I do. It seriously feels like a disability often. You have so much that you have to worry about like making sure you don’t get raped. Every time I go out somewhere, I’m always told not to be out too late since it’s “especially dangerous for girls.” I hate that. That makes me try to dress as much like a boy as I can, so maybe I’ll be mistaken for one. I think about cutting my hair short and not shaving, but then I’ll be labeled as a “butch lesbian” since I am gay. It’s not fair. Aside from the obvious things like getting your period, I hate feeling like the world has less faith in women, like it’s believed they can’t get as much done just because of their gender. I don’t want to spend my entire life making sure I don’t get attacked by some dumbass that hates women or having to deal with possible discrimination. Whenever someone jokes that women are bad drivers or they suck at working with mechanics, I just want to hit them. Fine, maybe I just can’t take those types of jokes but I can’t help it. Â It’s so frustrating. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I love to shop, wear makeup, wear revealing outfits, or carry a huge purse wherever I go. I try to find shorts or jeans with deep pockets or take just a tiny bag with me. Guys, I hate this. I literally just want to die every time I’m reminded of what boundaries are set for me because of my gender. 🙁
I’m feeling so down. All I want to do is laying in my bed, sleeping, crying and cutting. I know I have to go to therapy every monday till friday from 9 am till 3 pm, but I really don’t want to do ANYTHING right now. I’m getting more scared and paranoid every day. Getting scared that someone is following me, or wants to steal my bag or purse. That kind of stupid things. I want to evade them, so I stay inside as much as possible. But the only thing I really want besides wanting to die, is just laying in my bed, sleeping, crying and cutting. That’s all that I want at this moment, because I’m too depressed and too down to do something else. I know I have to go to therapy because it will help me, but I would rather not go.
That shocked me. I’m not really suicidal, not really. I’m not brave enough to try. But my whole life, I’ve just been waiting to die. Because I don’t feel loveable. I feel like I exist just to bring misery to others, and that it’s my only purpose. My brothers called me Burden when I was little. I never wanted to be that. All I have ever wanted, my whole life, was for someone to look at me, and know me, from my charmingly crafted outer-persona to how I really feel, and just… Still like me. Still care about me. Every single person who I ever cared about has dropped me after I let them in. I am not worthy of another person’s love. And that stings. I try really hard to accept it, because the world isn’t equal and some people just aren’t destined for it. I’m one of them. My own mother hates me. The first time she told me that, I was thirteen. It was Mother’s Day, and I was so excited because she let me have money to buy her a mother’s day gift. I chose this awful pink purse, because she was always saying she wanted a summer purse (she has always loved purses and pink, so to a kid, it made sense), and after I bought it for it, she was OK until we got home and then she ranted outside of my bedroom for hours that she hated me, that I was stupid, that I pressured her into getting it, etc. And I just sat on my bed and cried silently while her deepest thoughts came out. Over a stupid purse. And I think that was when it hit me that I was truly not a loveable person.
Growing up, my siblings had been in and out of YDC and on probation all the time. I became my mom’s sound board from as early at two or three. I can remember being very, very little and sitting in the backseat of the car when she would tell me that on my eighteenth birthday, she was going to kill herself. I’m twenty one, so obviously that never happened, but I guess you can imagine how hearing that for eighteen years can be a bit of a downer.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this, other than… I know that I will never have a boyfriend or a husband, that I’ll never get to be a mom. I’ll never get to experience someone that really loves me, no holds barred. I’ll probably die a virgin. Hell, I’ll probably die without ever really being kissed. And I’ve accepted that. But now I’m just…. Going through life waiting to die. But how do I explain that the reason I don’t bother trying to succeed at anything is because I already know I’m a failure, and I just don’t care anymore? If you’re just waiting for death, what’s the point??
Unfortunately I’m still here. GotÂ interruptedÂ last week, had the bag on my head when this ***** i was fucking came over and screwed my plan. Still not gong to let that fuck my plan, another day, another plan.
This song fromÂ NotoriousÂ B.I.G, SuicidalÂ thought’s. I can relate to it, can you?
When I die,Â fuck it I wanna go to hell Cause I’m a piece of shit,
it ain’t hard to fuckin’ tell It don’t make sense,Â goin’ to heaven wit the goodie-goodies Dressed in white,
I like black Tims and black hoodies.
God will probably have me on some real strict shit No sleepin’ all day,Â no gettin my dick licked.
Hangin’ with the goodie-goodies loungin’ in paradise Fuck that shit,Â I wanna tote guns and shoot dice.
All my life I been considered as the worst Lyin’ to my mother,Â even stealin’ out her purse.
Crime after crime,Â from drugs to extortion.
I know my mother wished she got a fuckin’ abortion.
She don’t even love me like she did when I was younger.
Suckin’ on her chest just to stop my fuckin’ hunger.
I wonder if I died,Â would tears come to her eyes?
Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies.
My babies’ mothers 8 months,Â her little sister’s 2 Who’s to blame for both of them
(naw nigga, not you)
I swear to God I want to just slit my wrists and end this bullshit.
Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit And squeeze,
until the bed’s completely red I’m glad I’m dead,
a worthless fuckin’ buddah head The stress is buildin’ up,
I can’t believe suicide’s on my fuckin’ mind I want to leave,
I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin’ callin’ me But naw you wouldn’t understand
(nigga, talk to me please)
You see its kinda like the crack did to Pookie,
in New Jack Except when I cross over,
there ain’t no comin’ back Should I die on the train track,
like Remo in Beatstreet People at the funeral frontin’ like they miss me.
My baby momma kissed me but she glad I’m gone.
She knew me and her sista had somethin’ goin’ on.
I reach my peak,
I can’t speak,
call my nigga Chic,
tell him that my will is weak.
I’m sick of niggas lyin’,
I’m sick of bitches hawkin’,
matter of fact,
I’m sick of talkin’.
(hey yo big…hey yo big)
I can’t remember the last time I was truly happy.
I have no realÂ friends that I can talk to anymore and I have no idea what I truly want to do or where my life is going. I went to college and I have a stable job. But I didn’t make it in life. I am an average person; I am a loser. I wake up, go to work, eat, shower, watch TV, eat,Â read a book, sleep—repeat. That’s it. Nothing spectacular but nothing that miserable.
I am afraid this is my life. This is it. There is nothing more.
I no longer have any real desire. I used to want so many materialistic things and now I pretty much want nothing. I bought $2000 purse in attempt to get myself excited and failed. I felt nothing.
I have no real reason to commit suicide and I’m too proud to kill myself. What would people think of me?Â Be disgusted? And to die after all this hard work fails to make any sense.
I can’t die yet. I didn’t have any fun in life yet.
I want to rest,Â to not care, to not worry, to not cry, to not be alone, to not exist, to disappear.
I am completely unable to concentrate on my work because I am completely unable to stop thinking about the blade in my purse and the things i want to break and the cuts i want to make and the blood i want to spill and the pills i want to find and take and and and and and i feel like i am going completely insane and i don’t care about anything at all except for hurting myself. Â i can’t even concentrate on DBT skills which I promised to practice. Â i can’t concentrate on anything. Â i just want to hurt myself–with pills with knives with anything at all i can find. Â does anyone have ideas?
I was sectioned into a room by myself. I was still wearing my bathrobe which they checked and found nothing Because i had been down this path before i had secretly stored some tablets in a secret compartment in my purse, when the attendees had left me alone at my unit. I knew how to get away with this. I wanted to use them to put me to sleep as i knew they would have prescribed half the medication dosage that i was used to.
This was not the first time i have been inside and spent days and nights in a psychiatric Hospital.
All up in two different countries it would be my sixth time. I knew the routine and i knew what they would try and make me do. I knew the environment and what was in store for me. I never felt as though i was like the other patients. The majority who would walk monotonously up and down drugged up to their eyeballs with their mouths hanging open. I didn’t want to mix with any of them. I’d creep and dart around the walls and doors when the coast was clear. To anyone else i was probably just as crazy in my actions.
I remember one frightening marvel that some limp wristed moron must have thought was a good idea. They played “Born free” none stop everywhere. The patients wailing in anguished torment during the refrains.
“Born free, as free as the wind blows as free as the grass grows……”
All together now,
Some of the patients would be singing a few words behind the beat. Some would be shrieking in some other tongue. And one individual with enough grey matter still pulsing in his skull would rush in shouting to one of the singers, “Shut the fuck up ya carrrrn’t fuckin sing.
“Yes i can. I’ll fuckin burrrn ya. I’ll burrrn y’ alive. Nothin wrong me singing ya fuckin ****”
Karaoke sessions were a glimpse of hell in full swing.
My nurses kept on saying to me.
“Jayne, you won’t get better in here all by yourself. You have to get out here and mix in with everyone.”
You have got to be fucking kidding, i kept thinking. Mix it with Satan’s celestial nut choir?
Medication time was straight out of “One flew over the Cuckoo’s nest” a long line of addled slack jawed males and females trudging behind one another to the dispensary trolley. I refused to join the “Born free” queue. Instead they would come down in my obstinacy, and give me my medication in my room.
I did not have any visitors at all during my five day stay.
Mentally i was still thinking of suicidal thoughts. I was so alone and lost. My days spent crying under the sheet, curled up in a fetal position. The nurses failed to redress my feet that were seeping puss and blood over the white sheet. This was distressing me further.
In my pain i prayed to Jehovah. I asked him to take me away. “I’m no good on this earth. Why are you keeping me here?” And i prayed to him to look after Warren.
“I’m really so sorry Warren!”
I had several psychosis chats in the Quiet Room with doctors, while a nurse was present.
The root cause of my crisis was analyzed in depth ad nausea. The causes already known but never satiated. The best thing to come out of my stay that i was finally diagnosed with OCPD, lucky me.
I feel like im in this all by myself.no one cares about me im like so close to take these pills that i have hiden in my purse i cant do this i just need to get out of here i just feel like dieing i cant stop crying i dont want to hurt my mom but then again im hurting myself just staying here what should i do i just feel so lodt and alone in this world
Starting this Year January 29th, I became suicidal. And ever since, ive been a freak. I’m really tired of it and 2011 was the worst year of my life.
I don’t want to live past today. No one loves me, no one cares that I’m struggling and my mom doesn’t even show compassion at the fact that I’m depressed. Yesterday, my grandma found my cutting knife in my purse. My mom called me forever retarded and didn’t even take the time to realize I had been cutting myself and was struggling. I have the worst family ever.
I am probably going to kill myself tonight. Have fun stuck on Earth mom.