each and everyday is a part of my history, a history that will be with me forever. unfortunately, i know that forever, i am going to look back on these years of my life and all i’m going to see will be an ugly kid with mental illnesses and no friends, just, wasting her life away. i want my history, i want my past, present, and future, to be happy, i want to do something worthwhile rather than just doing this wasting. uhm, yeah… this is not really what i imagined my life would be like.
After graduating high school, I became a hermit for four years. During that period of isolation, I grew depressed and developed an intense fear of being seen by other people. The thought of killing myself came up frequently, but I was more comfortable in those days than any other time of my adult life. Now I have a job for the first time and live in a better house with my brother, but I still don’t feel much better. How people are able to connect with each other has always puzzled me. What is the point of living if you don’t even have people who value you? No one wants me. My family is used to me, but do they want me? I’m always second to someone. The minute I decide to put myself out there, suddenly the other person draws back and ignores me. This really isn’t coming out right, but all I want now is something to make me feel better. I’ve been wasting my money on things with the intention of gaining some relief. Alcohol did nothing but make me dizzy and I’m too ugly to drown my feelings in sex(I’m a woman by the way). I swear to god all I think about these days is getting fucked. I’m 22 years old yet I look like a sad, chubby, gender-less child. I hate myself. There was a time when I literally was afraid to look at myself in a mirror. A guy at work who I see everyday didn’t bother to learn my name until some other girl told him over the phone ( we wear name tags). I don’t have any ambition so it’s not like I can ignore the superficial in favor of pursuing some fucking goal. So I just eat. That’s all that makes me feel better these days. Fuck it. If I ever lose my virginity, it will probably be a brutal rape like that girl in the movie Ma Soeur. That’s all I’m worth…
i have no friends.
i haven’t attended school for two years.
my family are abusive.
my life is a mess, and i can’t clean it up.
i have nothing going for me,
and i am going nowhere.
i’ve ruined myself and my life.
i am so ugly, i am sick of it.
i hate my eyes, i hate myself.
i hate the way i have to rely on makeup to look even remotely nice, and i hate the problems that come with the makeup.
i hate how i wake up every morning, feeling and looking disgusting.
being ugly is probably the root to a few of my problems.
my ugliness will never change or be fixed.
being ugly means i will never be happy.
i am so sick of being ugly.
i am ugly – my eyes are ugly. everything else about me is fine, perfect, even, but my eyes – they are so ugly.
i don’t know what has happened to them – they used to be pretty. the past few years, they have started to change, for some reason. the only way i can ‘fix’ it is by wearing winged eyeliner and eyeliner on my waterline, and sometimes they can look great, but usually, they don’t. i mean, they look decent, as i’m pretty good at makeup, but two minutes after applying the eyeliner on my waterline, it just doesn’t look as good as it did when i first put it on, which changes how my eyes, and then the rest of my face, look.
it makes me very upset, and has made me lose a lot of confidence – i mean, i have social anxiety too, but i feel as though if my eyes were pretty, it would make my entire face look pretty, and i would feel confident enough to be able to do normal, everyday things. you wouldn’t believe how different i look with and without makeup on.
i’ve tried to understand why my eyes have changed these past couple years. i used to suffer from trichotillomania, and would pull my eyelashes out, except, i developed that at age 8, and my eyes didn’t start changing until around 10 years old. i’m 13 now, and even though all my lashes have grown back, my eyes don’t look how they used to. is it just what is natural, and am i just going to have my eyes and my face like this forever? will i be ugly forever?
(ps – i just joined this website, i don’t know how to look or even respond to comments or messages, so, sorry if i don’t reply)
Imperfection What is perfect to me?
I always thought that being a perfect person was to one, just be skinny. That was the main point, to be skinny. Everyone loves skinny girls, right? No one loves fat, but apparently that’s all I have. That’s my blanket around my bones.
I look at my reflection every single day and just examined myself, and my flaws. I stare at how my hips are wide and how fat covers every inch, also on how my shoulders are wide and broad. I look at my small breast and my fat thighs. I look at my scars that are painted across my arms and thighs.
When I do look at myself in the mirror and I wonder,”Why do I have to be me?” Sometimes I just walk past girls and I envy them for being so beautiful so perfect. I wish I could be like them, I love how much confidence they have as they walk or how beautiful they look at all times. Everyone looks so beautiful in my eyes, but when I look in the mirror I cry.
Today I cried, I cried for being so ugly! For being so imperfect I hate being myself. I hate waking up to another day of torture. I hate going to school and I hate all the people there. It’s so hard to on how everyone has someone. Then there’s me the girl who is never going to be good enough for anyone. She’s just too ugly for my own good.
Im just the girl that everyone hates.
But don’t worry I hate myself too.
I’m old now. I wasted my youth being too scared to go out and have fun. Instead i worked at a crappy department store using my money to help my family out of endless drama until I was thinking about killing myself every day. So I re enrolled in college with big plans to be a art teacher. Today I failed the $90 Praxis exam for the 4th time. I was not even close. I’ve missed the deadline to be screened into the education program again and will have to wait another year. This is the only thing I’ve ever tried to to for myself, just for me. But I failed again. I’m a loser. I live at home with my parents, I’m fat and ugly, and I don’t really have any friends. I hate myself. I want to die right now but I don’t want to go to hell or have my family have to pay back my student loans. I’m going to look into finding a way my family wont have to pay back my loans and if I can do it I think I’m going to let go. If God isn’t real and I just stopped existing I would be ok with that. Really I have been thinking about it for a long time and Not existing would be better than all this misery and pain. I don’t know I just wanted to tell someone without them calling the police on me or making me feel guilty. The only thing i am actually good at is working like a dog and spending all my money on my family. I’m a mistake.
Well, very average at best. I long ago accepted my ugliness and depression but just recently after many years they’ve started to bother me again, making me more suicidal. Why? I already came to terms with it. Seems life just wants me to carry on suffering and beating myself up about it. Looks are everything to people nowadays and everyone knows it. They are the passport to a much easier life and happiness.
You’re most likely wondering why I so boldly asked for you to read this post. Well, I did so because I have something to say that I believe will benefit you, no matter if this site applies to you or not.
I’ve had an unbelievable amount of personal experiences in my life that in reality could have shattered me from the start but instead, here I am writing this post. I’m not going to tell you that your life will automatically improve after this, or that you will immediately see a change, but what I hope that it will help you in some way shape or form. From an open-minded and accepting friend, I hope you will learn from my experiences as I have learned from others.
~I promise you that nothing I say below is untrue nor exaggerated~
My mother was (and still is) a huge administrator of emotional abuse. She made me and my sibling’s lives a living hell. When I was really little, she and my dad were always working and when they did come home, my dad would shout and stomp and my mom would shriek and scream. My dad was on some heavy medication (presently I believe they were prescription steroids and narcotics) for his back because of his 13 surgeries (he’s always had medical issues. It’s just the way his body works). We were afraid around my dad and around my mom, she would just complain and yell about my dad. They fought constantly and it became fairly normal.
That being said, my grandma raised us three alone for the most part. We lived in a nice house, but were constantly called spoiled brats because of it. People at school made me feel guilty for wearing nice clothes all the time. I didn’t care about those nice things though… (I came to want only to be loved, but that comes later). The three of us fought a lot and were yelled at, but that was a result of not being supervised enough.
Our grandfather was a religious nut who was kicked out of multiple churches for arguing with the pastor over the type of bible they used. He walked to the city every day just to hand out bible tracks. Every time he said goodbye, he would add “guess who loves you the most?” and after we would of course HAVE to say God, he would say “Yeah! That’s right!”. Every other religion was the devil’s religion. Nonreligious music and non-christian books were pagan. One time I wore a two piece swimsuit to his pool and he told me I wasn’t allowed to swim looking like a whore (I was in 5th grade).
Starting from first grade onward, as the oldest, I was the first to face the jaws of elementary school, where according to mom, I had to be the best in everything or there was no point to doing it and you were a failure. I was pressured to get A’s on everything and to be the best at sports and at music. I played soccer, basketball, and then softball where I settled and still play today. I only had one friend and she was my everything. We did everything together and shared everything. So while I whirled around in a sea of advanced papers, practice two times a week, games on weekends, and viola lessons each week, she stood by me. In third grade I secluded myself after we weren’t in the same class. I had no one and after getting glasses, my self confidence plummeted. The yelling became worse. The screaming, the degradation. I just wasn’t socially adaptable. Sorry mom. My recesses were better spent inside doing multiplication and reading the Twilight series anyways.
In fourth grade, I got contacts and started making more friends (a few acquaintances) and in fifth grade, my best friend was back. We weren’t as close, but we had a small group. I also found my first boyfriend, a tall handsome little boy with black hair who would send me “I kinda like you” letters which turned into “Goodnight I love you” texts in 6th grade. I still was socially awkward and had a hard time making friends, but it couldn’t be helped. My home stayed the same oppressive prison as always and my siblings were dragged down with it. My sister was even worse at making friends than I was, and my brother, little did I know yet, was turning into a rather rude and uncaring individual.
During the first year of middle school, I guess I sort of reverted back to my third grade days. I didn’t have a “true friend”, but I had my boyfriend… Who dumped me after the school dance. I cried, as all the heartbroken do, and got over it. So much for first loves.
Eighth grade was the year that completely changed everything. Immediately, I found myself whirled into an unlikely friend group of my current best friend who will never leave and is too amazing to explain (P), an almost-insane spunky girl (SE), an outrageously hilarious girl with a darker side (SA), and a smarter, more quiet, rational thinking girl (K). Together, we bonded over a private joke we created about a group of old ladies starring in our fictional movie “Rest in Pieces”, involving a murder, a clinically insane twin, and humor. We all had old lady names which we called each other. I was Petunia, P was Edith, SE was Gertrude, SA was Mildred, and K was Pearl. We were always together and always talked about things with each other. That year I also acquired a boyfriend (G). I was absolutely infatuated with him. He was tall, funny, strong, and cute (sorry to all of you readers who hate this sort of thing. You can skim it if you would like 😛 ). What drew me to him however, was how he always had people around him, yet hated the attention. His dad had just died the previous year and I wanted to help in whatever ways I could. He was my first serious boyfriend and at one point, though it sounds silly, I fell in love with him.
Funny thing is though, you only find out how much you love someone after they’re gone. SA flirted with him constantly and even though I told her to quit it three times, he broke up with me the Summer before high school started. On my birthday. First thing in the morning. Yeah… That wasn’t exactly my favorite birthday gift, seeing as he was my first kiss… I resented SA after that and when high school started, I didn’t talk to her. She knew it though and every morning while they were making out, I scooted right on past (and yes, they really did that and it was really that gross).
Things at home with my mom were coming to a boiling point. My dad was getting better as his last surgery had really helped him and finally he was back on his feet. He became happier and easier to talk to while my mom only screamed louder. She called me pathetic, lazy, stupid, ugly on the inside and out, fat, unbecoming, brat, *****, mute, rude, mean, idiot, nasty, ugly, arrogant, useless, antisocial, friendless, waste of talent, waste of money, hopeless, snotty, and other names. These were just the ones I had written down. At softball, which I played on year round on a travel team, I felt increasingly more pain every time I threw the ball. So much so that I was popping Advil like candy.
But at school, I fell for a boy with blond hair and misty green eyes in my history class. I still remember the day that he said he wanted to go to Japan and because I sat right next to him, I automatically piped in “really, me too!”. I just hoped he didn’t catch me staring at him too many times… But besides that, grade stress weighed down on me. I found out that high school wasn’t easy if you still want those A’s, and being in the gifted program only means you lose more sleep. Stress and anxiety did not help my arm pain and the situation back home.
Eventually, after multiple misdiagnosis’s, I finally found out that I had a torn ulnar collateral ligament and could ether get a Tommy John surgery, or never play softball again. Seeing as I had already invested so much time into the sport, I decided to get the surgery. On January 12th of 2015, I woke up from a successful surgery, but with 3 little ugly scars, one gruesome big winding scar, and a hulking cast. I partially blamed my mom for the surgery seeing as every time I told her it hurt, she wrote it off as an excuse and sent me back out on the field to damage it some more. Over that post-operation period, none of my friends contacted me (except for P who asked once how I was doing).
I went in a few days later to take my finals which I had missed. I took my algebra 2 and honors history finals while on narcotics and ended with A’s which I was happy with. But when I was permanently back, things started to turn around for the boy with blond hair and I (J). We began to talk and I fell for him more and more (sorry readers who don’t like sappy romance, but he plays and important role!). Eventually he became my boyfriend and while G and SA made out in the open hallway, we sat at the end and just talked to each other. Sometimes he would even bring me breakfast and I would in return bring him some as well.
We talked about where we wanted to travel, about politics (rarely), about our favorite music (he liked country, I liked classical, alternative, and soundtracks), about TV (which mainly consisted of anime because I’m the biggest closet anime fan anyone will ever know… Inuyasha anyone?), and many other things. We were best friends who happened to really like each other and that like eventually turned into love. He was the first boy I ever let do more than kiss (disclaimer, we both kept everything below the waist on, I repeat, pants on people!). But I felt good about it, not ashamed. I did it because I trusted him.
When Summer came, we were both busy me with sports, him with camps and trips and such. When we did get together though, we did fun things. He took me to a wolf preserve and on my birthday, gave me pale lavender roses and a beautiful silver necklace that I treasured and took with me to Europe. Things were especially great when he came down to the beach with my family and one night I snuck into his room and we JUST laid together (nothing more… I just always wanted to fall asleep in a boy’s arms…) . Waking up early, I slipped back into the other room and to this day, I treasure that memory with all my heart.
But when 10th grade started up, we had no classes together. I found out that SA and G had broken up as well. She and I reconciled and our friends were whole again. Things quickly turned for the worst though, when I joined a new team with an abusive, loud, drill sergeant of a coach who made us do conditioning until we felt like we were going to vomit and made each of us cry at least one practice. I got a new viola teacher after outgrowing the other one, but he made me feel like I was doing everything wrong and wasn’t good enough… I didn’t practice for the months I was with him. 10th grade was even more work than 9th grade and I began to get anxiety attacks as things at home heated up again and again. So I broke up with J to save him from the burden of my life. I cried while doing it and after he hugged me, I knew I had made a mistake. I knew it but didn’t say anything. Instead, I cut my long hair and cried.
And cried. And cried. And had a panic attack. And cried. And then I learned that SA had been sexually abused by G and had attempted to end her life. She cut her wrists frequently and had tried to jump off of a roof. As messed up as I was, I tried to help her all that I could. We became close and bonded over our love of Studio Ghibli and view of life. I had somehow prolonged her life and in doing so, mine as well.
In February of 2016, I went to J and asked for him back only for him to say no. He said it would be best if we remained friends. Immediately after that I learned that he had gotten a new girlfriend, a girl a year older than him who in all unbiased honesty, was not as pretty, not athletic, not as smart, and just not prominent in any way besides the fact that she played the same instrument as him (which is percussion…).
A little before that, my sister declared that she didn’t want to be a girl and she didn’t really want to be a boy, but a boy was better than being a girl; She was transgender. My dad and I were quick to accept and support her while my mother constantly fought and yelled at her. To this day she still yells. And we’re seeking help as much as we can for my sister through therapy and support groups. My sister’s a lot happier than before, but all of her progress gets pushed back by my mother.
Not being able to deal with the stress of life, I took to cutting. I cut off the safeguards of a daisy razor blade and slid it across my wrists. It actually didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. But the next day I was so ashamed of what i had done. I partially covered it with bracelets and hoped no one would question it (which they didn’t much to my relief). I eventually even contemplated a means to an end. SA found out though and she told me not to. She pleaded with me and recently, I decided to quit all of it. Boys aren’t worth it, mothers aren’t worth it, no one is worth that kind of pain. If J would settle for someone like that, then hell, I’m sure there’s a prince for me out there somewhere 🙂 And though my mother still yells, I now have the support of the rest of my family and look towards the days when I will leave this house of unforgiveness and pave my own path in the world. One full of acceptance and kindness towards those who need it most.
I learned that living is one hell of a struggle. But without those hardships, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the good in life as I do now. I wouldn’t be able to understand others like my sister and SA. Wouldn’t be able to interact and connect with others as I can now. Some can’t push through those adversities though, and I’ve learned that that’s why people need to stop with all of the fronts, all of the acts. Stop being selfish and materialistic and start caring about others. We’re all just people. No one is any better than anyone else, and everyone has their own purpose. I am a firm believer in this. I myself am not perfect, but it’s those imperfections that push me forward.
If you’re still here and lasted to the end of that long speech, I applaud you and hope that my story can help you with your own.
Here’s SA’s own website for additional story insight: https://diffidentdaydreamssite.wordpress.com/
Here’s my email as well if you ever wanted to ask questions privately or just need a friend to talk to: email@example.com
Thank you, and I wish you all good luck in your journey.
I’ve been on this site before back in december 2012 when things were at their worst. My name was Gumpy btw. I’m nearly 18 now and things are… a tonne… ‘better’ you could say. I’ve been on medication which has helped. I feel so bad about things getting better though, so i’m not happy about the progress. Now i’m just stuck and confused on what I should do. My main problem is my looks, they are horrific… like half shrek half hunchback of notre dam. I don’t want to live looking like this, I won’t allow it. So my only choices are suicide and surgery.. and the negative about surgery is that I will look fake and I won’t feel naturally pretty. Idk, it might sound ridiculous to a lot but when i mean ugly, I mean ugly. I’m never unhappy these days. i mean obviously I hate everyday not having friends and having to deal with an ugly face, but it’s manageable. I just look at my future a lot… and there’s not much there. So I consider the possibilities and everything- my life will forever be bland :/
I don’t know why I dwell on my perpetual dateless more than my other issues. Maybe it’s because I get reminders of it everywhere. I don’t think im ugly just an unattractive. Its the same distinction between impoverished and broke. I’ve been working out but yesterday i tweaked my back in the gym. When i went to see Deadpool I saw reminders of someone i love(d) that I will never see again. I realize that my first love is my last love because I’m too shy/scared/unattractive to find someone.
I shouldn’t tell myself this but life reminds me of what i am. Idk why i post here still. Maybe because i don’t have a sure method to die. I wish i wasnt born and im old and meaningless and i keep getting reminded of how horrid my life has been my life is and will be. Im too incompetent to continually do anything about it. I hate being a fuckup. I hope i have a heart attack soon. I’ve been rejected abandoned neglected. I have no support system or meaningful relationships i do want to die. I am immobile, agoraphobic, perpetually suicidal. No one knows or understands the world ive lived in for decades. I can’t breathe here. Im too depressed to have incentive for living. I want to die now. I want to set myself on fire.
Why is it that I always ruin everything? It’s like I can’t appreciate any good in my life. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend that I’ve truly felt love, and I managed to completely fuck that up. I always get this feeling when I’m with someone long enough that I’m ‘better’ than them, not that I even like myself anyway. It’s a curse and it ruins everything but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I’m a disgusting person who can’t make and keep friends and the one friend I have, must be a saint for being there for me (not that we regularly see each other anyway).
I’m ugly. My eyes are hooded and are so dark they look black. My nose is big and crooked. My jaw is so small that it gives me a double chin even though I’m skinny and my forehead is extremely big. My ribs are huge and my hips are tiny, making my proportions disgusting looking. I weigh 7 stone, which is little, yet I don’t look skinny at all, so loosing any weight would be bad for my health and would probably make me look disgusting anyway. My ***** is what I hate most. It’s not a neat little pornstar one, it’s disgusting. It has the horrible flaps that just make me even more ugly. How could anyone love me?
I despise myself and I think it’s time I fucking killed myself.
I painted this picture one day when existentialism was strong on my mind. I hadn’t painted it because I was feeling suicidal. I hadn’t painted it because I wanted some attention from my parents. I hadn’t painted it just because it looked cool. I painted it because it spoke to me. I hear a lot of negative opinions from all of my family about suicide. They say those people are cowards. They say those people don’t know how good life is. They say those people are selfish. They say those people are mental. Well I say different. I say suicide is damn ugly and suicide is damn beautiful.
Let me explain.
THE UGLY PART
You’re in pain.
You feel worthless.
You feel ugly.
You feel useless.
You feel like scum.
You feel you need to die.
There is so much ugly to the suicide.
But if you think about it, that ugly part isn’t suicide.
That ugly part is all the stuff that LED to suicide.
And for some ugly reason, it just so happens that you created the ugly yourself.
THE BEAUTIFUL PART
You get to be your own release.
You choose the place.
You choose the day.
You choose the time.
You choose the how.
You decide everything.
And when you’re at that end,
you soar away like a butterfly.
Your release yourself from your own hell.
I really really get the appeal. I really wanted it so many times. To just let it all go. But suicide turned out not to be my release. It isn’t for everyone, just like life sometimes isn’t for everyone. I found my release in living. I found it in just being me. But I really get how suicide give that same feeling for others.
I had hoped my painting would explain that to my family. Instead they grew overly concerned. I hope someday I can find the words, or the painting, that will finally show them what i mean.
I’d like to found an organization of plain wallflower demented freaks that no one can stand to look at too long
I’ll be the president
I’m so jealous, why can’t I have heartbreak, friends, bittersweet relationships? I’m literally alone in this world, I guess I’m too ugly for people to have an interest in me. It’s always been about how I look, my skins too dark, my face isn’t even, I have dishevelled hair, I’m gaining weight. . . Slowly but surely, why was I born so disgusting that I’ll never have anyone, no friends, no love, I’ll never know, I’m just gods cruel joke. I’m the type of person that you see on the bus and you wonder, is that guy uglier than that homeless guy over there? (Lol) if I was an ugly girl it would be easier but instead I’m an ugly guy, the constant stares from everyone sickens me, 16 and failing grade 11, that’s me, an ugly worthless, dark-skinned monster. being have asian half black I have always loathed the black part, I wish it would disappear leaving me light and airy and just wonderful just like my mom, Yeah I guess I am racist to myself (lol) but it’s true, my sister was blessed with a lighter tone, good for her. Being in a cult, I’m constantly bombarded with how I should look, clean-cut white boys with their jelled-hair it just makes me so jealous, I’m obsessive I know but I can’t help it. Being the only ugly one in your family isn’t fun, seeing my sister going to night clubs, having tons of friends, getting hit on 24/7 and then there’s me, an ugly socially ackward 16 yr old guy addicted to anime, which makes me self-loath more because anime mcs are so fucking hot. An then there’s my crazy parents shipping me off between them, and throwing me in homeless shelters, but I guess I’ll save that for another post. Sorry for the rant and sorry if my mentioning about dark-skin offended anyone, it’s just honestly how I feel and I just hope there is at least a couple people on here that can relate to being a complete social outcast, with crazy religious nut parents and being the ugly younger sibling while your sister is fucking model-esque, with tons of relationships and love interests. I fucking want to stab this guy from my school who keeps asking me who he should choose, and it’s like WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ASKING ME FOR LOVE ADVICE, AND WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO ME CANT YOU SEE IM AN UGLY FUCKER? God. I really want to die already. Even ugly people don’t want to be my friend, which is really sad.
Apparently, I am so easily triggered to become depressed about my appearance by seeing pictures of attractive girls.
It’s probably stupid to you, I know, weird
It makes me so upset about myself…..I already hate myself. I don’t need to self harm; there is no positive usage to self harm, but I do it anyway…I feel like I deserve it though…for not being pretty enough, not smart enough, not good enough to live…I’m just a waste of space.
I would kill myself right now, but the fear of dying circles around me, mocking me and laughing at my tragedy.
My whole life has been a living heel since I was born…I’ve been brought down, cursed, abused, and judged my whole life..I hate it so much…..
especially the crying every night….I don’t know where this is going, but I need answers, how to change my life, easiest way to die without worrying, how to be smart, pretty,….I don’t know..maybe something inspiring to me….
Thank you for reading -Losergirl
You said they made fun of your body
Humiliation in your eyes when you told me
Well I’m gonna find them
Don’t you worry
I’ll make sure
They’re really fucking sorry
You said you’re embarrassed of your body
You told me you think you’re really ugly
Well my love I know you don’t see
What I see
Anything that is beautiful
People want to break
And you are beautiful
Anything that is beautiful
People want to break
And you are beautiful
You said you’re ashamed of your body
You’d rather die than show me
But I would love you in any
Form you take
You said that they say you’re disgusting
That they told you you were fat and unworthy
Well my love I hope you trust me
When I say you have a perfect body
Anything that is beautiful
People want to break
And you are beautiful
Anything that is beautiful
People want to break
And you are beautiful
Uh..Hi fellow internet people out there….I’m new here and I’m a big loser……at least that’s what everyone says…
Anyways, I have A LOT of problems, but I try not to show them or let people know I have these problems.
I am unintelligent, ugly, shy, depressed, chubby, anti-social. and terrible at everything….
Now you know a little about me and thank you if you’re reading this
Have a good day or night,
From, LG (Losergirl)
Family & Friends EffectsGeneralI Will SurviveMy Suicide NoteStories of HopeStories of LossSuicidal Survivors
I am a 14 year old teenager, depressed and suicidal. I know this may sound stupid but does anyone know any pills that will make me pass out if I overdose? I am not exactly trying to kill myself, just a way of revealing my pain to my parent without having to actually talk to them, but let’s just say I wouldn’t care if I died overdosing.
I know I will receive lots of “don’t do this” “you don’t deserve life” and “you’re worth it” but I don’t believe any of that. I hate my life and myself so much, I don’t think anything or anyone can change this. So please, spare me the sweet comments about how everything will get better and I should stay strong because I can’t, I am a weak person who cannot handle anything anymore.