Y’know…Tiffy was the first person to draw/write on some of my scars.
That’s honestly a moment I will never forget because that meant more to me than almost anything.
I don’t know why I’m crying thinking about this…maybe because I will never see her again…maybe because I don’t think anyone else will ever see my scars and draw or write on them or kiss them like she did…I don’t think anyone will ever see me naked and be attracted to me because of how many scars I have everywhere and the words engraved all over my body.
It almost feels like she’s the only one that will ever appreciate me regardless of all the scars I have and I’m actually shaking thinking about that…because that is terrifying to me…
Thinking that most people would reject me because of all the scars and current cuts I have all over me…Thinking that someone will love /until/ they see me naked or see my arms…
I feel so terrible because I just keep adding more. And I’ve been cutting since I posted that text post about my father…
I just keep adding more and more and every time I stop and realize/look at what I’m doing to myself…I end up bawling my eyes out because I feel like no one in the whole goddamn world will ever love me with the scars I can never get rid of and keep adding to…
Then again, it’s not like anyone would want me in the first place, either. With my personality, it’s not a wonder I’m alone.
I…I’m actually somewhat proud of myself…
[Trigger warning for those who are sensitive…please don’t click the read more if you’re triggered easily by pictures of cuts or blood or talking about cutting…Please.]
But I’m about to log into it and upload some damage… … .
Well…this is gonna be a really offensive opinion because my opinion is not in the majority and the audience for the subject matter are people who are generally very easily offended and tend to take things personally and get defensive.
And that’s not what I’m intending.
I just really need to rant about something and this has been on my mind since I saw a few posts on here about it with some comments that disturbed me.
But since the subject matter is touchy and this is gonna be REALLY long, I’ll put a read more.
I feel depressed as fuck.
Borderline suicidal. And I haven’t been able to talk to Tiffy much today.
I want to kill myself.
But I’ll probably just cut instead.
I’m running out of places though.
Oh fucking well.
I always go too damn deep coz I can’t fucking feel it.
I deserve it.
Probably should be even deeper for all I know.
I’m depressed as fuck and trying pretty hard not to cut myself.
I don’t want to. I don’t want to hurt myself.
I love Tiffy too much to hurt myself anymore… .but I’m so impulsive I don’t know if I can hold on much longer.
I want to take more pain killers….but I need to save them………..but I’m on the verge of caving………………….and I don’t know if it would kill me or not if I took more because I have a fucking LOT in my system right now…close to a lethal dose…
But I feel like I need it… like I need to take more and then I’ll feel okay. Like I need to take more to feel okay. Fuck, I just want to cry… . . I feel terrible emotionally …
Talk to me… . ?
I’m trying to distract myself… .
Fuckin’ wanna kill myself.
And cut my body to shreds.
What the fuck.
These drugs better kick in super fast or I might just do something self destructive to tide me over so I don’t do anything stupid.
Or maybe I’ll just snort a bunch of coke.
I don’t I don’t I don’t.
I feel like there’s so much wrong right now and all I want to do is hurt myself.
I don’t want to talk about it…I don’t want to try so hard to feel okay anymore.
I don’t want to be analyzed and told what I should or shouldn’t do.
Everything feels so insignificant right now and the last thing I want to do is be locked in a room with my psychologist and feel pressured to talk.
I don’t feel okay right now and there’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t want to talk and there’s nothing wrong with that either. But at the same time, I don’t know what I want and if we talk about anything else, I won’t be able to pay attention to a word she’s saying.
I feel really alone. Alone and forgotten and insignificant.
I just don’t want to see her today.
I just want to stay locked in my room. I don’t want to cut myself, but I feel like it would really help right now. And that’s all I want to do. Cut myself and do lots of drugs to numb the pain.
The second I get home from therapy I’m downing as many drugs as I can. I don’t care what happens or how my body reacts or if my heart stops. I need it. I can’t keep fighting this feeling. I just can’t. I’ll chew an aspirin after I down all the drugs to make sure nothing too bad happens with my heart.
I don’t know what else to do. If I go into cardiac arrest, I’ll just call 911 and it will be alright. It will, won’t it? That’s their job. To save people’s lives. So they can save mine, too. Right? I trust it will be alright…I can’t keep fighting this feeling anymore. I’m going through so much pain and angst and turmoil because of it. I just can’t keep doing this. I need the release. I need the trip. I need the escape. I need it. It’s not a want anymore. I’ll kill myself without it. I need it more than anything right now. Drugs are the only thing in this world that will undoubtedly make me feel alright and safe and loved and happy. I need them now more than ever. I just want to stop hurting…
I’m glad people who consider themselves my friends hate me so damn much.
Especially my roommates.
I’m glad they hate me the most.
This is how I feel every day of my fucking life. And I can’t stand it. And I want it to fucking end…yet there’s no one here to fix it. And even when there are people here to fix it, it doesn’t feel like it’s fixed. No matter how much anyone says I’m not alone…I’m alone. I’m fucking alone.
Everyone’s changing. Everyone’s leaving. And everything’s falling to pieces.
And now I’m the one left alone while everyone else goes off with someone else.
Cheers to waking up to an empty apartment.