inhale exhale

Fuck everyone who took advantage of me when I was naive and attached you’re all sick and disgusting

I feel guilty for everything. I feel guilty for having traumas. I feel guilty for being traumatized. I feel guilty for feeling the feelings I feel. I feel guilty for expressing those feelings. I feel guilty for showing emotions. Everything feels like it's my fault. And everytime someone says something remotely close to it being my fault, It feels like I failed the whole world, because I am not doing it right. Even if they are pointing out things I could do in a different way to improve myself, it feels like I am worth nothing but death. I feel guilty for my existence.

Oh the pain of seeing everyone around you move forward and you being stuck right where and when they broke you. The overwhelming need to die when you realize your life will amount to nothing because your mental health will always get in the way. You’ll never catch up. They say it’s okay as long as you get there. But that’s the thing, by the time you get there, others will have moved way forward. You’ll ALWAYS be behind. I wish people would understand it’s not okay not okay not okay and I don’t want this life anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t change it no matter what I do. LET. ME. GO.

I feel like I was set up from the moment I was born. I was made to fail. I have nothing. Nothing good about me. No brains and not good looking and incredibly bad luck. I hate myself. Everything about me is worthless. I am worthless.

The reality is, the reason I survived my attempt is not because I have a second chance at life, it’s because the universe wanted to make sure I don’t get an out. She wanted to make me stay and suffer.

I'm tired of being such a fucking disappointment

Nobody ever talks about how selfless it is to choose, over and over again, to not commit suicide. Nobody ever acknowledges the tremendous sacrifice suicidal people make every time we choose not to kill ourselves. When a person who is suffering so horribly that death seems like their best option decides not to take their one way out, and to instead remain in hell, day after day, month after month, year after year, because they don’t want to hurt the people they love, they are doing something extraordinary. Not killing yourself when it’s all you want to do is the purest act of love I can imagine. Dying for someone is easy - you don’t have to deal with any of the consequences, you have your moment of nobility and then it’s all over. But living for someone, when the simple fact of consciousness is literal torture for you? Every single suicidal person who ever made a choice to not kill themselves in a moment of misery is a goddamn hero in my eyes. Wanting to die and still surviving is an act of titanic courage and self-sacrifice. We deserve more credit for it.

There comes a point where it doesn't matter anymore. The scars. The destruction. The episodes. Because you can't go back. You're past the point of going back. I can never go back. Revel in the freedom that brings. Embrace the destruction. It'll never get better. And I can't wait to bleed again.