i am ruined. i am disgusting. i am used. i am repulsive. i am unclean. i am filthy. i am tainted.
it shouldn’t be this difficult. to get up, to function, to eat, to shower, to wash my face, to clean, to work. it shouldn’t be this difficult. I feel like I continue to hit a wall, attempt to stand back up, and immediately run back into it at full speed. withdrawal isn’t helping. the memory gaps continue to worsen. i barely remember what i did this week. the nightmares have been getting worse. you know what’s my fucking favorite? having a nightmare about abuse, waking up in the morning and thinking it’s over, go to bed that night only for the fucking nightmare to CONTINUE WHERE IT LEFT OFF. it makes it feel more real and I fucking hate it. it’s like my brain is trying to conjure up a nightmare bad enough to traumatize itself.
i fucking hate parasomnia.
Have you just wanted to grab all of your belongings. Everything that makes you, “you” and just pile it all up. Clothes, jewelry, bills, credit cards, medication….
Just a few ounces of lighter fluid and a match…it all just go away and leave nothing, but ash and smoke.
Watching it all burn down, all the materialistic shit that you have accumulated in all these long years….wishing that you could go into the fire and be burned away.
I don’t want to live anymore.
I just have no idea what to do anymore. I don’t want to be alive anymore but I can’t kill myself because anytime I think about doing it and how much I just don’t want to be forced to live on this rock, I see my parents and friends faces and how sad they’d be. This always brings a sense of hopelessness, I can’t die, I don’t wanna be here but I have to be so fuck what do I do. I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere on this whole world and constantly feel homesick for a place that I’m losing hope I could ever find. I have depression, anxiety and I’ve been using substances heavily for the past 2 years just to get through life. My parents just pulled me out of college, because my grades were shit. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve wished I could die since I was like probably 14 years old(I’m about to be 20 next month). The only thing keeping me here is me not wanting to make my family sad by me dying. If somehow they didn’t care or like accepted that I’m not cut out for this world and I knew I wouldn’t be hurting anyone with my decision I would die shortly after i found this out. I hate myself and everything I’ve become and I just don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like a failure to myself, my family, and my friends. Maybe someday they’ll all give up on me and I’ll be alone enough where my death won’t cause anyone else pain. I hope I don’t have to be the one to do it though. Maybe there’ll be a kid in front of a bus and I can push him out of the way and die in the process. Atleast then maybe my life would mean something and I could die like a hero, but I don’t think I deserve that. I don’t deserve anything but this misery I’m trapped in.
I really hate my body. I’m not fat, I’m not too ugly, I’m just covered with scars and a I hate it when I sweat. I actually hate my skin. I’m only 19 and I should be beautiful at this age. I can resist my stretch marks because almost everyone has them so they are natural but I can’t stand my scars. My body is full of those red things. They first appeared the first time I shaved my body hair and now they are everywhere on my hands and legs. I used to have tones of acnes on my face and now they’re gone but instead I have this stupid brown-red scars. It’s all my fault. I used to squeeze them because it felt really good. I still do it because it feels good, No matter how I know that I’ll hate my skin after doing it and how I know that it will get better if I don’t do it. I hate my body and it’s my fault and I can’t help it. What am I going to do?
I can stop squeezing them, I can go to the gym for couple of months and I will have the perfect body that I used to have. I can study a little bit. All I need to do to be able to love myself is to put some tiny little effort on my life and become active a little bit. I have all the facility, I KNOW I CAN live better and be really satisfied with myself.
I just don’t do it.
And I don’t know why.
I sit somewhere and I don’t do anything. I am mad at me to be such a lazy person. I hate making zero progress because of doing nothing.
I decided a while ago that self-hate is completely and utterly pointless. I don’t have any real reason to hate myself; neither does anyone else. You didn’t ask to come into this world. You were born, and you lived the life you did, and as much as you have free will, you are imperfect, and you will inevitably do stupid things. That’s not your fault. Your existence, no matter how good or bad you think it is, is not your fault. So try to redirect your self-hate. I, for example, choose instead to hate my life, not myself.
In hating my life instead, I often think of metaphors to describe it. I’m not sure what it does for me, but I’ll just randomly think “My life is a flaming pile of dog turd…” or I’ll see a documentary about plane crashes with graphic animation and think, “Wow, what an accurate representation of my entire life. Breaking apart into unrecognizable pieces and bursting into flames.” Pictures of epic car/train/plane wrecks, the thought of flaming piles of animal feces, a video of a building structure collapsing onto itself without any warning. These and many other fails and/or disasters are perfect metaphors of my entire exhausting, mediocre, relatively pointless life.
But my life is not my fault. And, if you take nothing else from this, remember that your life is not your fault.
Recently, I’ve began to feel entirely empty.
Even the one thing that I once loved to do and helped me not feel like a freak… I don’t feel different when doing said thing.
I’ve felt that I should die even more intensely, even to the point where from my last suicide attempt, I barely felt anything. Just vast emptiness.
I’ve also experienced even more self-hate for my body. I don’t like seeing my own face anymore. I’m beginning to not even like my own hair, the only thing that I was actually proud of about my body.
Well, I guess I shall end this post.
I want to overdose and die
I want death
I almost crave it.
How do I stop these thoughts? All I seem to think about is death. Suicide. Being pain free. Am I wrong for that? Am I being selfish? Don’t I have a say in my life? Yes… I am being selfish. And, yes, I am wrong.
Where has the time gone? I’m losing track of everything and I can’t seem to grip onto something and stay focused and keep moving with life. I feel so stuck and out of place and away from myself, from the world, from reality. I’m so lost and angry and horribly sad and I want nothing more than for all of my emotions to go away, to be eliminated. I want my life to be over. I have everything to lose and I’m okay with losing it. But then again I’m not. Then again I have my loves that I don’t want to hurt. Even though I’ve already hurt them. All I seem to do is hurt; myself and those around me. I don’t necessarily want to leave them… if only they could leave with me. If we could all end our pain together… that would be paradise.
I am so cold
Waiting for some warmth
Waiting for a breakthrough
I am empty and I am broken
Or maybe it’s all in my head
Maybe everything isn’t as bad as it seems
Maybe I’m just the problem
think know I’m the problem.
I’m always the problem.
I absolutely hate myself. I want to die. I want to be killed. I pray to God that I die in my sleep.
There’s always a lose/lose in my life, never a win, especially for the people around me. I benefit no one and nothing. I hate me and all that I am. I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I fucking hate myself. I just want to be dead already. I can’t even cry at this point… I feel like I’m in shock. This depression is me. I don’t like me. I don’t like me at all. I look in the mirror with disgust and confusion. God, I just want to die. Please, God, Please. Let me get an incurable disease and die. Let everyone around me be okay with my death and wish me luck, hope that I go to Heaven. Not that I deserve it. Because I don’t. I deserve nothing. But death. I don’t deserve the bitter sweet gift of life when all I do is misuse it and hurt others. I’m a failure. I’m ashamed of myself. There is nothing more that I can do or say. I am a complete failure, all that I feel for myself is hate and disgust and shame. So, why not kill myself? Then those around me would move on and be with people that won’t hurt them or let them down or waste their time.
“I’m nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody too?” –E.D.
Hi there person reading this my name is Barry :D. I hope you would read my story and how I’m at the point of just..being done. *Excuse my horrid grammar/spelling*
It all started when I started to live with my Mom. l had a step-dad, but I never really got to meet my real dad since he died in a car accident. It was around the age of 7 I think I moved with my Mom since I used to live with my grandma.
During elementary school people would judge me because of the way I walked. They used to say I always stuck out my chest and walked as if I was a girl. I didn’t really care that much. I didn’t know I was gay since I never found any boys or girls attractive so I didn’t really understood when they kept calling me gay and asking if I liked boys or girls since I always answered that I didn’t like any girls or boys.
Fast forward to Middle school. I matured a lot more since I was in elementary in school and understood a lot more than an average 6th grader. They always used to laugh at the way I walk and people would look at me and laugh. They just laugh at me because I’m gay. I didn’t care. Until 8th grade. It was 8th grade year and we were soon to be a freshmen in high school and I was so happy since I got to leave the hellish school that haunts me.
I rarely had any friends. About 4 or 3. I wasn’t social, I was just anti-social so I have bad conversation skills. I was usually called the quiet gay boy that was just plain boring. I just didn’t understand.
My birthday came and..that was the day that I think the depression started but I couldn’t really tell. I was walking back from lunch and these group of boys decided to throw their food at me and the admins of the school did NOTHING. After having food being thrown at me a boy came up from behind me and punched me in the jaw. I fell to the ground while everyone laughed and my friends just walked away. I felt like shit. I hated it. I came back home and usually my mom is out always working so when she came home I thought she had something special for me. Of course you would think that your mom wouldn’t forget about your birthday..right?
Well she did.
I then knew I was all alone and just cried the whole night.
Here comes freshmen year. I’m 14 now. I started self harming during the summer when I just couldn’t take it anymore. My mom never said ”I love you” back to me. Always worked never had enough time for me even when she had days off. She just didn’t care about me anymore. I didn’t have any friends so I was just always stuck in my room, doing nothing. Just on my computer consuming my days of loneliness.
The beginning of my freshmen year I spotted a boy I liked. Blonde hair, skin color white, with hazel eyes and a great smile. I asked about him through my friend Bryan and my friend Bryan said he knew him and they were friends. I was interested in him..but what I didn’t know is that I was being naive..
A couple days after I met him and we instantly became best friends. I always thought about him day and night, but I knew I shouldn’t but I did anyways. Falling in love with my straight best friend…one of the worst things that could happen to a gay guy.
He always hugs me and teases me…caresses my cheek and calls me ”Barry-boo” through text. He used to have a girlfriend but broke up with her and now is looking for another girl. I always kept telling myself that I shouldn’t love him…but I always thought about him day and night.
Kinda going off track here but..why would he want to be friends with me? I’m such a boring person. Why would a interesting amazing person like him be interested in becoming best friends with me? I don’t get it and its making me lost and hurt at the same time. I hate myself because I’m boring,lame,ugly,fat, and just plain lame.
Today I went over his house. I don’t know how I felt about that. I was glad I was with him but at the same time I was just telling my self to not think about him. Everytime I thought about him, I cut myself…and that didn’t go well..was hard to hide.
He gave me this dogtag that he got from this new orleans voodoo shop. He came up to me and grabbed it and put it over my neck. I felt…special..but at the same time I knew it wasn’t right. I don’t know why he gave it to me. He’s driving me insane and I don’t know what to do.
He knew I liked him but he still is doing what he does now.
It hurts so much..
then I have to deal with people laughing at me for being gay.
They look at me as if I’m a creature.
A creature from another planet that doesn’t belong here.
They call me harsh words but the worst part is when
they beat you just because you exist, just because you’re
What did I ever do?
I just can’t take these feelings anymore, they hurt so much.
For the past 7 years I’ve made decisions that only bring me problems. Every time it seems I overcome something, I’ll make a shitty decision that’ll drag me for yet another ride through unpleasant times. I can’t keep up with responsibilities and I’ve slowly but surely tried to get rid of them. One of the few things I was proud of in myself, the value I put in giving my word, is completely gone, as I keep telling people I’ll do something only to give up on it for what seems to be no reason at all. I was supposed to finish college this semester but I’m one year behind. Due to money issues, me being able to keeping attending would mean sacrifices on my family’s part. That’s something I don’t want because I don’t believe I can change and start attending classes after 3 years of not doing so at all. It would just be a waste. Surely one could say that should be used as motivation to set things straight, but judging by past experience I’m not the sort of person who cares about honoring people’s efforts to help me, even though I do hate myself for wasting opportunities and letting them down. Yet I feel cornered because while I won’t say I’ll work hard to stay here, I don’t want to go back to living with my parents either. The one reason I am alive right now is my boyfriend, but every day I can’t help but feel someone as selfish as me doesn’t deserve a guy that understanding and nice. Today I had a test. I didn’t go. Reason? None at all, I just didn’t feel like it. Then I spent the rest of the day ignoring phone calls and being terrified of confronting my parents about it. I’m completely lost. I have nothing I want to do, I have nothing I’m confident I can do at all. I’ve pondered getting some good old job as a supermarket cashier and keep living on my own, but I don’t think I could keep it. Whenever I sit down on a bus and close my eyes, gory images of me being tortured or killed. No one in particular is doing it, it’s just something spontaneously happening. Yesterday night I gave in after keeping the promise I made to my parents of not harming myself for 2 years. I hate myself for having broken it. I hate myself for every little thing but I’m too caught up in this self-image to even feel any sort of drive to change. I simply relish it at the same time I want it to end. I do have reasons to live. Just one or two things I care about, but they exist. However, I feel it’s harder and harder to cope with everything else. Sure, I have things I care about, but what can I do with them? My situation isn’t sustainable, and those things I care about won’t help in changing it. I have no idea what to do to turn things around. I just want to run away from everything that asks me for satisfactions, yet I don’t have the means to do so. I can name a number of things that could probably give me those means but between lacking the courage to make what could be a wrong decision (and what everyone tells me is a wrong decision) and fully believing I would just fail in the end, I stay away from them. There’s really no point to this disjointed mess of thoughts without proper formatting and not providing context or a reasonable flow probably makes it even more unreadable, but whatever. I don’t care. Guess I just needed to vent.
At age 6 I was raped. I covered it up, pretended to be happy. Pretended it didn’t happen. I was extremely shy and scared of people. He told me he would kill me if I told anyone.
When I was 7 my family moved. Leaving the man who raped me behind. I still miss the country side, my brother and I would go into the woods and catch animals. We had 2 begals, my dad traded them for a pig. He slautered it.
When school started I wasn’t very popular, and people bullied me. Calling me crack hills when I bent over, shoving me in the hall, telling me I would never have any friends. I believed them. Second grade was the same, still bullied, still beaten.
Third grade a group of girls, the popular girls. Amanda, Ashley, and Amy asked me if I wanted to be part of there group. I should have known better, I should never had hope. For about 2-3 days we ate lunch together and then played on the play ground. I was so happy to have friends but I should have known. The fourth day, a Thursday. After lunch they told me they had something to show me. I thought it was going to be special like a final initiation into there group. On the play ground they lead me around the gym to an empty field where the teachers couldn’t see us. All the way back against the gym wall they crouded around me. Amy the leader looked at me, then gave me a smile, examined her nailed then without looking up she said ” Amanda”. Amanda jumped at me wrapping my arms around my back. Confused I looked at Amy. “What..?” Is as far as I get, before Amy slaps me across my face. First surprise hits me, then pain in my left cheek. Tears well up in my eyes. Amy smirks and says “Oh don’t be a baby”. Then before I realize it she kicks me in the stomach. I feel like throwing up as I start falling backward thinking Amanda would catch me but instead moves so my head bangs back on the brick wall of the gym. Tears start pouring out of my eyes as they crowd around me. No I think they start kicking me first Amy at my stomach again, Amanda kicking the back of my head, and Ashly at my legs. Crying I get into the fetal position as they continue to kick me harder. I deserve this I think, crying harder after about 5-10 minutes of kicking me Amy prysmy hands from my face. “Your an ugly loser, and no one is ever going to be friends with you, you stupid *****” she spits on my face and the other two girls spit on me too. “Loser” they say in unison holding there hands as L’s on there foreheads.
I’ve come to realize that when someone asks any variation of “how are you?” They don’t want to hear the truth. They want to hear something along the lines of “I’m good, thanks.” So they can go on and not feel guilty about not having asked why you’re sad. If you didn’t admit it, you’re not right?
The same goes for when they do actually ask if you’re upset about something. They don’t want to hear that you feel like your entire life is crumbling around you, they just want to look like a caring person for five seconds.
So you hide behind “I’m fine” and “just tired”, as if repeating yourself over and over everyday will somehow make it true.
Of course, normally I do feel exhausted anytime I’m forced out of my warm bed, but that’s beside the point.
The point is I spend eight hours of my day trying not to fall asleep in class so I can pass. Now, I wouldn’t care less about passing if getting the highest possible GPA and a scholarship at the end of my high school career wasn’t the only way I could get out of this dreadful town.
You’d think that after those eight lost hours every week day (except Fridays) I would be relieved I get to go home and relax. Which I would be, if that wasn’t the opposite of what happened once I got home. Because home is where all I can hear is arguing parents and loud ass siblings. And within this crazy mess of an unhappy family is the eldest daughter who is always ignored. That is, until she screws one little thing up.
See in my house, I am the one who sits in the background and behaves herself. I am the one who’s opinions and questions don’t matter. I have to scream over a tv to gain my fathers attention for more than a second. Which only means it’s gone after two.
So I have grown accustomed to fading into the background and disappearing to my room every afternoon.
The days I am forced to stay downstairs are also the ones that I have to actually witness every member of my immediate family complain about me. (Most of the time I have to accidentally overhear). But as if my parents complaining about me when I’m not around isn’t enough, I get to hear how worthless right then and there.
So it’s only natural that I have become absolutely convinced that I’m not allowed to screw up because they will hate me more if I do. And when I do screw up like all humans do, I seriously feel the urge to throw myself off a bridge.
Back to the original topic, after I have successfully survived dinner and my chores I can actually retreat to my room and have some peace. But instead of this being a happy place I can escape to, my room (and more specifically my bed) has become the place I can’t escape. By the time I open the door, a day’s worth of frustration and self loathing is pouring out of my tear ducts. Of course I lie in my bed for hours throughout the night telling myself I am worthless and it’s no wonder no one talks to me. So of course I don’t get much sleep. Late night tears and hideous thoughts plague my nights.
And let me tell you one thing if you haven’t already figured it out; this royally sucks and the only thing I wish for when 11:11 rolls around is the happiness I’ve forgotten. Even if it means a premature, self-inflicted death.
I turn twenty in September. I stand at 5’4”, 123 lbs, and am generally a healthy eater. I played the piano for seven years when I was younger and received copious amounts of praise for my talent. I enrolled in various activities, from fencing to tae kwon doe to art classes. I graduated high school with a 3.96 GPA and seven Advanced Placement courses under my belt. After all that, I was accepted into a prestigious university and ready to blossom into a confident, intelligent, self-sufficient and successful young woman, to break out of my shell, to take on the world.
I haven’t blossomed. In fact, I’ve completely wilted. It’s still difficult for me to fully grasp the predicament I’m in. I have failed out of four classes and one more semester on academic probation means my enrollment will be withheld. My parents still don’t know and if they ever did find out… I blanch at the possible consequences. I still can’t drive on my own even though I got my license two years ago. I don’t have a job. I worked dish-room at my last job in the school cafeteria because I was too afraid to go out to the serving counters where I would have to interact with others. I avoid phone calls or worse, voicemails, and often find my mind blanking when I have to engage in them. The thought of facing job interviews makes me want to cry in frustration.
A lot of times I want to hide indoors, to avoid anything requiring social interaction or effort or ability – simply because it’s stressful. Life feels so empty and meaningless these days. I have never considered a suicide attempt because I’m weak about dealing with physical pain, but sometimes I just think about giving up. It’s such an ambiguous phrase with multiple meanings but I would desperately, blindly accept any of them in a heartbeat. Perhaps it’s the opportunity to move far, far away and leave the past twenty years behind. Or the option to curl up in fetal position, close my eyes, and make everything disappear. Or maybe just… fade away painlessly without any trace that I ever existed.
I’ve found that the way I am just simply doesn’t harmonize with how the world works. And it scares me to live in a world where I don’t belong.
I don’t think I was ever truly happy in high school but it took me a while to figure that out. I was eighteen when I first got the inkling that something was wrong, so I reached out to the counseling office at my school. I went to one therapy session and it was a complete waste of time. My counselor was grad psych student and I didn’t believe for one second that she actually gave a shit. Her demeanor seemed so mechanical, as if she was just going off a set of etiquette tips and instructions for dealing with patients. She told me I had social anxiety and depression and wanted to refer me to a psychiatrist. When I tried to tell my mom about the possibility of depression, she completely dismissed it. With this incredulous look on her face and the slightest hint of a mocking smile. So then, I dismissed it too. And I went about my days thinking I was fine.
It started becoming a problem about six months ago. I was skipping classes every day, sleeping until at least 2 PM. At my worst, which ran its course for about 2 months, I was waking up at 3 or 4 PM every day. I was overwhelmed with the thought of schoolwork and my solution was to escape it with trivial distractions. I dreaded mental challenges. I felt lethargic and emotionless most of the time but I would bawl my eyes out uncontrollably whenever I drank alcohol.
And now, being home for summer is not therapeutic at all. It’s making me feel worse, if that’s even possible. I go about my days browsing the web with very little human interaction. Sometimes I exercise if I’m feeling up to it. This house is just so cold and uncommunicative. It’s a dreary and obstructive backdrop. And the guilt of knowing that I’ve failed my parents makes it even harder to be in the same vicinity as them. I cry myself to sleep at least every other night.
I went for an annual check-up at the doctor’s office a few weeks ago and my doctor informed me that she had concerns about depression. I’ve been in denial this whole time but after seeing failure after failure spelled out for me on paper, I’m realizing it’s beginning to have an evident impact on my life.
Those are just facts. I fucking hate myself for being weak like this. I want to punch a fucking wall. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, knowing that these are all stupid fucking first world problems.
There is more to say but it overwhelms me to even think about starting on that so I’ll just leave it be for now.
I feel so fucking useless. There is so much suffering and the world is tearing itself apart around me and here i am being a whiny little ***** helping nothing and no-one doing no good for anyone, anyone at all. I am useless.
I have no right to feel sad all the time. I should be fucking appreciative of everything i have because i know there are people out there that would give anything to live the life i do. But i’m too fucking selfish to be appreciative. The world is so unfair, that people like me who deserve nothing can have a good life and stable family etc and people who actually fucking deserve it don’t. And i do fuck all to change this, i’m sitting here whining about how unfair the world is on everyone and not even fucking trying to change it! I hate myself for that, i hate myself so much. At this point i just want to reduce the amount of damage i inflict on this world and i don’t even really know how to do that. I’m selfish, i’m pathetic and i don’t matter not one little bit. What the hell is the point?
I’m just so tried and my brain is so fucking fried that i don’t even know if any of this makes sense for fuck sake. Â Have i at least somewhat got across what i’m trying to say?????
missed work today and i hate myself for it. i couldn’t even call in, because i could not physically get out of bed to reach my phone. god dammit. what is wrong with me?
i am so damn sick and I can’t get the treatment that i need to get better. My current therapist is useless, and has misgendered me more than once. I can’t even go to a physical doctor without panicking that they’ll make me take my clothes off.
trying to treat one thing without the other things just isn’t working anymore. i dont’ even know what i need, but I need /something/. i’m so f-king sick. distracting myself so I dont’ take even more pills.
Fuck myself, fuck everything.
I’m in a perpetual emotional tilt. Dazed and confused. Head spinning.
Legs shaking. Feel like smashing stuff.
I would be a calm guy, I would. IÂ am thatÂ guy. But have no choice anymore. I’m losing it.
There’s no choice. It all bullshit. Its in me and from the past. Its fatum.
Hey, I believed in peace and justice and all that. But seriously, if I had power, before abolishing this type of financial system, etc, I would FUCKING WHIP everybody first!
Just fucking burn, Just fucking burn.
All nonsense. I have nothing, nothing. Worthy men have died younger than me, so what the fuck? Why do I fucking deserve to live longer, say, than Mozart? I’m deadly serious.
Every life is precious? Tell that to bankters. Tell that to the billions of human meat. All words and abstract perpectives. Lies all!
Give me beatiful illusions!!! Fuck it!
I fucking desapoint myself all the fucking time! No choice. Nowhere to run.
Fuck, actually I should just take my savings, live in my car travelling europe then kill myself. Better that plan than stay here with my self hate and pity. FUCK!
I can’t stand it. I could’ve been more and i’m this piece of shit. A piece of shit!
My life’s been over a long time ago. Just fucking admit it! You don’t have to live forever! Hell, that would be torment. If there’s an afterlife I will insult all gods until my lungs burst. Fuck that.
And no, it not simply depression or chemical imbalance (money fucking schemes), life did it to me, yes it did.
Fuck it, another useless soul…
whats wong with meÂ me evrey thing i see and feel seems to explode in to a ball of self hate and biter rageÂ is there eney thing left for me here in this world with out hope its like i die evrey night i feel dead im sick of the same old shit that piles its self up on my door srowndid in a room one windo a gutar for fuck sake i cant see the floor for all the shit that i cant be botherd to cleen up is this how im going to live my life hevey metel and the cach frase of cant be botherd is this how its going to play out all the times that iv tryed and fuck i tryed rely hard i dont know if i whant to be here no more nt even shure if i need to
all of my â€œfriendsâ€ couldnâ€™t care about me and recently iâ€™m realizing that. i lost one of my â€œclosestâ€ friends last thursday because he called me a self-centered b**** and claimed heâ€™d been there for me through everything and i hadnâ€™t given a f*** about him once and never did for anybody. for once, i actually stood up for myself and told him that he was wrong and that sparked things. now weâ€™re not talking.
i miss days from school a lot too and not once has anyone asked in the past few months where iâ€™d been or if i was alright. they donâ€™t even care. i always have to be the first to start conversations, be the first to go over to someone and be the first to do anything or else they just donâ€™t make the effort and that bothers me. i feel like if i stopped making the effort first, not turning up to school and being more quiet they wouldnâ€™t even care/notice.
when i really think about it, itâ€™s been like that for quite a long time. i just feel like iâ€™ve got a really boring, pathetic personality. iâ€™m not overly-outgoing, iâ€™m not really funny, iâ€™m not good at speaking with people, i donâ€™t know what to say half the time, iâ€™m not loaded with interesting facts/things to say, iâ€™m just boring. iâ€™m quiet unless iâ€™m around my friends, iâ€™m scared of confrontation, iâ€™m a push-over, iâ€™m too caring and i put too much belief and love in people who really donâ€™t care. i try so hard to be a good person and to help people and listen to what people have to say but it always comes and hits me back in the face. i donâ€™t know why i have such shitty friends and i donâ€™t know why little shitty things keep happening because i try so fucking hard to be a good person that people can always fall back on when everything else leaves them. i am constantly trying to help other people, trying to solve their issues for them or being someone they can rant to and all i seem to get back for it is nothing. itâ€™s not that i want anything back, i really donâ€™t. i just wish that people would be a little grateful for how much i listen and how much i let them walk all over me and not turn their back on me and ignore me when they donâ€™t need me anymore.
iâ€™ve always tried to make other peoples lives better even if that means mine is made worse and i feel like i should try and change that but i donâ€™t know how or if i could. when i try to stand up for myself or be aggressive i beat myself up for days afterwards because it just feels so wrong. iâ€™m naturally just a nice person and i know that should be a good thing but i really hate it and i wish that i could be a bit more confident in myself and more able to stand up for myself. the massive downfall with being an overcaring person as well is whenever you hurt someone you love even a little bit, your whole world just shatters and itâ€™s affects you for days and itâ€™s the most painful thing. i just hate myself so much, ahaha.
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