a drug user. I literally told B “please don’t take ice anymore” and he said “ok” and so I believed he wasn’t doing it anymore. But trust me he didn’t want to, he told me several times that he didn’t “need” drugs anymore, he could see the damage it was doing… so why did he continue to? Because he was addicted!!
- If they are religious, go to church with them and make it a thing. My boyfriend was brought up as a member of the church of Jesus Christ of latter day saints and was a strong believer but didn’t go to church because he felt that he wasn’t ready – because of his lifestyle. I’m not religious but I believe that he needed God. He needed a purpose. People with a drug dependency need a sense of hope and religion can be a bright ‘light at the end of the tunnel’.
- Don’t watch movies where they do drugs
- This is probably advice that will get me in trouble but drugs can make your partner have outbursts when they are in an argument. With B, everything was exaggerated when he was high or coming down, so when we would fight he would be uncharacteristically nasty and when he was sad, he was the saddest person ever and when he was happy, he was bloody over the moon. So my advice is, if they are ripping in to you – let them. Let them put all their anger on to you – and then go and find a relationships councilor. Never answer back because when they are in that frame of mind, nothing you say will change their mind for the positive. I found in most cases, he needed to release his anger and then he would be fine and feel embarrassed about all the things he said in anger.
- In saying that – if you guys are having an argument every weekend, it could be a clue that your partner is taking drugs (or you’re really not meant to be together). B and I started out in the most perfect relationship right up until about 3months of dating when we had our first fight over something so small, in hindsight if I had the ‘how to help a drug user’ booklet, I would have seen the signs. We would fight almost every weekend, and then every Tuesday, like clockwork, we would be back together. We would hang out on Friday, Saturday he would go to his mates (and I’m assuming) get high, then Sunday we would fight, Monday he would be sad and Tuesday we were back together and better than ever. I told myself it was because we were getting to know each other. He would push me away and later in the relationship he said it was because he wasn’t good for me and that he was a bad person – so clearly the drugs talking! He was an amazing person deep down but the drugs altered his mind and he did bad things to get drugs.
- Don’t try and play mind games with someone battling a drug addiction
This leads me to my next part of advice. In my story, there are two baddies, drugs and the second is depression or mental illness. There is one important thing I would like to instill in every single person – in the world (if I could) and that is – depression is a CHEMICAL IMBALANCE in the brain! Just as your pancreas not working anymore causes diabetes, something in your brain not working anymore causes depression!! Medical terms aside, both illnesses need medication to keep your body/mind under control! My boyfriend was apparently diagnosed with depression at an early age but didn’t want to take medicine for it. He told me it was because he didn’t want to live the rest of his life taking medicine and that he was smarter than that. Fair point but that compromise meant he lived the rest of his life with a skewed idea of himself and was consequently miserable enough to take hard drugs which lead to his brain telling itself to jump off a bridge. So advice for anyone in a relationship with someone suffering from depression:
- Get them medicine or book them in with a psychologist. Urge them to try medication because chances are it could make them feel a whole lot better! And if not, try a different type.
- In the drug section I mentioned religion but I want to point out that if you’re dating a person with drug addiction and depression, understand the line between religion and science. Yes its nice to believe that there is a higher power but we are still made up of chemicals and weird stuff that means we are destructible. When we die we eventually disintegrate – even if we go to heaven, its not a holiday, you will NEVER see your friends/family (any famous person) in physical form again because they will be alive and you will be either in the ground or floating around where no one can see or hear you. Life doesn’t get better once you die. But life has a huge chance of getting better if you don’t die. In religion families believe they will be together in the after life, that’s lovely to believe but a suicidal person that has a hard life on earth is too easily comforted by the idea that they can exit this world and float on up to heaven. That’s destructive! Work hard at a beautiful life on earth and maybe you will be rewarded with a place in heaven – that seems to be a more practical approach.
- Never put them down. Even in a heated argument, never let your big mouth get the best of you. Rule of thumb, if you don’t have something nice to say – don’t say it at all!
- If your partner is on a bridge staring at the road, CALL THE POLICE. Scream that you love them. Scream nice things at them till they start crying and break down in front of you. At least that way they have stopped walking away from you and closer to ‘heaven’.
So those are some of the things I wish someone told me or that I could have read before getting in to a relationship with B.
On Wednesday the 1st of October at 8:30am I got a call from Bs cousin, I saw her name come up and I immediately thought it was B calling me from her phone, because he didn’t have credit. I answered and said “Hey how are you?” It was his cousin who replied with “Hey CJ umm Bs brain dead and we’re going to be turning his life support off”. Worst thing to wake up to ever, no one can beat me on that one. Mum drove me to the hospital where I walked in blotchy faced and dreary. That sounds a lot nicer than what I actually looked like and a whole lot better than how I felt. I walked for ages to the stupid ICU and was let in to Bs room. I saw him lying there motionless and with tabs on his eyes. Tubes up his nose and cotton stuffed in his mouth. I saw a big graze on his arm, which made me think he had been hit by a car. I just wanted to collapse. I couldn’t stop saying sorry. I was just so sorry that I stopped running. Look at him, lying there because I couldn’t get him to come back in to the car with me. I didn’t even try that hard to get him to come back and now he’s brain dead. About 2minutes later a doctor came in and flicked the switch. So effortlessly like he was turning off the light – Brighams light. I stroked his arm for comfort, more for me than him I guess, and his dad put his hand on Brighams chest as it rose and fell with his last heartbeat. For the record – I didn’t see a spirit leave his body and I didn’t feel any warm feeling of comfort. I felt like bashing his heart until it started beating again. I felt like ripping all those tubes out, yelling at the doctor to come and show me Brighams brain and how we were going to fix it. It wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t die. In the car I remember thinking I would ask my dad for a loan to pay for whatever machines Brigham needed to live. I didn’t understand how important your brain is, I just thought you know as long as his heart is pumping he’d be sweet. Stupid brain.
Also I should point out that this was the first time I had met Bs Dad. Also his cousin, who I spoke to on the phone, didn’t like me very much. Plus my mum was there the day I told Brigham to leave. He had gone to her the day before crying and saying that he loved me but he wasn’t the right one for me and he didn’t want to hurt me and he thanked her for making him feel so welcome. So she felt horrible for not seeing the signs. Turns out mum needed the ‘how to help a drug addict’ and ‘how to help someone with depression’ booklets too. He didn’t cry, he didn’t try and have a huge conversation with me like we normally would, he just would not let go of the paranoia and thats what confused me. I had no idea he was going to commit suicide that day. But I guess if i knew he was going to, he wouldn’t have. All in all it was the worst day of my life and im only 21 but I doubt I could have a worse day.
So that’s what happened to me.
Things missing for me (and my mum) that should have happened straight away
- Free counseling
- An explanation of what he did and where
It’s hard because I’m not family. He has the most beautiful family in the world (no exaggeration) and they were there for me 100% but I’m on my own now. The family has each other for support, they also have access to all the information and all of Bs things. Mum can block it out and move on. I’m on my own. I’ve got like a million questions that will probably never be answered and I’ve got a million memories all shared with Brigham… not his family. I’m sitting here heart broken and the family is probably laughing at me saying I’m pathetic for thinking Brigham and I were in love. He told me he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me – that’s all I have to go by now, he aint here to ‘have my back’. And it sucks.
But anyway life sucks some of the time. I’m not writing this for sympathy I’m trying to get my story out so people can learn from it.
I am 18 years old, I am a recovering intervenes drug addict , I was shooting up morphine and oxy cotton when I was 16 resulting in shooting up heroine at 17 , just months ago I came to Nova Scotia to become sober , in all honesty I travelled from one province to another to make some money selling my ass for some cash, it turned bad and I ended up showing on my Aunts doorstep , strung out begging not to send me back to newfoundland. where the depth of my addiction began , Eventually things began to change around here , I would fight consistently with my aunts husband , I would call him names and talk down to him just as he would do the same to me , it got physical once. After that things went down hill , we would fight more often and it would worsen each time, I found myself on sides of highways , women shelters in a strange unknown city I have never been to . I relapsed in June , while staying at a women shelter because I was kicked out.. I relapsed on morphine , very minor compared to heroine, When I relapsed I felt an unusual feeling of remorse rush through me and I wanted out before I slipped back into the dark cracks of needles. My father reported me as suicidal , resulting in a mental health act being placed one me because of my irrational thinking because of my drug induced state , and now I am having my legal human rights slowly be ripped from my grasp , im not mentally unstable , Im just going through life complications , and now recently being diagnosed with bipolar , My uncle and father are trying to make sure ill never be able to legally be on my own , ( this is just out of fear of falling back into my addiction ) but because of there overly intense concern , Im not being put in a corner I cannot bear to be in, I am having my only thing I can call mine and is my freedom , If I don’t soon figure out to show everybody that I am not as I am perceived to be I will be left with no choice but to do as I tried to do before , If I cannot escape this hell legally , I will take the cowards way out . I have attempted this before but was unsuccessful , but I will be sure not to fuck it up this time, now or never right.
I might kill myself. I think I am going to use the “exit” bag method with helium as my choice of gas. I can’t take the constant pain, guilt, worry, and sadness anymore. My parents are so disappointed in me. I am everything they never wanted. Unlike my younger sister, my grades are poor, I’m a drug addict, an overall failure. My dad constantly reminds me about how he refuses to pay for my college expenses since I am such a bad student. Constantly asking me, “Which college do you think you will be accepted into?”, in a rude tone. My dad always makes snarky comments about my future. The thoughts in my head are overwhelmed with hopelessness. I’m scared for what the future has to hold since I apparently am going to have such an unsuccessful one. My “best friend” has so much freedom. She earned it, thanks to her great grades and the multiple honors’ classes she takes. My dad constantly brings up how she manages to achieve such great grades in school and asks me why can’t I do the same. In addition, he mentions how she never would drink or do any other drugs. Little does he know. The reason I put “best friend” in quotation marks is because I don’t know how I can call a person my best friend if their intentions towards me are harmful. Instead of wanting the best for me, she treats everything as if it is a competition between the two of us. As well as putting me down and doing purposeful things that go against my benefit behind my back, she is extremely controlling, selfish, attention-seeking, and mean. Some best friend I got there… another contributing thought to my depression.
Did I mention how OVERWHELMED with guilt I am? Tears roll down my eyes as I remind myself of the harm I have brought to my mother and younger sister. My mother, gosh I love her so much. I wish I made her happy instead of all that I put her through and am currently putting her through. For my birthday which was a few weeks ago (my not so sweet sixteen), she surprised me with two pairs of gold earrings. One pair is studs, the other tiny hoops. My parents already bought me a two hundred dollar ticket to an upcoming concert (rave) I would be going to and that was supposed to be my birthday present so I was surprised that they even had anything for me. At first I didn’t have any idea how valuable the earring truly were until the next day. While I was putting them on I came across the price my mom forgot to remove from one of the pairs and I saw that she paid $350 for just the studs alone. I just burst into tears. I felt (and still feel) as if I do not deserve them. My mom is such a great person, she deserves a much better life than the one she is having. My younger sister is growing up, trying to fit in, and be the normal middle schooler that she should be. But she is far from normal, thanks to me. All the havoc going on in our household affects her tremendously. She is exposed to her older sister, a role model of what not to be when you grow older. She has caught me in the act of smoking weed in my bathroom and many times high which I know hurts her so much since she does not quite understand the meaning of it all. Basically, she sees me “destroying” myself as my parents may call it. I’m so sorry to her. And to my mom. I’m so sorry for not being the older sister she always needed to support and guide her. Instead I pushed her away, treated her horribly, and put her down so much without even realizing it. I honestly didn’t mean to and if I could go back in time I promise I would change all of my actions. I’m so sorry to my mother who only wanted/wants the best for me and loves me so dearly. She should be proud not hurt. All my fault. All my fault. All my fault. That repeats in my head over and over.
I do not know if anybody actually reads these posts or if anybody actually even cares. This is my first time using this forum, but it would mean a lot if I can get some feedback or if anybody can relate to me or something.
I was 15 when I tried to kill myself. It was march 29th 2011. I had been in a deep depression since I had run away from home a little less than a year prior. My parents were drug addicts and my dad was a felon and a drug dealer. My mom was a paraplegic and a slut who fucked everyone and anyone. My older sister was a sociopath that murdered our rabbits and one of our dogs and tried to kill me with an axe which ended up with a trip to the hospital when I was only 5. Now that we have a tiny bit of background I can continue. I had gained a lot of wait and was skipping school because I was being bullied so much my freshman year. I genuinely only had 2 friends that entire year. I was also on sleeping meds for my insomnia which kept me awake for days and antianxiety meds for my panic attacks I’d have every single fucking day. I was also on antidepressants, guess why. None of these really helped me and I was going to a therapist and a psychiatrist 3 times a week. The funny thing I remember leading up to my suicide attempt was that I told my therapist very clearly that I was indeed going to kill myself. SHE LAUGHED ME OFF AND SAID I WOULD NEVER DO THAT. Jesus I hope that ***** loses her licence for being the most incompetent fucking ‘therapist’ on earth. Anyway, all I could think about was the pain. It was there, every day, every moment, every thought. Oh, of course I was also a heavy cutter, I would cut every day and just watch my blood dribbling down my arms and away. I would carve my fathers name into my arms and use my blood to paint pictures of him because even though he threatened to kill me every time he was home, which was only about once a week, and even though he beat me and my mother, at least he was more of a parent for a little while there when I was younger than my mom ever was. When I was little I just remember her staying in her room all day doped out on pain meds. She would come trying to me after dad beat her and refused to ever leave him after I begged her to. I just felt so fucking helpless because I was just panicky and crying and kind of crazy from lack of sleep and nothing felt like it mattered. I didn’t feel like anyone would ever love me or be there for me or get why I felt this way or understand that yes I am a bit of an aggressive person and I lose my temper and I can be hard to deal with but it’s just because I was around so much fucking craziness and I never got the love or parenting a kids supposed to get. All I’ve ever wanted all my life is for people to see me for who I am and understand me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be close to a friend, I’ve had a few but they never really tried to understand me. I just need to be held and told that I do matter to someone, anyone. Because living in the life of an abusive drug addict just makes you feel absolutely 110% worthless. All I’ve ever wanted was to feel like someone cared, like someone really even wanted me here. I mean really, I know that I’m not special, there isn’t anything about me that is in all reality. I just wish I knew what it felt like to have a dad that loves you or a friend group that cares about you and is there for you or to even just be accepted in group settings. I’ve always been on the outside looking in. Suicide seemed right because I just don’t ever really see it being any different. I try so hard to find people in my life that can give me the love I need to feel like it’s worth it. All I ever wanted was for my dad to love me. Ha ha ha how so cliche, right? But hey, it can’t be helped. As I said, I’m not special.
Sorry for the psychobabel.
so what to do at 37 and now lifes grenade explodes in the form of a car crash? not that is has been rough at all. just fought drug addiction for 20 years. went to prison for almost 8. finally think the pin is back in the device and BOOM! i almost die. 3 months of hospital, i now have 20+ inches of scar tissue and 47 peices of metal in me. cant walk right, left hand is almost useless and im just never going to be the same. Â life is good. i used to say andthink that. i have a new outlook. daily i ponder what the other side will bring. ive seen and been a part of stuff people only dream about. its time to take a rest. regrets? 2, i never got married and have no children. been way too busy being selfish. Guess one last act to finish the book.
Well i want to kill myself. Its been that way for a few years and i mad 1 attempt so far (not recently). If been abused a little as a child, my parents divorced due to my dads drug addiction when i was in 4th grade. I never had a single friend till sophomore year in high school. Every one hated me even tho i was the quiet sit in the corner kid. I was extreamly bullied till high school. The reason im still here is because the 1st friend i made in high school made me think that life is worth living. Eventually i feel hopelessly in love with her and she was my first love even tho she never felt the same. I made some good friends who turned into a somewhat social person.
But when out off the blue sky my friend said goodbye to me because she hated my guts even tho i have never done anything to hurt her at all. She was my closest friend and my first love and just gone like that. I have a girlfriend who i have been with for a while and good friends but i just cant cope with that loss. After events that made me feel horrible following here leaving i honestly dont want to live anymore at all. Shes in my subconscious and in my dreams almost every night. I hate myself, i feel worthless, the thought of living sickens me. Even tho everyone i know would tell me im not and Its been this way for a over a month.
side notes: i hate the thought of institutions, i dont believe in talking to medical professionals and would hurt anyone that come in a truck trying to take me.
Nobody understands why cutting is an addiction. Nobody understands why when I’m angry or sad, my first thought it to bleed, my next is to feed my drug addiction.Â Nobody understands that I’d be able to quit drugs easier than I would be able to quit cutting. I wrote this last night in hopes of trying to eliminate the confusion. I hope this poem is acknowledged.
Have you ever been hurt?
But I donâ€™t mean for real.
I mean the kind that canâ€™t be seen,
the kind only you can feel.
You keep it to yourself
the feelings youâ€™ve come to accept.
But still, every time you look in the mirror
all you see is a fucking reject.
This pain will build
it rises, boils, and burns.
Sometimes it fades away
but often it returns.
Emotions at a maximum,
heartbeats in a rush.
Some only hold so long
before the pain is too much.
With razor in hand,
slowly dragging across skin.
Not bleeding blood,
bleeding pain from within.
Running down your wrist
with the rest of your filth.
Not trying to die,
but just trying to live.
To ease a secret struggle
because you donâ€™t want yourself to give.
In minutes, itâ€™s gone,
comfort as tears run dry.
But when the cuts heal over
everythingâ€™s stuck back inside.
They canâ€™t be contained
they always need back out.
The lust, the euphoria,
fixing the pain nobody knows about.
The need never disappears,
it’s not something you out grow.
But unless youâ€™ve been a cutter,
theyâ€™re feelings youâ€™ll never know.
I have survived abuse, car accidents, living in gang riddin, drug-dealing neighborhood as a child, being married to a cop and having him take my kids and do weird/mind fuck type things to get back at me for leaving him, jail, drug addiction, homelesness, being outcasted from any blood family I new of (I didn’t grow up knowing family really). IDK I’ve been through a hell of alot and all I hear from people that I am strong and what am I gonna do with my life. “I have soo much potential” I’m told.
I’m sick of being here. I am sick of the ups and downs. I am sick of the PTSD. I am sick of always being alone. I am sick of wanting to be alone. I am sick of life. Like how much more Universe? Seriously how much more will you put on my shoulders to bear? I am tired. I am tired and I am tired of always having to fight to survive, to keep on going. I get a little momentum up and everything switches up on me. Another curve ball. Why is who ever it is making life so hard on me. I’ve been called an Angel by more than 1 person. How is it I can be so helpful or whatever to others and feel so helpless to myself? Is this my purpose…to go through shit so others won’t have to. And to just keep taking it. I’m tired…IDK what else to say here now. It’s hot outside people in my ghetto ass apartment complex are BBQing and getting high. And I just want to slip away into the abyess. Please let something happen to change my life circumstances. Or is it all about ‘perspective’?….blah blah blah
Its not even like I’d care .. Almost everythings gone anyway . I had my parents taken away when I was 2 because of drug addiction . All my biggest hopes and wishes were taken away when I was 8 and I realized “mommy” & “daddy” don’t think I’m any more important than their drugs and new boyfriends/girlfriends . When I was 11 , leuchemia took my grandma from me . This past winter my past caught up with me . All my memories started rushing back and I started acting differently . Because I’d changed so much , all my friends were taken from me too . I’ve had a lot of crushes recently . Because of the scars and all the eating I’ve been doing , any beauty I’ve ever had is virtually gone too . No boys find me funny or pretty or desirable .
I have days where everything is fine , and I can laugh and love my life .
I also have days like today where I’m arms reach from grabbing those scissors and ending everything . But the truth is I’m scared , so the cuts I make are small ones . I don’t wanna have my life taken away too .
Can someone help me ? I truly hate my life . I wanna numb all my pain somehow . I want everything I’ve ever lost back .