23:40
I’ve been fine for so long.
I’ve felt happier for such a long period now that feeling this way again had broken me.
It’s broken me down into small tiny pieces and I don’t know why.
I don’t know how to explain to anyone how all day I’ve been laughing and yet now I’m crying my eyes out because I want to end my life again. I don’t know where it comes from anymore - it used to have a source; I could feel it before it came, but now it’s a jack in the box, ready to pounce.
I smile the next day, carry on like normal. I know people like me, and I know there are so many people I could turn to but I just can’t. I feel like a stupid child, running up to their parents and telling them they just had tea with their invisible friend because it’s not real, right? You can’t see it, so I must be fine. I laugh and joke about how I feel. I write about how I feel, but never to the full extent.
Nobody, not even my best friend, knows how badly I can feel at my worst. There was one time when it got bad, and they helped me so much. But I’ve been getting worse and I’ve been reluctant to tell them (and I guess me writing this kind of defeats the purpose of me not telling you). Lately I’ve been contanstly trying to find ways I can hurt myself without any visible marks. I want the pain without the memories and that makes me even worse in a way, because nobody would know if they looked. Nobody can see the hair I pull out or the scratches on my stomach or the bruises on my toes from kicking walls.I want this out of my system. It’s so hard to control now and I’m zoning out more than ever. A couple of people have noticed but they laugh it off, as do I.
I want to say sorry. For being a pain. For being loud, and being sad, and being everything that is so stupid about me and I’m sorry. I want to change, I really do but I can’t find a way to change. I try and just end up crying again at midnight over the fact I can’t do anything about it. I want to change so I can be happy and love my friends and get good grades and find a partner and have a good life without this thing on my back. But I can’t, because I’ve tried.
And now it’s late and I’m breaking down about the fact that I want to end my life again. It repeats, you see, much like this. It’s an endless cycle and I want it to end.
I’ve felt happier for such a long period now that feeling this way again had broken me.
It’s broken me down into small tiny pieces and I don’t know why.
I don’t know how to explain to anyone how all day I’ve been laughing and yet now I’m crying my eyes out because I want to end my life again. I don’t know where it comes from anymore - it used to have a source; I could feel it before it came, but now it’s a jack in the box, ready to pounce.
I smile the next day, carry on like normal. I know people like me, and I know there are so many people I could turn to but I just can’t. I feel like a stupid child, running up to their parents and telling them they just had tea with their invisible friend because it’s not real, right? You can’t see it, so I must be fine. I laugh and joke about how I feel. I write about how I feel, but never to the full extent.
Nobody, not even my best friend, knows how badly I can feel at my worst. There was one time when it got bad, and they helped me so much. But I’ve been getting worse and I’ve been reluctant to tell them (and I guess me writing this kind of defeats the purpose of me not telling you). Lately I’ve been contanstly trying to find ways I can hurt myself without any visible marks. I want the pain without the memories and that makes me even worse in a way, because nobody would know if they looked. Nobody can see the hair I pull out or the scratches on my stomach or the bruises on my toes from kicking walls.I want this out of my system. It’s so hard to control now and I’m zoning out more than ever. A couple of people have noticed but they laugh it off, as do I.
I want to say sorry. For being a pain. For being loud, and being sad, and being everything that is so stupid about me and I’m sorry. I want to change, I really do but I can’t find a way to change. I try and just end up crying again at midnight over the fact I can’t do anything about it. I want to change so I can be happy and love my friends and get good grades and find a partner and have a good life without this thing on my back. But I can’t, because I’ve tried.
And now it’s late and I’m breaking down about the fact that I want to end my life again. It repeats, you see, much like this. It’s an endless cycle and I want it to end.