each and everyday is a part of my history, a history that will be with me forever. unfortunately, i know that forever, i am going to look back on these years of my life and all i’m going to see will be an ugly kid with mental illnesses and no friends, just, wasting her life away. i want my history, i want my past, present, and future, to be happy, i want to do something worthwhile rather than just doing this wasting. uhm, yeah… this is not really what i imagined my life would be like.
Again it is another refusal. Another No!! This time though it’s a no without a strong reason. It’s just a repeat of old information.
WE DON’T BELIEVE YOU. YOU DON’T HAVE PROBLEMS. YOU MUST BE LYING. YOUR LIFE SEEMS FINE. GO HOME NOW.
After much ado, I have been shot again. I fought with my last ounce of strength and feel I can go no further. I have people supporting me but I have let them down. I am paranoid, stressed, in pain, frustrated, angry, and just destroyed. How can something without form have a form. I am nothing but I exist still.
I saw my solicitor today. Judicial Review is a possibility but where am I to find the funds. I’m not allowed to work, I have no savings and have not expensive goods to sell. So I am stuck in my situation. I am stuck again with no end in sight. I cannot see through those thick walls that blanket me but this brings a choking feeling to it. The air has been sucked out of the void and I cannot breathe. Even now, I struggle to breathe.
I found this website by chance. In a desperate attempt to regain my focus I thought perhaps find someone who feels the same as you are right at this moment. You might not be able to find them outside because it’s almost midnight so find someone online.
The storm within rages on. It demands for blood. My blood. It says to me “If you had succeeded in ending it all when you were younger, this pain wouldn’t have carried on for this long”. This is true. This is very true.
Shall I tarry a little longer? Will my pain ever end?
I’ve never believed this before.
So naive of me.
Naive enough to settle around with the idea that people are to be trusted and to be humbled the fact that they will always keep you sane.
Never believed in such saying until friends turn to enemies and laugh turns to frowns and until then when my heart has been shuttered by the awful truth that friends can be a sharp tool towards the breaking of your own sound mind.
And so when i felt my world crushing down, I came to the standing ground of believing that the only one you can trust is yourself.
even though i’m an awkward introvert with social anxiety, i miss people. i miss being around people.
i’ve come to realise i’ve never really had a true friend, so, i can’t say i miss having friends. i don’t really know what it’s like to have friends. the idea doesn’t appeal to me much anymore. maybe, i miss the idea of them. the idea of a boyfriend is more appealing, which is weird, i know.
the idea of having someone i can expose myself to, and let them truly know me like no one else knows me, is bittersweet to me. it must be so… amazing, to love someone and have them love you back. all of you, all the bits and pieces you choose to expose to them and the bits that they discover themselves anyway. but, i’ve never had that, and it looks like i never will have that, which is the bitter part.
i’m the only person who knows me. who knows me inside out. and, that’s sad to me. if anything ever happened to me, no one would know the real me. i want to have people in my life who deserve to know the real me. i want to have people, or just one person, in my life that we can expose all aspects of ourselves to eachother, that we can love eachother so deeply, that we can rely on eachother no matter what.
i’m not just lonely, i’m alone. i’m so alone, and, i don’t want to be alone anymore. people need people. i need people.
i’m developing weird feelings for my friend. I really like him, but I can’t tell if he feels the same..
i’ll leave it for now. nothing good comes of feelings like these, or confessing them.
I just wish I didn’t catch romantic feelings for every person who is nice to me. it’s kinda pathetic.
I just.. guess I’m so starved for love, I latch onto anyone who shows any affection towards me (platonic or otherwise)
I’m tired. I’m so tired. maybe something good will be brought on by tomorrow.
Hello guys! I haven’t used this website in 2 years and seeing my older posts are quite a strange experience. I came here in 2014 because isolation and depression pushed me to the edge, rock bottom, or whatever. Started feeling depressed 10 years ago! It’s my Sadniversary and I thew up my birthday cake. My birthday was wednesday and I had a violent indigestion, because why the hell not. Well this feeling persists, yet again. The reason I’m here today is because even if I do feel this pain, this need to die, this very heavy weight of self shame and being worthless, it is not the same as it used to be. I wish my story could light some hope for all of you who will read this. Because sometimes things do get better, and when depression comes back, and it does, you don’t feel as hopeless as before.
During 2015 I had the incredible chance to find an app that connected me on the phone with a Listener who had a minimum of experience in psychology. I fucking hated the thought of a helpline and honestly believed I would never do that. Life events made it such that I ended up having multiple panick attacks and I found out that talking to someone was very helpful. The service was free and I became known over there by the staff as I would call very randomly and increasingly often so I knew everybody. I always thought phone lines were so cold and empty, I would think ” the only reason you talk to me like you care is because that’s what you’re paid for” ( they weren’t volunteers). But I went for it! At first I had to go through a lot of awkward first talks but time passed and the more I got the same person frequently the more we could connect. I would have never ever expected them to share their personal stories with me the way they did and without me asking for it. They felt simply comfortable, it was like a dream to even think it could happen. I braved my social anxiety, my phobia of phone calls and to speak english outloud (Not my first langage). Plus, we couldn’t juge eachother based on anything superficial, only words. I slowly got to build very real , deep and bonding relationships with people who totally didn’t have to, but wanted to. They were so genuinely interested in my story that they saved my life. It took me a whole year of calling sometimes 3 times a day or skip a few days. A whole year to break this certitude that I was unlovable. That I was a pain to be around, that I wasn’t interesting. But I realised that in the past I was mainly surrounded by toxic parents, a toxic narcissist “best friend” who would belittle me as much as possible and other kids my age. I felt like an outcast because I was very observant and analytic so I understood many things people were unaware of. I was too mature for people my age, but too young to be taken seriously by adults. But this time, it wasn’t a case of superiority, of prouving one’s self. I layed out who I was in all sincerity, I wasn’t looking to hide my imperfection or make them like me. Because this is what I used to do constantly trying to change me to fit what people wanted so I felt included. But for once in my life time my difference was celebrated by people I really admired. Unfortunately the free service was unsustainable and they had to shut down. The thing is that they are strictly forbidden for legal reasons to keep in touch with me. So all at once I had to lose about 10 people that were the most significant people I have ever encountered. One of them, Paul, has been a mentor, a guide, and a friend to me. He touched me in a way I can’t explain with his own life and struggle that he gave me the strenght to try and get better. and I slowly gained back some mental energy to be able to face the unbearable and look at who I was, stripped from all mental blockage and just see the perfect imperfection we all are. I recorded our last calls and some were crying, telling me they’ll miss me, or that I have inspired them to make changes in their life as well. To know that I have possitively impacted someone who gave me so much is a though I will cheering forever. Finding them gave me hope, opened my mind to new things and to look out for synchronicities and to live in line with who YOU are. To have the strenght to put my feet down and be able to really believe that I have as much right to be myself than all of you and that if it makes you unhappy because you cannot face your own self, then I decide to not carry your judgment in me. I had never encountered my personnality without depression, and at 20 years old I had to start undoing the wrongs and to let go of pain I held inside of me, that I nurtured so bad because i had nobody. I still find myself in this situation today, but now I have hope. This thing was so unexpected in my life of utter bullshit prior to this and I just wanna say that things like this could happen to you to. Maybe the next thing that will change your life is right around the corner but you can’t look at past experiences to determine the hopes of something to happen. The futur doesn’t work like that. I overcame my shadow and now I have to continue to work had to not let my mind slip. I have eternal grattitude for this. And none of this would have happened if I stuck to my belief that helplines were useless. Try things that make you do something new that you are afraid and vulnerable. Do it anyway. This will help you so much to get out of patterns.
I wish you all the best. You are a being who is equally important however you feel
i have no friends.
i haven’t attended school for two years.
my family are abusive.
my life is a mess, and i can’t clean it up.
i have nothing going for me,
and i am going nowhere.
i’ve ruined myself and my life.
today, i brought home my new kitten.
he is so small, and so sweet – and currently unnamed. i’ll update this post and tell you his name when i have chosen it.
update: his name is axle.
I am 16 and in a week I’ll be 17.
Today my dad spoke with my teachers and talked about how I’m doing in school (grade 11).
The usual stuff they say:
• I’m quiet
• I sit alone (in some classes)
• I don’t participate in classes
those kind of things.
My teachers also said how bad I’m doing. And my parents didn’t react that well.
My dad is pissed at me.
And my mum hates me. She always says that “I’m useless” and that “no one will hire me for a job” and that “I’ll be picking up garbage and living on the streets.” And she’s always adds that “I’ll be dead and I won’t have to see you suffer.”
It hits me hard and usually I wait til she cools down and make her talk about something else when we’re having a conversation.
But lately, she has been ranting about me and how I’m a failure.
And she is right.
That’s why I hate myself. I’m too scared to commit suicide but I always think about killing myself. I almost cut myself once, but that would be bad if people ever found out. So I just cry at night and when I’m mad I clench my fists and take deep breaths until it goes away.
I know my mum secretly hates me. She dislikes me at the very least. But I know she wishes I was more than what I am. I think she wishes I was more like my cousin. My cousin is a good example of what she wants me to be. She is only a few months older than me and we are fairly close. My cousin is doing well in school, has a job, volunteers at Salvos, she is pretty, goes to a youth group, is confident, etc.
But I am completely opposite. I am failing school. I never had a job, and I would get one, but I’m ugly and fat, thus my mother saying, “no one will hire you” and that I’m “fat”. I don’t go out often and I’m shy. I have lost a little weight, but not fat. I was fasting the other week and barely ate anything, but I stopped because I heard I could gain more weight from fasting. I’m shy and quiet but I try to talk to other students but they seem to not pay any attention to me. I have friends but most of them drifted away or barely talk to me. I’m the person who walks behind everyone and gets left behind and doesn’t get invited to hang out.
I know people who have it worse, and I was tempted to go to the school counsellors once, but I never did. No one ever notices me, but when they do, they see nothing or look at me with disgust.
I have to push those suicidal feelings away, but one day, I know I won’t be able to handle it anymore.
Long story short im dieing, not actually dieing but spiritually and mentally. I dont feel alive among other things. The only thing I wanted in life was this friendship with a friend and we became really good friends. My happiest moments was when we were hanging out and i dont mind that my life was completely falling apart. Some shit happened that was out of my control but we stopped being friends and i tried to kill myself for 2 months because I had never felt so alone. I didnt really have anyone else or anyone I cared about. I stopped because we started being friends again but were not as close as we used to be. I’ve asked a few times if we could hang out but its clear that they’re not to comfortable with just hanging out together. They know about everything I went through and how depressed I would get so it’s not like they dont deeply know me. I told him mostly everything. its just im still crying in my room writing suicide notes and trying not to cut myself again. I feel alone and dont expect to live very long. Im honestly just waiting for my next “suicidal episode” so I can finally end everything, i already have everything worked out. Im just wondering if I should open up to them again and let them know what this friendship meant to me :(. Im suffering and hate life. I dont want to be pushy because alot of things happened but im tired of crying in my room. Whats the worst that could happen? We stop being friends again? I’d probably just kill myself but im already expecting to kill myself so who cares at that point. I have nothing in life and the only thing that I had/cared about was this friendship.
Maybe i’ll just keep carrying on like I have so I dont fucking bother people anymore. So i can just go when im finally ready instead of making other peoples lives worse.
My suicide note. I’m still working on it. I’m still waiting for help even though I know I’m only fake hoping. I don’t have a purpose anymore. Living is a torture every single day. I set myself a date. I planned everything. I’m pretty hopeless.
Anyways. Here you go, enjoy? I don’t know. Do whatever you want to do with this:
Hey. It’s me. I’m that shitty girl who killed herself because she’s a weak-ass depressed kid who’s only great at complaining and seeking for attention. You probably heard about me now, you’re probably gossiping about it. Anyways, I’m writing this letter because soon enough I’ll be gone. And soon enough drama will come, people will care, blaming themselves for not caring at all. Soon enough, people will question everything, and ask why. Oh wait, not soon enough. I forgot, I’m already dead, has drama started yet? How’s it? Don’t worry okay? This is going to be fun, we’re going to get through this. Word by word. Letter by letter. I’m going to tell you, why I ended my life. You see, I experienced the worst pain. A pain you could never imagine how hurtful it is. Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. A pain that caused me to say that it’s easier to end my life, than live a life I never wanted, a life that I didn’t choose. The life that made myself… me. What do you expect me to do? How do I react if I never felt like my life is worth living?
So hey, I know some cared. I may hate myself, maybe I’m quite stupid, maybe what they say is indeed true. But I think people actually cared, just not enough. Is that right? Well, forget it. I will never know anyway, well literally because you can’t tell me after, I’m still dead. You see, I hate not knowing what to believe anymore. I hate not knowing what’s real. Maybe I just wanted someone to actually care and maybe that someone, approach me for once, and say, “Hey, are you going to kill yourself? Please no, please I care. Please don’t do that. I’m not going to leave you until you beat this.” Well, I guess that’s not gonna happen. It’s never gonna happen. In reality, it’s only my words anyway. To be honest though, someone actually said something similar, but they didn’t stay, they didn’t actually cared. They lend me a hand, the next day they thought everything was already fine. There’s no drama, therefore they let me fall. They said they miss me, but never made an effort to contact me, to ask how I’m doing?. I’m always the one who approaches them. They never knew what’s going on with my life, they never knew me at all. Isn’t that right friends? Bullshit. Lies.
People are stupid. I know I am too, but when it comes to reality and not just those shit they teach at school, they’re hopeless. You guys never understood suicide, you never will. Not until you become one like me and end up being a fucked-up, am I right? You think just because I don’t have a big reason to kill myself, just because I don’t have cancer or whatever shitty worse problems other people have, they’re the only ones that has the right to suicide. That only they’re allowed to use a rope, a gun, or a blade to kill themselves. It’s not how it works. Suicide doesn’t work like that. You can’t expect me to have the same tolerance level as yours. I have my own tolerance of pain too. Just because you didn’t felt what I felt, just because you see my pain as a small problem, doesn’t mean you’re stronger than I am?. I see it as something so hurtful. Depression is a silent killer. It doesn’t mean that if you can’t? see or feel it, it isn’t there. No, you can’t call me weak just like you fucking did. Like what you guys fucking did just because I’m scared of the pain. You can’t call yourself strong just because you can live your shitty life and that others like me decided to end theirs too. That I decided to end mine. It makes you a fucking coward. It makes you an asshole. You have no idea how much I tried to fight before I even gave up. You never knew me, you only see me as someone who lost a fight. The same as how you fucking called? me stupid, you guys don’t know how hard I was trying. Instead of helping me you guys decided to call me stupid. Shouted at me. Embarrassed me in front of the class. ‘Teachers’? Yeah right. But hey I can’t blame you though, instead, I’m going to live up with the title stupid. Oh wait, not live up, because I’m dead. I died, I died with the label stupid. They will remember me as a stupid piece of shit, a pain in the ass. Thanks for helping me destroy everything, my confidence, myself. I learned that I really am hopeless, I know that now.
You see (*insert names*). When people are different; More specifically, different from you. You instantly think they’re a disgrace, a thing that you can just throw around not knowing they have feelings too. That when, for example, a girl fucking had sex with someone in her teenage years, they’re already a slut. And if they don’t agree with you, you immediately label them as, assholes and ignorants. The funny thing is though, you guys are one of the most ignorant assholes I’ve ever met. Wake the fuck up, you’re not the basis of normality. People like you don’t deserve to be praised. You are no different from people who actually killed somebody. You won’t get anything from backstabbing, you won’t get anything from bullying others. The moment you judged other people; that moment when you judged me. You killed my soul. You killed my individuality. You killed me. Society killed me. You guys kill suicidal people. You destroyed me just because I was being myself.
I killed myself because nobody made me feel alive. Nobody saved me from dying, you didn’t try hard enough. When you guys are killing me, when I was dying. It just never stops. The worst thing is though, it also gets worse every second. Don’t worry. You guys aren’t alone, the world itself is a fucked up. You guys see me as a happy little shit. I smiled at you, told you how my day ‘went well’. I even tried approach you when you were fucking sad and cheer you up. Some pushed me away but that didn’t stopped me from helping, from being friends with you. You even saw my biggest smile, heard my loudest laugh. I’m quite disappointed to see on how stupid you are. You never saw me behind those. Did you even care? Because I’m a lonely ass person who relied on my fake friends. You don’t even know me, you never asked how I’m doing. You never tried to contact me just to fucking catch up. You miss me? Fuck you. You never knew what was going on with me. You never knew I’m depressed, you were supposed to be there when I needed it. You were supposed to call me because I was suicidal or because I was cutting myself again, because I was fucking attempted so many goddamn times to end my life. Oh, you didn’t know that? I never knew what to do or how to deal with depression. You were supposed to help me but nobody bothered to. Isn’t that what friends are for? Family then? No? Well I know what exactly friends are for. You aren’t friends. I’m so fucking lucky to even find real friends across the world. They’re fucking across the world, countries away from me. But I trust them more than you guys. And I never trusted anyone for so long because you broke my trust. You broke my spirit. Now you care because it’s too late. Now tell me if I’m still your laughingstock. But don’t worry, I don’t give a fucking damn anymore. I tried to understand you, because I know behind your attitude are people in their shitty lives. I tried to understand you guys, if I didn’t, then you probably end up like me. And you have no idea how painful it is.
Sometimes I wonder if really did wasted my life, if I should’ve done this sooner. Because right now, society is a mess. Society is an asshole. Everyone is an ignorant. If you knew that someone is gay, you immediately criticize them, and laugh at them for being themselves. You make the word ‘gay’ feel like it’s an insult. And quote something like they will go to hell because god told them not be gay, because being gay is a sin technically. Nobody seemed to care. If there’s someone with depression asked for help, you see them as just seeking for attention. You will tell them to just get over it, move the fuck on because it’s that easy isn’t it? In the end, if they ended their lives, you now suddenly care, you give ‘sympathy’ towards them because they decided to end the pain. You fucking hypocrites?. You guys care when it’s too late. You only act when it’s over. You’re gonna wait until suicidal people die before you move. And you think this is a phase? You think depression and suicide is phase? Well it’s? not. WAKE. UP. You can’t get over depression. It’s not a shitty ass thing that you can get over with this overwhelming pills that my psychiatrist told me to take. Suicide is real, and you can’t stop it. It always pull you back no matter how hard you try to run. Because you know, it was my problem at first. But unexpectedly, it became my last solution.
A few days ago, a classmate noticed the cuts on my wrist.
Today, a friend of mine saw the cuts too.
I told them it was nothing, that I only got them for being mean to cats (Don’t get me wrong, I love cats.). I know what I said was such an awful thing to say especially when even you can see the truth beyond your own lie. It’s just that I couldn’t quite think of anything to use as an alibi anymore.
I’m afraid sooner, more people would start to notice the slashes on my wrist and think I’m a weirdo, or worse they might think I’m someone trying to get the crowd’s attention. What I’m even more afraid of is if my parents ever find out about it.
Cutting makes the pain easier but if it will only lead to more of them, shall I stop?
I should. I know more than anything that I should stop. But even so, I know I can’t. It’s like oxygen. Essential. Refreshing. Life-sustaining. Addicting.
Now, I do not know what else to do.
I couldn’t blame the cuts on my wrist for being so noticeable.
I couldn’t blame my friends if they ever find out about the cuts someday and overreact.
I couldn’t blame anyone else for being the reason why I cut.
I could only blame myself.
What shall I do to hide the wounds?
What shall I do to keep people from knowing how vulnerable I am?
I hope this year won’t take a lot from me.
Just as soon as I thought this school year was gonna be alright. Turns out I was completely wrong.
My so-called bestfriend turned her back towards me. She ignores me like I don’t exist.
One time they played volleyball. One player backed out so my ‘bestfriend’ asked for replacements. i excitedly said “ME!” but the moment I did so, she became disappointed and sad. So I wanted to back out. But then I decided to think “oh maybe it’s just in my head.” Then, before i joined, she was energetic and playing real hard. But as I joined, she became lousy and as if she wanted to stop playing. That made me lose my interest in playing.
Then there was this other time where i was asleep in class. As soon as I woke up, some of them playing a game similar to “how well do you know me?”. The question “Who do you hate the most in this class?” was brought up. This woke me up instantly and i tried listening to it really hard. Then i heard my so-called bestfriend suggest names. I was ok with it, until I heard my name. She fucking mentioned my name. But I didn’t hear what they talked about afterwards. Not that I want to.
They would distance themselves from me like I’m some sort of a virus. I never did anything to them.
Same thing before. The same group of friends backstabbed me and completely ruined my summer holiday. I was so depressed. To the point where I actually considered cutting myself, or possibly hanging myself.
I’ve talked about this to one of my internet friends, but all she could say was ignore those group of friends. I tried. But it didn’t work.
If I did ignore them, they’d think I’m backstabbing them.
What a messed up group of friends.
Chronic PainCoping SkillsFamily & Friends EffectsFun & InterestingGeneralI Will SurviveMy Suicide NoteRantsStories of LossSuicidal Survivors
I feel tired. And it’s no loner a lethargic exhaustion. It is no longer a physical over exhertion due to the lack of calories. I just am tired of everything. I am tired of being the wierdo in my family, friends, at work, and everywhere I go. I am tired of trying to make everyone laugh and happy, and then being called annoying and a fag. I am tired of doing things for people that have and will never be retured. I am tired of people hating me, for being slower than them. I am tired of not being able to unlock my full potential due to my shortcommings as a human being. I am tired of people telling me that maybe I am the problem, specifically the ones who know that I said that, I tried changing, and I then attempted to commit suicide because what they told me was something I know for a fact. I am tired of people lying to me to make me feel better. A) It doesn’t even work anymore, B) Is there really nothing good about me? I am tired of staying quiet to not offend people who wouldn’t do the same. As a matter of fact, they do the opposite constantly. On that same note, I am SICK AND FUCKING TIRED of turning the other cheek. I am sick and tired of not being able to do evil onto others because of the way I was raised. I’m sick and tired of being suck a pitiful subpar human being, that I have to take pills, JUST TO ATTEMPT TO TRY TO STAY NEUTRALLY BOUYANT. Because everyone has giving up on trying to help me float. I am tired of fighting, WHY? FOR WHAT? WHAT IS THERE TO FIGHT FOR? I am tired of the only people who want to help others are those who are also in pain, since the rest of them are unempathic psychopathic cunts. I am tired of giving people chances and overlooking their flaws. I am tired of of being tired all the time because I am never hungry and thus the lack of calories makes me tired. I am tired of being a little *****. I am tired of people thinking that I don’t know how evil they truly are. I am tired of these people not realizing that I am probably the only person who has truly overlooked their flaws and that that is no reason to torment me. I am tired of idiots who i actually hate thinking that I do like them just because unlike their cunty shitty selves, I can be polite to those who I hate and don’t act upon my hate. I am tired of knowing that I am a bastard child of two people who could’ve been sooo succesful had they not been idiots and had sex with out strings attatched. These idiods gave me the worst sicknesses of them all, life and by doing so and bringing me to this specific world they condemned me to death. I don’t understand why they decided mating was a good idea. My mother was SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT. Of all the men she could’ve chosen the one they told her no. I hope she’s happy now, because I sure as hell am not… and I let her know it every time I get the chance. I can’t say I love you anymore. I no longer feel that way. My uncle who kinda had a brain, rancorous till death hates my mother, but “loves me”. That fucker thought he played me into giving him part of my inheritance. If only he knew that as soon as he had the nerve to try to trick me, I deleted him from my love list along with my parents. Ironically, my little cousin, his daughter is probably the only person besides my first friend, that I love. If I wasn’t a fucking fag, I would’ve been with her. I am sick of preferring men over women to a 99 percentile, mainly because I am too much of a chicken shit pussywillow (lol) to make moves on girls. I’m tired of not being cute enough for anyone who I like. I am tired of being so god damned shallow. I am tired of being so stupid. I am tired of me and the circumstances that sorround me. I’m done.
This is not a cry for help. Technically, this is seeking attention, but only in the sense that I wish to speak about suicide without entertaining the notion that someone will attempt to interfere. I just…want to talk to someone who might understand.
heads up everyone, i ramble. i feel nothing and at the same time i have so many thoughts that i cant think, so this is basically emotional throw-up. read it. or dont. im mostly just putting my thoughts down so that i can understand them better myself.
i was angry and sad today, as i often am, and stumbled across this site. whoever started it, kudos to you, because its nice to talk to people who understand, rather than broken records saying ‘dont be depressed, be happy’. lovely, i will just do that then. oh wait, i dont know how. its not a simple thing, though it seems like it would be. we are, after all, in control of our emotions, right? nah. humans have been dependent on other humans since our beginning, whether we like it or not. i am dependent on my mother which is like a slap to the face, because im pretty sure she is why i am like this. if i tell her how depressed and lonely and awful i feel, and the thoughts that i have been thinking, she say’s theres something wrong with me. no duh, mother, yet you refuse to ease up on me. i know everyone has stress in their lives, and there is no such thing as control over it. there are only outlets to relieve it. when you dont have outlets, no matter how much and what kind of stress you have, that is when the situation gets bad. but i dont have outlets; i have escapes. i dont know how to let go of the bad, i just know how to overlay it with good for a short little while. a temporary fix to my depression, but temporary is temporary, and i cant escape forever. when im done being temporarily happy, i feel worse than i did before. i want a way to make that feeling permanent. books are a big escape for me. i can get lost in someone else’s story, and experience their problems, and its nice. and i can flip through the pages any time i want. and photography, oooh that a huge one. i take pictures because my forever is probably different than yours. to me, forever is just a pretty word whispered between lovers, it doesnt exist in that sense for me. my forever exists in moments. they are branded along my timeline. and with pictures, i can go back whenever i want. i guess that is how the living learn about dying. when we begin to want things to last longer than they do. we are alive, and the only certainty we have is death. a very curious thing, or at least to me. we are at the beginning, and the only thing we know for sure is that there is an end.
something that can make me really sad is good memories, of people and places i loved and lost. along the way we unconsciously infuse everyone and everything with memory, and i find it hard to let go of things that hold great meaning for me. i dont think it is pure sadness though, because i think about those times with a smile on my face. but right after that i remember that it is past, and my happy expression disappears. it is more of a reminiscing sadness. happy-sad, if you will. you are happy and then you are sad. a peculiar mix of the two, i dont know how to describe it, but it is the most feel-y feeling i have ever felt. you love and then you lose, because that is the natural order. loss always comes after love. because if you think about it, the past is the only tense that exists, if you look at time as a physical thing. it will never not be today, and on your last today, you will remember all the yesterdays. there will be an end, and at the moment when it ends, when you are nothing, there is no future or present; only past. and everything and everyone in your life will be in it. life is a string of friends that you have met along the way, and it ends with them at your funeral. which is why i dont like making new friends. a bad friendship ends with us parting ways, and a good one ends with them dying. a good past makes a sucky present, or at least that’s what i’ve found. i also find old people confusing for that reason. they have lived a good long life, about ready to die of natural causes and such, but how do they keep going at that stage in life? when i listen to their stories of their past, they are so full of adventure and happiness, and are told to me with a smile. yet here they are now, a shell of their former selves, in body and mind, each day a gentle echo of the one before. green grasses and loyal lap dogs and tv shows that no one else watches. i dont know how i could live like that. when my legs are too frail to ever again run in a meadow, when i am too blind to see the stars at night, when i am too deaf to enjoy the music i am so dependent on. im terrified of it.
guess im scared to grow up. sooner or later, i will have to deal with all the stupid things i have done without doing more stupid things. all my dreams have turned from when’s to if’s to that-would-have-been-fun’s. these days, everything is grey. the bad blends in with the good. i dont hate it, and i dont love it either; i just dont care. hate and love are nearly the same, i suppose, but indifference is opposite of both of them. a very dreary feeling, while both love and hate burn bright and hot. the world looks different to me now. my eyes are open. i can see the flowers on the side of the road on which i am walking down, pretty and in full bloom, but i know they will wilt soon. and i pick some up to take with me, to keep some of the lillies for when im surrounded by tulips, just to have some memory of the past. they still die out, but now i have to watch it happen in my very own hands. i guess thats what good memories are though. bits of the past that you etch into your mind, to be able to go through when those feelings no longer exist for you. you hold them in your brain and they wont go away, and suddenly im wondering if theres a way to erase all the good so i can be more at ease with the bad. now i am stuck with all these inside jokes and secrets from people in my past, and i cannot sell them because they only hold meaning to me. my ribs are built like a cage around my heart, but even they do not protect me from the things i willingly let in, because they were good when i did. but the meaning has changed. every happy memory i have now has a sad over-coat to it.
the thing with me though is that i will never ever put a gun to my head, i will never slit my wrists. i refuse to go out that way. i refuse to have my light bulb just die out. if its going to go out, its going to freaking explode. i do things on my terms, and what i do is i take risks. if i am feeling suicidal, i will walk around in sketchy neighborhoods at night. i will listen to music and walk along busy roads. i will climb high into the trees in the woods, they go easily over a hundred feet up. i sit at the tippy top, and think to myself ‘i would die if i fell right now’. and then i climb down. there is a good chance that i will fall, but i will never jump. i leave it to chance. a risky game i play with death. only one person knows this about me, and her words are always the same: pain is temporary. thank you, miss wise and all-knowing karen. so is comfort. and it is a never-ending loop. by the time you have had time to bask in one end, you are thrown into the other.
so i have felt this way for a while. my mom thinks im stupid, should never have been born, yells and hits and what scares me the most is that she used to be my best friend. but nowadays i avoid her as much as i can, because every time we talk we fight. my dad is being worked to death at his job, and i have no way of helping him because we need that money. so my dad comes home from work to be confronted by mom, who starts yelling at him, telling him how awful i am, saying that i must get it from him. he does more stuff around the house than she does, and she doesnt even have a job. unless of course facebook counts, she is on that at least 8 hours a day. he is stressed and i dont know what to do about it. i think he started smoking again, too. i can no longer focus on school work, the teacher tells me something and i forget it a second later. my mind is deteriorating and i can feel it happening and im scared. my friends can tell that i am not the happy, crazy little jitterbug that i used to be, but then i feel bad for making them worry, which also adds to my stress. i eat less. i barely sleep. i am not allowed to hang out with friends, so i dont have much social interaction.
it feels like nothing in my life holds weight anymore. it feels like what i am going through now is just filler crap, a book that was written for the purpose of showing off the beginning. i am more afraid of living through the rest of it than i am of dying, of just closing the book without finishing it. i miss the good old days. i miss living through each one of them, not knowing how special they would end up being to me, oblivious to their importance. i miss my grandmother’s summer house in Gaeta, Italy, where i would throw on her ugly flower coat early in the morning to go to the baker lady, Nina. i would teach her english words, and she would give me stale bread from the day before so i could feed the pigeons in the park. i miss hiking with my dad. i miss kindergarten show and tell. i miss being a kid. i think i was more me as a kid. now im just here. i exist, but i am invisible. i can see others, but they cannot see me. i am still dragged along with the rest of the world, with one obvious way out, and its taunting me. i keep as much distance as i can from that door, but i can still see it, and it beckons. i cannot stop the world, and the earth just keeps on spinning, and that damned door is still just there. my life is just a small thing, on a small planet, in the midst of other bigger planets, in a solar system, in a galaxy, in a small, insignificant part of a universe thats almost 14 billion lightyears old. i think the most accurate length currently is 13.7 or so, and i will try not to geek out, but for those of you who dont know: looking farther into the universe is literally looking back through time. because in the time that it takes for that light to reach us, the object itself has changed. say theres a star 100000 light years away. that means that the star you are looking at, you are looking at how it was 100000 years ago. it could have died by now. kind of how my life feels, if this analogy even makes sense. i remember the past, i can see it, but its getting farther and farther away, and i dont want to let go of it. i have a bad habit of drowning in thoughts and memories. lots of the stars you see in the night sky are dead. i learned this forever ago, but i ponder it often, and i have officially gone mental with this post i dont know what is happening.
i think it was healthy for me to get that all out. if you got this far, congrats; i just wasted half an hour of my life writing this down, and you wasted 5 minutes reading it. or maybe you didnt. maybe it helped. i dont know if this was me trying to pour out some of my problems or offer advice or just explain how i see things (i think mostly the third to be honest) but oh well. have a good day. watch supernatural. love castiel. and for all you out there thinking that you should just end it, think of it this way: our lives are silly and meaningless on their own. if only one person existed, he would be even less important than the entire human race already is. you know why? because we are not special on our own. we dont matter in the whole of the universe, and the universe does not care. we can only care about each other, and give each other meaning, relate to others in insignificant ways. if you truly dont want to live, there is no one who can help you. but if you are uncertain, know that you have to stay alive for yourself, first and foremost. but also for others. there is someone out there who needs help just as much as you do, and if you have the chance to help them, i think you should take that chance and see what happens. helping others really does make you feel better, you know. i feel awful all the time, and yet i volunteer, i help people, and it is yet another escape for me. my advice is to find some escapes. find some outlets. and find some people. share, relate, build on from that, and good luck.
You’re most likely wondering why I so boldly asked for you to read this post. Well, I did so because I have something to say that I believe will benefit you, no matter if this site applies to you or not.
I’ve had an unbelievable amount of personal experiences in my life that in reality could have shattered me from the start but instead, here I am writing this post. I’m not going to tell you that your life will automatically improve after this, or that you will immediately see a change, but what I hope that it will help you in some way shape or form. From an open-minded and accepting friend, I hope you will learn from my experiences as I have learned from others.
~I promise you that nothing I say below is untrue nor exaggerated~
My mother was (and still is) a huge administrator of emotional abuse. She made me and my sibling’s lives a living hell. When I was really little, she and my dad were always working and when they did come home, my dad would shout and stomp and my mom would shriek and scream. My dad was on some heavy medication (presently I believe they were prescription steroids and narcotics) for his back because of his 13 surgeries (he’s always had medical issues. It’s just the way his body works). We were afraid around my dad and around my mom, she would just complain and yell about my dad. They fought constantly and it became fairly normal.
That being said, my grandma raised us three alone for the most part. We lived in a nice house, but were constantly called spoiled brats because of it. People at school made me feel guilty for wearing nice clothes all the time. I didn’t care about those nice things though… (I came to want only to be loved, but that comes later). The three of us fought a lot and were yelled at, but that was a result of not being supervised enough.
Our grandfather was a religious nut who was kicked out of multiple churches for arguing with the pastor over the type of bible they used. He walked to the city every day just to hand out bible tracks. Every time he said goodbye, he would add “guess who loves you the most?” and after we would of course HAVE to say God, he would say “Yeah! That’s right!”. Every other religion was the devil’s religion. Nonreligious music and non-christian books were pagan. One time I wore a two piece swimsuit to his pool and he told me I wasn’t allowed to swim looking like a whore (I was in 5th grade).
Starting from first grade onward, as the oldest, I was the first to face the jaws of elementary school, where according to mom, I had to be the best in everything or there was no point to doing it and you were a failure. I was pressured to get A’s on everything and to be the best at sports and at music. I played soccer, basketball, and then softball where I settled and still play today. I only had one friend and she was my everything. We did everything together and shared everything. So while I whirled around in a sea of advanced papers, practice two times a week, games on weekends, and viola lessons each week, she stood by me. In third grade I secluded myself after we weren’t in the same class. I had no one and after getting glasses, my self confidence plummeted. The yelling became worse. The screaming, the degradation. I just wasn’t socially adaptable. Sorry mom. My recesses were better spent inside doing multiplication and reading the Twilight series anyways.
In fourth grade, I got contacts and started making more friends (a few acquaintances) and in fifth grade, my best friend was back. We weren’t as close, but we had a small group. I also found my first boyfriend, a tall handsome little boy with black hair who would send me “I kinda like you” letters which turned into “Goodnight I love you” texts in 6th grade. I still was socially awkward and had a hard time making friends, but it couldn’t be helped. My home stayed the same oppressive prison as always and my siblings were dragged down with it. My sister was even worse at making friends than I was, and my brother, little did I know yet, was turning into a rather rude and uncaring individual.
During the first year of middle school, I guess I sort of reverted back to my third grade days. I didn’t have a “true friend”, but I had my boyfriend… Who dumped me after the school dance. I cried, as all the heartbroken do, and got over it. So much for first loves.
Eighth grade was the year that completely changed everything. Immediately, I found myself whirled into an unlikely friend group of my current best friend who will never leave and is too amazing to explain (P), an almost-insane spunky girl (SE), an outrageously hilarious girl with a darker side (SA), and a smarter, more quiet, rational thinking girl (K). Together, we bonded over a private joke we created about a group of old ladies starring in our fictional movie “Rest in Pieces”, involving a murder, a clinically insane twin, and humor. We all had old lady names which we called each other. I was Petunia, P was Edith, SE was Gertrude, SA was Mildred, and K was Pearl. We were always together and always talked about things with each other. That year I also acquired a boyfriend (G). I was absolutely infatuated with him. He was tall, funny, strong, and cute (sorry to all of you readers who hate this sort of thing. You can skim it if you would like 😛 ). What drew me to him however, was how he always had people around him, yet hated the attention. His dad had just died the previous year and I wanted to help in whatever ways I could. He was my first serious boyfriend and at one point, though it sounds silly, I fell in love with him.
Funny thing is though, you only find out how much you love someone after they’re gone. SA flirted with him constantly and even though I told her to quit it three times, he broke up with me the Summer before high school started. On my birthday. First thing in the morning. Yeah… That wasn’t exactly my favorite birthday gift, seeing as he was my first kiss… I resented SA after that and when high school started, I didn’t talk to her. She knew it though and every morning while they were making out, I scooted right on past (and yes, they really did that and it was really that gross).
Things at home with my mom were coming to a boiling point. My dad was getting better as his last surgery had really helped him and finally he was back on his feet. He became happier and easier to talk to while my mom only screamed louder. She called me pathetic, lazy, stupid, ugly on the inside and out, fat, unbecoming, brat, *****, mute, rude, mean, idiot, nasty, ugly, arrogant, useless, antisocial, friendless, waste of talent, waste of money, hopeless, snotty, and other names. These were just the ones I had written down. At softball, which I played on year round on a travel team, I felt increasingly more pain every time I threw the ball. So much so that I was popping Advil like candy.
But at school, I fell for a boy with blond hair and misty green eyes in my history class. I still remember the day that he said he wanted to go to Japan and because I sat right next to him, I automatically piped in “really, me too!”. I just hoped he didn’t catch me staring at him too many times… But besides that, grade stress weighed down on me. I found out that high school wasn’t easy if you still want those A’s, and being in the gifted program only means you lose more sleep. Stress and anxiety did not help my arm pain and the situation back home.
Eventually, after multiple misdiagnosis’s, I finally found out that I had a torn ulnar collateral ligament and could ether get a Tommy John surgery, or never play softball again. Seeing as I had already invested so much time into the sport, I decided to get the surgery. On January 12th of 2015, I woke up from a successful surgery, but with 3 little ugly scars, one gruesome big winding scar, and a hulking cast. I partially blamed my mom for the surgery seeing as every time I told her it hurt, she wrote it off as an excuse and sent me back out on the field to damage it some more. Over that post-operation period, none of my friends contacted me (except for P who asked once how I was doing).
I went in a few days later to take my finals which I had missed. I took my algebra 2 and honors history finals while on narcotics and ended with A’s which I was happy with. But when I was permanently back, things started to turn around for the boy with blond hair and I (J). We began to talk and I fell for him more and more (sorry readers who don’t like sappy romance, but he plays and important role!). Eventually he became my boyfriend and while G and SA made out in the open hallway, we sat at the end and just talked to each other. Sometimes he would even bring me breakfast and I would in return bring him some as well.
We talked about where we wanted to travel, about politics (rarely), about our favorite music (he liked country, I liked classical, alternative, and soundtracks), about TV (which mainly consisted of anime because I’m the biggest closet anime fan anyone will ever know… Inuyasha anyone?), and many other things. We were best friends who happened to really like each other and that like eventually turned into love. He was the first boy I ever let do more than kiss (disclaimer, we both kept everything below the waist on, I repeat, pants on people!). But I felt good about it, not ashamed. I did it because I trusted him.
When Summer came, we were both busy me with sports, him with camps and trips and such. When we did get together though, we did fun things. He took me to a wolf preserve and on my birthday, gave me pale lavender roses and a beautiful silver necklace that I treasured and took with me to Europe. Things were especially great when he came down to the beach with my family and one night I snuck into his room and we JUST laid together (nothing more… I just always wanted to fall asleep in a boy’s arms…) . Waking up early, I slipped back into the other room and to this day, I treasure that memory with all my heart.
But when 10th grade started up, we had no classes together. I found out that SA and G had broken up as well. She and I reconciled and our friends were whole again. Things quickly turned for the worst though, when I joined a new team with an abusive, loud, drill sergeant of a coach who made us do conditioning until we felt like we were going to vomit and made each of us cry at least one practice. I got a new viola teacher after outgrowing the other one, but he made me feel like I was doing everything wrong and wasn’t good enough… I didn’t practice for the months I was with him. 10th grade was even more work than 9th grade and I began to get anxiety attacks as things at home heated up again and again. So I broke up with J to save him from the burden of my life. I cried while doing it and after he hugged me, I knew I had made a mistake. I knew it but didn’t say anything. Instead, I cut my long hair and cried.
And cried. And cried. And had a panic attack. And cried. And then I learned that SA had been sexually abused by G and had attempted to end her life. She cut her wrists frequently and had tried to jump off of a roof. As messed up as I was, I tried to help her all that I could. We became close and bonded over our love of Studio Ghibli and view of life. I had somehow prolonged her life and in doing so, mine as well.
In February of 2016, I went to J and asked for him back only for him to say no. He said it would be best if we remained friends. Immediately after that I learned that he had gotten a new girlfriend, a girl a year older than him who in all unbiased honesty, was not as pretty, not athletic, not as smart, and just not prominent in any way besides the fact that she played the same instrument as him (which is percussion…).
A little before that, my sister declared that she didn’t want to be a girl and she didn’t really want to be a boy, but a boy was better than being a girl; She was transgender. My dad and I were quick to accept and support her while my mother constantly fought and yelled at her. To this day she still yells. And we’re seeking help as much as we can for my sister through therapy and support groups. My sister’s a lot happier than before, but all of her progress gets pushed back by my mother.
Not being able to deal with the stress of life, I took to cutting. I cut off the safeguards of a daisy razor blade and slid it across my wrists. It actually didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. But the next day I was so ashamed of what i had done. I partially covered it with bracelets and hoped no one would question it (which they didn’t much to my relief). I eventually even contemplated a means to an end. SA found out though and she told me not to. She pleaded with me and recently, I decided to quit all of it. Boys aren’t worth it, mothers aren’t worth it, no one is worth that kind of pain. If J would settle for someone like that, then hell, I’m sure there’s a prince for me out there somewhere 🙂 And though my mother still yells, I now have the support of the rest of my family and look towards the days when I will leave this house of unforgiveness and pave my own path in the world. One full of acceptance and kindness towards those who need it most.
I learned that living is one hell of a struggle. But without those hardships, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the good in life as I do now. I wouldn’t be able to understand others like my sister and SA. Wouldn’t be able to interact and connect with others as I can now. Some can’t push through those adversities though, and I’ve learned that that’s why people need to stop with all of the fronts, all of the acts. Stop being selfish and materialistic and start caring about others. We’re all just people. No one is any better than anyone else, and everyone has their own purpose. I am a firm believer in this. I myself am not perfect, but it’s those imperfections that push me forward.
If you’re still here and lasted to the end of that long speech, I applaud you and hope that my story can help you with your own.
Here’s SA’s own website for additional story insight: https://diffidentdaydreamssite.wordpress.com/
Here’s my email as well if you ever wanted to ask questions privately or just need a friend to talk to: email@example.com
Thank you, and I wish you all good luck in your journey.
Is it better that we have the choice to say goodbye, very possibly for the last time?, Or is it better not to have a goodbye?
Really I’m sure it’s the first one. At least than you can accept when someone goes that it’s true, …maybe
I guess it’s hard either way most of the time,
“No sir, I don’t like it”
I feel that friendship is more fragile and more important compared to a relationship. I don’t know, but it’s like whenever my friends suddenly act cold, it hurts so fucking bad I just add a few more cuts just to be able to feel. Fucking hell it makes no sense.
Honestly, it really fucking terrifies my how much of a hold this person has over me. All she has to do is say a word, and I think I’ll just fucking crumble. She’s not even the person I’m in a relationship with. But I’d rather lose him than her. It’s really difficult and just tiring to try and stop myself from doing something to chase her away. I really couldn’t stand it if she hated me.
Sometimes when I feel like I’ve said something wrong and she goes all quiet, it just makes me hate myself all the more. She’s done this before last year. She was really close with me, and then suddenly the cold shoulder came for roughly 3/4 of the year. This time she’s gotten really close again, just after I’d gotten over the fact that I’d lost her.
Now I’m just afraid she’ll up and leave when I’m no longer needed.
It’s just kinda scary, and this lack of control just makes me want to cut more.