It kills me to know that you’re in such pain. I wish I could take it away, if only for a few moments so that you might be at peace. My heart literally aches for you. I’m a fixer, but I can’t fix this.

“It’s not the end, but it feels like it is. I feel alive & it hurts for a change. It’s discontent - like a slap in the face. We’re never going back to okay. Never going back to easy - going back to the way it was. We’re never going back to okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.”

even i can’t believe the lengths i’ll go to destroy myself 

Don’t feel like you have to read this. I’m just ranting.

I feel incredibly sick.

For the past two months, I’ve been absolutely miserable. Leaving things at ‘home’ isn’t as easy as some people might tell you it is. ‘Home’ (I think) is part of the reason why I do feel so sick. And before even that, I’ve never felt so down. Since April I have been on a roller coaster of highs and lows – scaring myself in terms of how my depression has progressed. People expect you to pull it together – for their benefit or your own, I’m not so sure. It’s hard when you feel constantly knocked down AGAIN and AGAIN and people don’t want to hear about anything you have to say unless it’s a lie with a smile tacked on your face. I’m not saying my life is harder than anyone else’s. But I can’t handle it as well as everyone else. When an upcoming exam sends me triggers of harming myself beyond recognition, it doesn’t do much for my self-confidence. I’m not pretty. I’m not a charming conversationalist. I really have nothing to offer anyone. So I’ve basically found myself empty-handed when my grades are truly reflecting my value as a person. I just want to do one thing right – I go crazy thinking I’ve fucked up as badly as some of my family members have.

It’s a struggle to get through the day. I worry about things that a 20 year old shouldn’t have to stress over. Is my autistic 13 year old brother going to end up trying to kill himself again? Does my father actually love me and does he feel any remorse for not being there? Am I just a younger version of my very bipolar and depressed mother? How am I supposed to pay for school? Shampoo? When does the house get taken away? Do I succumb? Should I worry about saving myself from myself? Am I the one who is responsible for my pain and the only one who can fully end it? Cue the pity party, right?

It’s things like… “It’s just a math exam.” No. It’s proving to myself that I haven’t wasted this semester. That I’m just as good as the average student here. It’s making my parents proud – or at least imagining that they’d be able to say it. It’s proving my worth as a human being. How do you cope? What happens when you’re not good enough? For your own father? A boy? Yourself? Self-improvement is vastly underrated. My arms can attest to that. Numerous tally marks and lines I’ve never had the concentration to count can attest to that. Hatred of your body, voice, thoughts, history… I feel so fucking helpless!!!!!!!!!!! Something has to give and right now it looks as if it’s going to be me. If I can’t sew it back together, I’m going to fall apart. I’m going to give up. That’s strangely comforting in a way.

This isn’t really a math exam. Not really. I’m just not sure how to talk about it. I don’t really know what it is. & one of the worst feelings in the world is knowing that you’re burdening someone else with it. I can /feel/ myself discouraging others. The only thing I want to do is feel normal. I’m not sure what that exactly entails, but I know it isn’t this… I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. This is hell. This is hypersensitivity and anger and jealousy and misery and hopelessness… I look up to see myself burying the micro version of me alive. Choked up and suffocating and only wanting peace.

I really wish you never fully understand this. These shoes are not meant to be filled.  

When no one else is here for me, you are TPM. & I haven’t slept in what feels like years.

I’m glad you’ve found her.