I wish people could understand that

I wish people could understand that I’m trying. I wish they knew how hard I was trying. The fact that I even get out of bed on any given day is practically a **** miracle. Laying in bed for days on end doing nothing, just sitting there like a lump between the fuzzy sheets seems like heaven to me. I can pretend I never have to do anything again. I’m scared. I’m scared and I’m suicidal. Terrified, actually. I have been depressed for years. More unstable really. I am ok, but sometimes for no reason I start to think I need to kill myself. I spiral downwards until before I know it I’ve cut my leg up so bad there isn’t more than a centimetre that isn’t thin shallow cuts. And then I pour running alcohol all over it and rub it in with a sheet of gauze. The stinging would nearly be enough to make me pass out. I would wait 20 min for it to dry and then rub polysporin on it. My entire leg would be hot to the touch for the next few days and very tender and sore to the touch. Of course I would jab my leg throughout the day. Sometimes I would buy a bunch of junk food and eat them all before the ‘ritual’ so I could punish myself with the cutting pain and the nausea. I did this instead of killing myself to protect my friends and family. I can let myself suffer and keep them happy most of the time but sometimes I am a zombie. I will not even look at anyone I Practically revert back to my younger days when I would cry if anyone so much as talked to me. I would sit there sometimes doing my work sometimes just staring at the wall for 8 hours straight not saying a word. The worst days are they days where I’m ok and then I come home and lose my shit and cry and write about how horrible I am and how I should just die. But right now I feel like I really should just die. Who cares about my future and my friends and family. They’ll move on. They’ll be ok without me. They will be glad because I’m the ugly fat girl who smells like sweat, fish and halitosis right? I am a lazy irresponsible jerk who doesn’t deserve any of the opportunities and breaks and good people in my life. As much as I fool them with my comedy and nonchalant attitude I can’t bring myself to believe they care about me at all. I believe that they make fun of me in group chats that I’m not included in and talk about how annoying and disgusting I am. It makes me so mad. I just wish it could all be over. I’ve got this anxiety rolling around through me like pop rocks. And this shame. So much shame. I have never done anything to warrant that much shame. But the thoughts I think…sexually perverted and horrible, despicable thoughts that I am too afraid and ashamed to even mention are bad enough that no therapist would ever want me as a patient. I am afraid I will become the kind of person that everyone hates. The kind that people think it’s ok to torture and test dangerous chemicals on. All because of these **** thoughts. I’m paranoid that people already know. That the government is tracking my browsing and they know what I am…and they’re watching my browsing to make sure I don’t hurt anyone. That people can hear my thoughts or read them on my face when I start thinking about it in public by accident, and then no matter how hard I try my brain bombards me with horrible vile disgusting images and I start to feel uncomfortably aroused and disgusted. And after that horrible experience my brain shows me images of me kissing and having sex with everyone in the room, and I can’t stop seeing it flashing behind my eyes even though it disgusts me and sometimes I see myself killing them. I need help. I need a therapist. But no therapist would want me because of my disgusting sexual desires. I deserve all of this pain and all of my chronic back and joint pain, and my stomach issues and everything. I hate myself. I’m an ungrateful white teenaged girl who has a home and clothing and food and a future but I am selfish enough to wish I were dead. I hate myself so much. I am a burden to the world. I should kill myself but I’m not going to because the only thing I deserve more than death is more suffering.

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tortured 5601 Miscellaneous January 10, 2022 at 9:42 pm 0 0