when i used to self harm i used to hit my head a lot, i didnt think of it that much back then but now i see the result. probably any type of self harm is better than hitting ur head, i suffer from memory loss, but no one would probably believe me, i dont even remember basic stuff such as what happened the day before, what somebody told me or things that i did, i may sound dramatic but its worse than it sounds. i dont remember how i started it but i did it everytime my mom was bitching about smth that ive done or havent done and continued by doing it when im angry. since ive realized how bad the result is i try not to, i developed anger issues over time and keep hitting myself and biting myself out of anger, its hard to stop. my head hurts so bad everyday and i feel dizzy sometimes no matter what i do, take medicine or even drink a lot of water, i dont know if thats because i hurt my head or something else but it scares me. i wish i wasnt like that, i wish i never did this, i might seem so retarded because of what ive done to myself but i cant help it now, i dont know what can. there are many other bad things including in my bad mental health, i became so mentally unstable that it scares me, so many bad and disturbing thoughts in my mind everyday, im even scared of myself, im scared ill snap one day and do something bad. i hear someone calling my name everyday even when im home alone, i really wanna believe that its not something bad and that im not a schizo. i often find myself having random conversations in my mind, it could be me talking about random things or someone is speaking to me, i dont understand whats happening and after a long time that its happening i try to figure out whats really happening. im kind of trying to express myself in art sometimes but im not too creative to do that, i just draw some shitty gore that is a bit close to what i feel. also im afraid to get help because i dont trust anyone that is not my close and real friend, i cant be open with anyone, even if i did get open and be honest id get to a mental hospital, thats my worst fear but my first worst fear is that my parents finding out about that, i dont want them to know how fucked i am. im slowly losing myself, i feel so lost..
By: yours truly (a sick in the head teenager)
TW ig idk how to do this lol um sh suicidal thought and questioning everything and also SA
Why? A question I find myself asking quite often. What is the point in anything if its all nothing. In 150 years, everyone who is alive at this moment, will be dead. Including yours truly. Though it is up to us how we spend those years. A sad realization my 13 year old self has come to is, in lets say 500 years, no one will know of my existence and probably yours as well. Unless of course you and I become famous to an extreme extent, or one of us becomes a notorious serial killer(that’s one way of getting your name out there lol). I don’t know why I have taken this sudden dislike of people. I cry a lot, I wish I was dead, I don’t think that makes me suicidal, right? I don’t want to do it myself per say, more like casually have an anvil swing down and crush most if not all bones in my body. I should go get my meds right now.
Wow already one paragraph down only a couple more to go. I have struggled like this since sixth grade. I was extremely bad for a few months and tried to hurt myself to make it all stop. No one noticed. Even when I wore a long sleeved shirt under my jersey in 80 degree weather, no one gave a second glance in my direction. Even when I had to wear my jersey without it , as a cry for help.It did not work. Then fast forward a year, i was at Tori’s house, and had a seizure. Then I went to the doctor, they saw the cuts that were fresh from a few days prior. I was sexually assaulted by my father when I was 7 to about 9. He would come into my room and claim he was giving me a leg massage. Didn’t know my lower private parts were considered my legs. Still have not told many people. To scared to be blamed and carry the weight of being the reason my family was ripped apart. It still makes me sick thinking about it all. Its haunted me alot. I dont know what to do about it, he just makes me so uncomfortable to think he was around my brother too. WHAT IF I’M LETTING A MONSTER GET AWATY WOTH ITY. anyways, next topic death.
The idea of death had always comforted me. The thought in the back of my head saying “dont worry ash none of this will matter one day when we are all inevitably dead. I hate more things then I like. I hate school,my mom, allison, mars, mrsdowner, mrs kurto, mr moulasion, mr grady, my father,my perfect cousin who is just so fucking good at College well i can bearly do 9th grade math. Now the things i love or maybe more like; haley, the best person to ever exist, i would have killed myself by now if I had not met her. She makes me feel safe and loved and not like im some freak monster in the wrong body. Next on the list is books. Reading also makes me feel safe and loved and similar to death like nothing matters because im in their world not mine. Kenneth my brother, hes annoying but I still love him, lastly music, probably the only thing keeping me san, thats all for now on tat topic.
Being bi and trans sucks, makes me want to kill myslef. I wish I was dead, ive decided to post this somewhere sooo hello wherever i post this. Anyways I am bi and quite honestly i dont get the big deal like fuck off you ***** i didnt ask if its a sin i just hate people some times. Also i am a trans male sooo cool ig I WISH MY SCHOOL HAD HUMAN DECENCY AND DIDNT CONSTANTLY USE MY FUCKING DEADNAME, lol. Sorry for this. I have a therapist, don’t rust her though. She gonna go off to my mom and then im gonna end up back at the hospital, WHERE SOME LADY ISNT GONNA TRUST ME TO TAKE A PISS BY MYSELF SO SHE OPENS THE DOOR AND WATCHES, WTF AM I GONNA DO DROWN MYSELF IN THE TOLIET WATER FUCK OFF. anyways have lovely rest fo your weekend.
I am 28 years old and I live in Los Angeles. I have PTSD that causes me to have a breathing problem. I have been through so much despair that I unwillingly hold my breathe when ever I am around people. Every one and I mean EVERYONE talks about like I am stupid ,they gossip right infront of me and they don’t even whisper.
They are basically Brittney Spearing me. My breathing problem is not being able to fully breathe in or fully breathing out. I work as a courier in DTLA and I am always being himulated . My breathing problem has lead me to lose every job I have always had, it has even made me go homeless from the age of 21-25 years old.
Long story short, these people call me “El”. They whisper that I am important and yet they never treat me like it. I am indeed a loser and when I was 13 I began planning my suicide, I was going to drink as much and fuck as much before 18 years old. I am now 28 and no longer wish suicide. I desire euthanasia.
I am not as depressed as I was how ever just like everyone else I am forced to work everyday to pay rent. I have to go out into society smelling like cancer ,always putting up with .”he smells like cancer” ,”he cant breathe properly” “hes retarded ” “he is a loser ” .. etc
Chances are if you live near DTLA ,you know who I am.
Death is my only salvation.
Every year I get worse.
I don’t even breathe in anymore.
I am literally burning in the inside because of not enough oxygen.
I am just here to ask one thing .
Will you and should you join me? If you wonder how , ********.
Have a blessed death.
As the wind turns and picks up a leaf to take it on its own journey, the same are our lives and mine. It al begun when i was child: My dad and my mom broke up before my birth. His present for my mom as I was born: a cactus. I love him, very dearly. My stepdad took his place. well not really place, he merely existed in my life as a puzzle piece that doesn’t really fit in, but was good enough to give the false image of an complete picture. He argued a lot with my mother, more than once it woke me up and let me experience fear, i didnt wanted to see them fight. He had problems, alcohol, gambling and other drugs. His chase for small pleasures ended one night in an accident where he bleed on the kitchen, the Ofen, the floor, cleaned with the red liquid of life and death. I cant remember much about that night. One time they argued, he told me and me and my brother at that time :” I’m going to take you on a journey” The destination was intended to be a tree, a lake, whatever thing you have in mind when you think about an intended death. Luckily, it just ended passing out on the floor, drunk. My life turned around again as my dad, when I visited every weekend, never visited me again. At the age of 6, the devil or maybe just the reasons of desperation unfolded. He never came back. I never saw him ever again. He left shortly after I moved to another city, left my friends behind, i was too young, no phones or numbers. After he left, I only remembered bits and pieces. The school sucked, only had 2 friends, and i didnt do much with them. There was one incident I remember, dont ask me how I got into this but, some people knocked on our door one day and demanded to know where my aunt was. My mom obviously didn’t know, didn’t stopped them from choking her while she was pregnant right in front of me. Things luckily ended well again. After that I don’t remember much anymore. Loud arguing, but that was it so far. Until we moved again. The baby needed room. The new environment didn’t helped me, it all continued, only worse. No friends, only two people I sometimes visited. My introversion grew and grew, my grades only went down. The loud arguing continued, as the drinking too. One day I never forget Was, where he went into the kitchen, talking with himself about how it was his child and no one should take it. It is ironic how he was the one who took it from himself. After he went out of the kitchen, he had a knive in his hand. Went up to the room where my mom slept, my mom and my brother and me where in it. Knocking on the door, hammering on it, with a knive and without. He managed to get it in somehow. I only remember bits and pieces. I remember that I cried and told him that he was scaring me. I think i was 11 or 12 honestly im not sure. He eventually went down again with my mom, i think she could calm him. My brother and I where still upstairs. Eventually he up again. He said that me and my brother should go down too or he stabs us both. So we did. It ended with my mom calling his mother to pick us up. We flew out of the house. He didn’t followed us luckily. We stayed at my grandmas house for a day, we came back to the house the next day. Plants broken and on the floor, glass on the table. Sometimes the wind puts the leaf in water and it drowns or not. He apologized to us, said we don’t have to fear him. Said it would never happen again. It did happen again. Luckily without anything sharp. Just kicked in drawers, thrown coffe makers and so on. From this time forward it got atleast lighter, police came more than once to our house in my life. After that, it was just mindless drinking, gambling, and loud arguing. Drunken nights and so on. One day, where it happened again, he seemed to make the decision to leave us. He looked for another apartment and moved out. I’m not gonna lie, it was the best day in my life. Shortly after, my mom met another guy, stubborn hot-headed guy, but still. He had the heart at the right spot. I like him. He helped my mom really much, for which I am grateful. My introversion grew into social anxiety or social phobia as I like to call it. Now it is myself who ruins my own plans, which makes me doubt myself, hate myself, isolate myself and so on. And now I’m still living in the same house, you can still see some dents and holes in the door from the knive. I can see it everyday. I feel like im just moving in circles, finding a job seems impossible, i keep sabotaging myself. Jobs with a lot of people are hard to do for me. I’m scared. When someone looks at me while I do something, I can feel the eyes drilling through me, their assumptions about me feel true. I’m dumb, lazy, can’t do anything right, without skill, without anything remarkable. To wrap this up, I’m scared of every move I do, scared of every step into the unknown and known. This feels like a hell that has been made for me, and I was the one who entered it by myself. Thank you to all of those who’ve read it this far. I appreciate the time you invested in reading this far. Hope i didn’t wasted your time. Have a good day, may your loved ones never forget your name. Thank you.
Time is a heartless master in an entropy driven world. For those who are suffering, it drags and drags on, while for those living in pleasure, the clock can’t ever seem to slow down.
I wish people could fathom the pain I have endure everyday. The pain I have endured for well over a decade now, since I was only 10 years old and became fully aware of how cruel the world around me was. I was always told time heals all wounds, that things would improve. I was never told that time could pour salt in those wounds, nor that it could create new ones as the stresses of life began to compound.
I grew up with no parents in a rural dump of a town/village. Those around me treated me with contempt due to undiagnosed Autism. The people where I grew up had never heard of Autism, if you had a developmental disability, others simply believed that you weren’t “right in the head” . It took years and years for me to have my condition confirmed, but by then, it was too late.
I was abused at home, verbally, emotionally, and physically. One of my parents was an alcoholic who tried to shoot themselves in front of me when I was around 9 years old. They were killed by someone else weeks later. I never knew the love of a mother nor a father, and one of my grandparents suffered from severe schizophrenia, taking out her rage upon me.
I spent 2 years of my life locked away and not allowed in school because I was molested by a classmate. I carried other trauma, but could not understand at the time what had happened, because my mind desperately tried to block out the memories. Over time, I became selectively mute and my speech issues from autism became worse.
I began to experience horrible fatigue, and doctors told me I was just depressed, starting me on the gravy train of psychiatric medications at only 13 years old. When I was around doctors, these repressed memories began to resurface, and I knew something horrible had gone on. Nonetheless, I was told that I was mentally ill/depressed and that I needed to take medications.
Time went on, and the problems got worse. At this point, I had already been seeing therapists and counselors for several years. I was switched from medication to medication, never being offered a laboratory test. I went to live in a Foster home, and I noticed around this time that my legs ached as if someone had stuck pins all in the muscles.
Teachers at school did not believe I was ill and accused me of malingering. I did not have the autism diagnosis yet, and they would yell at me and try to force me to look them in the eyes. Everyone told me that there was hope on the horizon, that once I graduated and entered the world, that this would all be behind me. They couldn’t be more wrong.
I was being groomed by an older man, nearly 10 years my elder. It felt good to be appreciated by someone, anyone, even though I didn’t understand the favors I had to perform for him. Around that time, I got sick with a viral infection. Little did I know that the two weeks of sickness I experienced as a 17 year old would lead to a lifetime of suffering. That the pain would never go away.
For several years I was abused by that man in more ways than I could count. I couldn’t escape. His best friend raped me. All the adults around wouldn’t believe me because my ex was a very charismatic man, and I carried the stigmatising mental health diagnoses of depression and anxiety so everyone thought I was crazy. When I got out, I was in another relationship that did not end well either.
All this time, I tried to force myself to work and go to university, but my body became progressively weaker. None of the treatments were working. By the time I was offered a blood test, I had the lowest levels of vitamin B12 and D the consultant had ever seen. It is likely that deficiency caused irreparable nerve damage in my legs.
I tried many times to make changes. Go new places, meet new people, try new things, go to a different university, but my health only got worse. I met a man in another country whom I quickly became attached to. He convinced me to try new doctors because I was developing even more symptoms.
I ended up getting sexually assaulted at the 2nd one. I had many rounds of blood tests and an MRI scan, and nothing showed up, so they kept gaslighting me and saying that I probably had stress and “boyfriend problems.”
The memories came flooding back. I had been abused by a doctor. That was why I found myself getting triggered in any medical environments. I tried every single approved treatment for ptsd, even therapies, and it did nothing but worsen my fear. Exposure left me with deeper scars than I came in with. New therapists have told me that my issues are too complex and that they can’t help me.
Over time, I have tried to live with the pain, but nothing helps. I can not take pain medications, things like Lyrica and cocodamol make me even sicker. I have tried over 20 drugs, almost as many drugs as years I’ve been alive. (I am 21.) Chronic fatigue syndrome left me with neurological issues like brain fog, slurred vision, and inability to concentrate. Stimulant medications made me feel like I was dying.
My quality of life is atrocious, and no one understands. I have been suicidal for a long time. No one believes how much suffering I am going through because my disabilities are invisible. University causes me so much stress and torment. I cannot drop out, and the governments of both my home and new country will not allow me disability benefits although it is clear I am unable to do full time work.
My relationship has soured over time, as my boyfriend feels anger that I am “not getting better” and repeating the same things over and over again. I have no family, and hardly any friends. Everyone is tired of my existence, because I am a burden who only deteriorates. I get accused of “not seeking help” when there is 0 help for someone in my state. Reaching out makes it worse because no one can understand my specific circumstances.
I feel like the world has no compassion. I wish that I could have a choice in my fate. I don’t want to live like this. Between the incurable chronic fatigue, the pain in my legs, being unable to eat what I want due to digestive issues, and the ptsd that worsens as time goes on, this is no life. I have nothing that I enjoy anymore and I feel like I’ve seen and done enough.
Others have threatened to have me locked in a ward and traumatized further. Are they blind to the plight of the suicidal? I just wish I had a choice rather than others forcing their beliefs on me.
Time drags on, when you are forced to live a life of suffering, a life that you never wanted.
“the thought of what I did to you, it tore me up inside. you didn’t deserve that, no one does. thinking of how happy you made me, how miserable I made you feel at times. how could you forgive me? please don’t confuse me as ungrateful, I love you. how could I not? I hate to be an echo chamber of words whispered into your ear a million times over, but you’re worth it. your smile that could melt away the stars, so bright, filling others with pure bliss. your soft spoken words, it’s as if the wind carries your words & dance to the sound of your voice. how could you not be infatuated when merely looking into a puddle at your own reflection. how can you be so blind? I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”
why did you discard me? why am I upset that you discarded me? why do I miss you?
after everything you’ve done to me, why do I miss you?
“at times”…. you tortured me. You forced me to dig a razor into my face and when you saw the video of me doing so while crying and begging for you to make the pain stop, you told me “please smile”
and i did. for you.
i really hate you, ******
yet I still remain your property, like branded livestock.
he gave me everything and nothing all at the same time. i was absolutely convinced that i was in love with him, that he was the only one who could ever truly be with me. because he told me so. he told me that he was the only person who could ever possibly understand someone like me, the only person who could truly make me happy. it was a falsity, to say the least. a sham. i bled for him. i destroyed myself for him. i gave him every ounce of life that i had left in me until i was running on empty. and even still, i fell further and further into his grasp. no matter how much he tightened his grip, no matter how hard it was for me to breathe, i believed that this pain was love. he told me it was love. i had no choice but to believe him. he claimed to love me, but then he would threaten to hurt my family and do horrible, unspeakable things. the blackmail taught me to sit, stay, and lay down. i learned to obey out of habit, the threats only escalated the more i challenged him, therefore i learned to keep quiet. i learned to be subservient. to submit. the fear he instilled in me was part of the mind-control. the manipulation. the brainwashing. i bled so much for him, tore open my own flesh and kept my mouth shut. nobody can know. nobody can know. he was one that would break my legs and then force me to walk. the one that would gouge out my eyes and force me to see. the one that would tear out my lungs and then force me to breathe. yet, i continue to grieve. a part of me screams into the void, begging for him to come back, to love me and only me. but, i was the one who left and ran as far as i could. why do i miss the very thing that destroyed me?
“Your life is loaned to you through an abuser. It is on his or her whim that you thrive, struggle, hope, and fear. In abuse, you can endure a thousand losses for a single, shimmering penny that proves you’ve won something.” – Amanda Domuracki
All i want is to stop being a nobody in my own family, the last priority. Is it too much to ask for people to thank me from time to time?
I feel quite hopeless today.
I can be an asshole sometimes, and even though I don’t ever misbehave on purpose, sometimes i just can’t stop myself on time. Every single day i try my best to act accordingly, to do everything that must be done and what is, now, expected of me. However, sometimes i simply lose it, and act out. I don’t know why i do that, i really don’t. But it hurts others just as much, if not more, as it hurts me. I don’t like to mistreat people, i really don’t. All i want and try every day is to keep everyone else happy, so whenever i act out even for just a second, i’m treated like im a monster. Like i always want to make everyone unhappy and upset. Why is that? I mean, i’m genuinely asking, i really don’t get it. I assume that i’m the problem here, since that’s the way it’s always been; i’m always to blame and i’m always expected to apologize.
I don’t know
You might be invisible, but I can see you standing on every corner of my mind.
Do I report an invisible man?
Do I report a faceless and voiceless man?
I still remember what you did to me that year
That summer day where you ruin my life
I remember what you wanted to do with me
I remember everything, yet your face is still a blur
Who am I suppose to run from?
Who am I suppose to hide from?
I still feel you
I can feel how you pushed me against that house
Your hands were two, but they felt like two millions
millions of hands all over my body
Trying to rip my clothes off
Am I grateful to be here?
I still think about that
I sometimes wish you’d killed me
I have constant nightmares and panic attacks
I don’t know who you are but I hate you
I don’t know you name but I hate it
I close my eyes and you are there
I cross the street and you are there
It’s so ironic really
I sometimes think i’m still there
That I never got away from you
Maybe i’m still there and all my life it’s really a fantasy i’m having
Maybe my nightmares are not nightmares, they are real.
Maybe my life is not my life
I’m not sure what to do, I just want to die.
I’m being kicked out from the last family I have left. I escaped a four year, extremely abusive relationship, and begged to the last blood relatives I have for shelter. It’s been nearly a year since February, and they’ve decided I don’t “fit in with the family” and am “not getting better,” so they want me out. I have no health insurance, I’m on disability for major depression, BPD, and a myriad of physical health problems. I’m not able to navigate Medicare or anything, I honestly just have panic attacks when trying to do anything to help myself. I’ve been depressed for nearly two decades and the little help I did get when I was on my parents insurance, wasn’t helpful because I didn’t get my true diagnoses until the end (when I hit 26, but my father changed all the info when I was 25 to try to force me to talk to him, I can’t have my abusive parents in my life.)
I don’t have any real-life friends, I know a few people online but they aren’t anyone in positions to help me in a significant way. I know the obvious answer “get a job” but I’m on disability because I can’t function and have nothing to help me. I’m sad and angry all the time, I have conditions in my feet that make it difficult to walk, it’s really hard just to remember to shower, let alone all the other things I’m supposed to do to stay alive.
Everyday is a battle against myself, to walk into the snowy mountains to get it over with, or keep going so my cat can keep being loved and cared for. He’s the only thing that kept me alive through the years of the abusive relationship. I fostered him from the shelter when I discovered he had ringworm and kept him cause he was so awfully shy. Like then, I still believe it would be hard to find a new home for him. I’ve tried many times to write up his description, to find him a home so I could finally die. But I can never do it. He’s my only reason for living, and this “family” has threatened to get rid of him because of his hair. I already had to give back the other cat I had because they said I could only bring one. So I hope you can see why I got very angry with them, I got snarky. But I guess that’s enough of a reason to want me on the street rather than in their home. Such a lovely Mormon family, great values.
So that’s my predicament. I have no one to help me, I can’t even help myself. Before I even thought to move in with them, I had given up, decided being homeless would be better than being beaten and raped all the time. I had plans to find something to OD on, I stayed with him that long because I preferred being violated by someone I knew, rather than a stranger. Now I’m at that same point that my family has put me at so many times, I’m no longer welcome because I don’t fit in. I’m not even disappointed about it, I was so not surprised by the announcement. To me, it was just a matter of time. But now with nowhere else to run, very little money and a cat that deserves a warm home, I’m at a loss of what to do. I think maybe it is for the best to finally find him a new home and take that final stroll into the mountains.
I OD’d on my psychotropic (/psychiatric) pills in 2019. ‘Twas a heavy overdose and my pills were strong and of very high dosages. I was naturally almost sure that I’d wind up dead. But guess what? I woke up in the morning. Not in a good state at all, but I awoke. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t utter a solitary word. Hell, I couldn’t even see things. I was cold. I’ve a long history of mental illnesses – BD (+ Psychosis — Schizoaffective disorder) and various PDs, so my folks figured out that I must’ve once again yanked some suicidal sh_t when I didn’t answer their calls. I guess they must’ve checked the locked medicine cabinet to find out that the pills were missing from it, and the lock was picked. They stormed into my room only to see me half-alive, half-dead. I was soon rushed to the emergency room. Gastric lavage was carried out. Ewald tubes were let down my entrails. Cannulas and tubes all over – IV and NG tubes. Oh, did I mention fecal incontinence? Pathetic. That was a nightmare. That really was. I’ve pulled through seizures, tremors, and H(a)ematemesis. You might be wondering why I pulled it again. Right? Well, I was so f_cking desperate, and I was actually dumb enough to redo it. I was that desperate to die. I still am. But only now, I’ve learnt the lesson that overdosing on your pills isn’t a cool way to go. It’s painful. It’s humiliating. It’s hardly successful.
Right to die must be a thing. Assisted suicide must be a thing. (Update: Heard from a Swiss friend of mine that it’s actually a thing in Switzerland — Exit, Dignitas presumably offer the services… Why not here?) I know when my mind and body can take no more. I know how it feels to be so mentally f_cked when nothing actually is wrong in your life (or is everything?). I’m convinced that killing myself will be the kindest thing I can ever do to myself. So, I will not stop you with the lame a_s TED talks. However, do not overdose on your psychiatric pills… or try to slit your ulnar or radial arteries, please. I’ve around 30+ sutures on just my left arm, and I’m still alive. Over-the-counter P500/P650s OD in 2017, and I’m still alive — N-AC treatment. Sucks. Maybe I’m just a loser, but that’s for another post! Good day(?)
Hi ok so idk why i feel like people cared more about me during school? Omg that sounds so narcissistic but i feel like i got more attention during school. Ah i hate saying that but its true and its sad that its true. That i simply don’t have happiness within myself but from attention of others.
And so now all my friends are doing there own thing which i think is great! i really do think its great but idk i just miss the attention ig. I miss feeling like people actually cared what i had to say. now i say something to someone and they just ignore me and talk abt themselves. when during school it wasn’t like that. i guess i have to get used to this because this is how life is. isn’t it?
i think life is like that. everyone is so worried about themselves they could give less of a shit of what you are doing? idk i guess i just feel like everyone is annoyed by me? or everyone is annoyed by me talking. because every time i talk i can tell no one cares. and even if they don’t mean it like that ik what they are thinking. i can tell.
i guess its just weird for me? which again super narcissistic of me to say. but whatever thats how i feel thats how my life is going currently.
a random update on my life because none of my friends seem to care. ive been working out lately. and it makes me feel a lot better because im finally doing something for myself. i also have been listening to emma chamberlains podcast. which is really good i highly recommend.
im just happy i found this website tbh. bc now i can let things go and no one is reading these most likely but i really don’t care. i used to write stuff down, print it out, and put it in an envelope in my drawer where no one could find it. and this is so much better of an outlet! so i hope everyone else on this website feels the same.
life is definitely not all sunshine and rainbows for ANYONE. no matter how good ur life is there is always something. and as human beings we just have to get used to that. i truly believe no one can live a only happy life. bc in my opinion thats boring. its fun to have some stuff going on not just sunshine and rainbows. and maybe people will disagree with me which is completely fineeee.
anyway that’s it for right now at least i might come back later to talk more.
Hello, I see that this is a site where people share how sad they are and there are some helpful people out there. I hope I can get some nice feedback from others. I want to start off by saying that I am 21 years old. My grandma had passed away and it took a big toll on me. My family too of course, but for me I wanted to die. Ive attempted to kill myself and this sweet genuine old lady passed away and in my eyes it wasn’t her time to go. It honestly should’ve been me. Recently I’ve been kicked out of my house by my parents due to a big fight that went on. To sum that up, it was built up sadness and anger that took over me and I just blew it all at them which ended up me getting kicked out. Most of it was towards my mom..So now, I live with my grandpa. I don’t like living here very much but I got to bring along my dog who I see as my literal life line. He’s honestly my best friend. I never had a good relationship with my mom, I really feel like we always were together so much and it kind of bothered me? Because we never actually got to have a good time, we just always fought even over the littlest things. I was also diagnosed with depression a longtime ago. I overdosed in the summer of 2018 on Benadryl because I was ready to die. It feels like nobody cares about me. That feeling has never left. Not one time.When I overdosed all I got was my family yelling at me. Nothing but them telling me how dumb I am and how selfish I was for trying to kill myself. It made me feel worse and to this day I think about what they said and it makes me feel bad still. I developed a disorder called TTM, also known as Trichotillomania. This developed when I was around 7 years old. Its a hair pulling disorder which causes you go to bald depending how severe your disorder is. Its went away for around middle school and my high school years but unfortunately, it has gotten worse for me AGAIN. When im sad I seem to do it and I only pull the hair from my head so I have such bad scaring and a sensitive scalp because of it. I feel ugly, and seeing my bald spots make me feel uglier. You’d think I’d want to stop but I can’t. Sometimes I don’t even know im pulling until its too late and I have such a big clump of hair next to me. It hurts to see it but I just feel helpless. I get told to take my medicine which I am now taking Fluoxetine, and I feel it doesn’t do much. I get told to up my dosage but that doesn’t seem to do anything for me either, I really have no hope in doing anything. My mom has repeatedly told me that I “wouldn’t be so sad” had I taken my medicine every singled. I PROMISE you, I have and It has not helped me. Ive switched to many different anti depressants and the one that was super effective but in a negative was was Duloxetine. It made me feel no emotion and I was just tired all of the time. Now im back on Fluoxetine and it doesn’t help me either. I’m just so sad and I don’t know what to do anymore. I get yelled at for going out to walk my dog, get yelled at if I go get food for just my dog or just myself, and the people I live with just always want me to bring them stuff when im not able to buy 3 other people things all the time in the household. Ive been saving my money up to get a new place but it always gets depleted because they find a way to make me feel so bad about not spending money on them and its making me even more sad because I feel like just stuck. I started to cut myself again and I want to hurt myself so damn badly and I can feel myself everyday wanting to hurt myself again. I need help but im afraid to be sent away. I’m honestly really at my wits end. I’m about to overdose again. And the only person that I know will care is my dog. It hurts that I don’t want to leave him but I feel like I’m not going to get anywhere with how im feeling. I’m sorry that what I wrote was a lot
My closest attempts were when I felt useless. When the sinking I had felt in my chest, when the lack of energy, and utter hopelessness within me had no reason to live.
More recently, I thought I was doing better. I thought that I had won over these feelings, conquered them; sending them back to the depths of wherever they came.
I guess that was probably because I had gotten a job that I love. One that I thought was too much to handle, one that brought countless nights of stress to me… but now, under this quarantine, I feel myself slipping back into old habits.
I expect to still have my job when this is all over. It isn’t that I feel as though I have no future, in fact I feel very much so as though I do. Rather, it’s that no future feels worth living for. Or maybe they all do, but my will to live is just that weak.
I stay for those I care about; for those who I know deeply care for me. I couldn’t bear to hurt them.
But every night, I go to sleep wishing so deeply to die that night. Suicide is something so ingrained in to me, something I want so deeply, that only when I have a distraction that completely exhausts me can I begin to forget it.
It isn’t even always for the pain. Even if I feel fine, I just want to die. I just want to take my own life so badly.
Even with the will to stay alive for those I love, I find myself tempted to make another attempt. Each day, it becomes a more difficult fight to win. Just like it was back then.
I crave my own death more than I crave almost anything else. I suppose there is one thing I crave more… Which is a life of traveling, I suppose. But I’d hurt just as many people, if not many more, if I took that route. I think it would end up haunting me in the end because of that, even if I did decide to go down that path.
And then I’d be right back here, again. In this sinking pit, wishing that the life would leave my body each, and every night. Fighting off the urge to take it myself. Each, and every night.
idk whats wrong with me. no matter what i do nothing is good enough. I have a d in calc and im questioning gender again and march 15 is coming up. i planned to die two years ago on that day and fuck. everything hurts and i wanna relapse and i’ve lost all motivation to stay clean or do anything and fuck. i just want everything to be over.
Ok so me and my girlfriend have been together for 3 years and some change. I have not been the best boyfriend but I got myself together and made huge changes that I knew I needed to make. So last week I scroll through and see that she is in another relationship with another guy. I felt so much anger and sadness. It was a pain that I couldn’t describe but I wanted it to go away.
It hurts more because due to certain circumstances we were at her parents house and now its just me. She comes back and we cuddle and she says she loves me and I told her I’m going to fight for her. I know I led her on this path but it hurts when she leaves. It also hurts when its also Valentine’s Day season…….Idk. I have no one to talk to. I’m just lost.
One thousand, one hundred and fifteen days have gone by since we discovered you were no longer a part of this universe, our universe. It has gotten easier to process but it’s still not easy. The shock of it never ceases. It is still surreal. How can I summarize in words the cluster of pain we feel everyday given your absence? Let’s see. The reality that you are missing and missed our daughter and son’s 16th birthdays, his phenomenal culinary skills, his dream of becoming a chef and his fascination with living in Japan someday, our daughter’s early high school graduation, 18th birthday, first year of college and her being on the honor roll with a 3.81 GPA and her extraordinary producing and deejaying talents, is saddening. The reality that you will not be present for other monumental moments in their lives such as college graduations, weddings, births is even more heartbreaking. The thought that our beautiful daughter and handsome son haven’t had a male role model since you left, causes tears to well in my eyes almost every single day. When our son comes to me asking questions only a man can authentically answer, I do my best to fill your shoes but I shouldn’t have to. When our daughter tells me that a young man she’s dating reminds her of you in the way he protects her, it’s bittersweet. Bitter for obvious reasons and sweet because she at least has someone who, for that moment, is a positive reminder of you. You left us to pick up a million shattered pieces. You left me to raise two human beings that we created together, on my own and it hasn’t always been a breathtakingly gorgeous emotional walk in the park. There have been and will be countless nights I shut myself in and weep silently in my pillow so not to cast any more of a crushing burden on our children. Why couldn’t you have been strong enough to pull through the rough times? Why couldn’t you have in the darkest of hours, seen their four impressionable eyes staring back at you, counting on you to be the protector as you’d always been? Where did the tragic turn in the journey begin and ultimately end? Why did you let go of this thing called life? Was there something I could have done or, anyone for that matter, to change your mind? Is it unfair of me to call you weak, curse your ashes and regret the day I met you? Absolutely because obviously, you felt an indescribable hopelessness in which I simply cannot fathom. This tragedy has taught me, albeit a process, not to project so much but to lead with compassion, understanding and empathy. One never knows how rough someone’s terrain is until they too walk on that very terrain in that someone’s shoes. Just because there’s a smile on someone’s face doesn’t always mean their spirit shares that very sentiment. Who am I to judge you? Will I still have my moments of anger, sadness, confusion and a whole bunch of feelings and emotions I sometimes choose not to control just so I can allow myself to feel organically, versus distract myself and become numb? The answer is a resounding yes. I’m human and I’ll always wish you were here to see our babies, who are now young adults. Watching them triumphantly maneuver through this cold world we live carrying the legacy of you not being here on their backs, assures me they are resilient and in time, they will be just fine. They are truly champions and my hero and heroine. I cannot help but acknowledge and credit you though for most of what you instilled in them during the brief time you had in their world, which contributed to the stand up and strong human beings that they are. Thank you for that because outside of God’s love, those very attributes are the things that have enabled them to keep moving forward and upward, even when the light is so dim at the end of the tunnel. Not a day goes by in which we don’t share a story and/or a laugh about you and despite it all, you are terribly missed. I know that it will never be easy but each day, it will get easier. Continue to rest in peace.
You also must be ‘smart’ especially in terms of knowing how to make money. And often times, that also means you also have to be opportunistic, follow the system & rules (just like everybody else), even be cunning, sly, ruthless, brash, full of tricks, greedy, selfish, ready to step on other people who are ‘weaker’ (eg: poorer, etc).
Money is everything in our modern society today, unfortunately. It’s all about money nowadays. And if you can’t beat the system, then you have to join them. Everyday you are forced to survive, or for survival. And if you’re not strong enough to follow the system/rules, then too bad, either you will lose, get left out, get sidelined, trampled, kicked in a dirt, become a loser or failure in society, or you will die because you can’t survive.
Maybe life is just not for everyone. Maybe some of us are not meant to live in this world, society, existence, or whatever it is. Maybe it’s all really random and nihilistic, ie: some will live, and some will die. Just like ants, some will survive, and some will be killed, can’t survive, got unfortunate/bad luck, and die.
Life is depressing. Society is depressing. This world is depressing. Even all this whole existence thing is just depressing, mundane/boring, very limiting, sick, pointless/meaningless (for some people who really realize it), and honestly, everything is just so stupid.
In the midst of another outbreak of depression, I found this website through the magical wonder that is Google Chrome. Apparently, searching terms idly such as, “can i just die” and, “does my life matter” actually aren’t completely useless. Let’s start with some basics. My name is Adam. I am 15 years old as of writing this. My mother passed away due to complications regarding lung cancer about a year and a half ago, leaving my already dysfunctional family fractured in an injury that seems beyond healing. I struggle with severe social anxiety, which I believe to contribute a great deal to my depression. Anyways, here I am, ready to spill my heart and ideas out to a bunch of strangers around the world.
Writing this, I find my decision to even share this with anyone, much less people I don’t know on the internet, slightly odd. In thinking about that, I realize just how attention-starved I must be. After all, the only people in my life that seem to even remotely understand the position I’m in are the people who are paid to do so. Man, that’s a depressing thought. My father works all day, my brothers are in a constant state of distraction to avoid their problems, and my peers are too busy beating themselves up about having A-’s in one class. (I live in a predominantly wealthy Asian town in the Bay Area) In that case, writing this doesn’t feel too stupid. After all, you and I share something no? A bond over suffering, pain, and perhaps some trauma. With that in mind, I don’t wish for practical and literal things from people anymore. All I ask is for people to take the time to understand me, in which I am always left short. Maybe that’s why I’m here.
In my opinion, when viewed from a completely “rational” point of view, life is simply not worth living. It is my belief that even your average Joe will suffer far more than he experiences positivity and pleasure. From a mathematical perspective, negatives cancel out positives. If the end result is negative, then why live? Depression may seem like a corner that you’re trapped in, unable to experience happiness and positivity because there is none right?! Well I disagree with that. Depression distorts your perspective, making you interpret even the positive things as negative. If I were to grow older and survive the violence that I perceive to be adulthood, my goal would be to find a way to live with the ludicrousness that is society. This is in stark contrast to what I believe most people do; throw a bunch of shit on top of the wounds and hope they heal, or stay underneath all that shit so that that they don’t even realize the wound exists.
When searching random shit on Google for the 800th time, I happened upon an article attempting to reach out to people actively considering suicide. Out of curiosity, I read the article. One of it’s most facinating arguments was the idea that, “People consider suicide for relief from pain. Relief is a feeling, one you have to be alive to experience.” Have you ever told yourself or a trusted individual that, “I want to die, but I don’t want to kill myself.” That reality is one that keeps me alive everyday, somehow. Now is that my body biologically telling my brain that it wants to live, or is it something greater? I believe the latter. If you’re reading this, think about it. No matter where you are, what you’ve done, or how you feel, there has to be a future with a positive outcome right? For me at least, I’ve come to realize that I’m not as screwed in life as I would believe I was. Though I am far into a dark tunnel, the faint hints of light at the end begin to shine through in some of my better moments during each day. However, that alone won’t ease my mind. When everyday contains a similar struggle, seeing point B from point A won’t help you get to B. There are still many days between me and that moment.
With that in mind, I frequently ask myself, “Why?” Why should I keep fighting this war that I didn’t start? Why should I persevere? That is what drives the idea that suicide is even a remotely plausible option. Why continue? When life is pain, why keep going? For me, I’m still here because the idea of a light at the end of a tunnel, though not necessarily confirmed to exist, entices me to continue living. To cling on to life.
If you’re still here, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to hear what I have to say.