i hate that my tumblr feels so dead maybe i should start posting everyday

dirt nap time again. i’m tired.

been diagnosed with bpd for around 2 years now and my mom still can’t tell me a single thing about the disorder. it’s a part of who i am and doesn’t care to learn outside of looking for doctors.

tumblr is about to become my little hiding hole again

i’m still going to kill myself. nothing has changed.

my mom always brought up me needing math tutoring, brought the tutors to the house to explain the plan and pricing, then told me she couldn’t afford it. this happened multiple times. the math you learn in middle school is foundational and i barely processed any of it because i was being severely abused. she also told me i couldn’t get C’s, A’s & B’s only. she’d scream at me for not understanding but i genuinely think i have math dyscalculia. i can’t do mental math because i can’t see numbers in my head. i suck at telling time on regular clocks, i don’t remember ever learning how to but obviously it was taught. i have no recollection of how math formulas work. i remember what it looks like in writing, but not how to actually solve the equations. on test and quizzes my brain would flip the order of the numbers or reverse signs. i’d look back like this is a simple mistake, but i see numbers and my brain can’t compute it. i’ve never been good at math or science and i love science. i love quantum mechanics. i’ve just always been made to feel stupid. i remember teachers signaling me out or criticizing me during individual meetings which i RARELY did because i was already being made to feel stupid at home. i didn’t even know math dyscalculia existed until my junior/senior year of high school. even now, my mother makes fun of me not being able to add or subtract numbers in my head. it’s not like i’m doing it on purpose. I CANT SEE THE FUCKING NUMBERS. i remember being able to see vivid imagery in my head, but then every image became one of me being killed, raped, tortured, kidnapped, etc. it’s a very weird feeling as a child to have your imagination reduced to you always being in pain. there’s been a constant thought in my head, it’s there before any thing else. “she was screaming”. that phrase has rang in my head since i was a little kid. “she was screaming”. i never connected it to myself because i never actually audibly cried until junior/senior year. i taught myself how to cry silently because i knew if anyone heard they wouldn’t care. i’ll never forget my mom screaming at me as i sat on my bed because she’d never seen me have a panic attack (therefore i was faking it). of course her screaming induced a panic attack, and ill never forget her looking at me with disgust and walking away. i stopped getting panic attacks (they became anxiety attacks) in high school, not because i wasn’t anxious but because my body didn’t even feel safe to panic in front of others. i’m very lucky to have had some of middle school friends go to the same high school as me. they looked up my symptoms and told me i was having panic attack. they helped me name something my child body couldn’t understand. i’m so rambling here, but i also remember getting panic attacks in middle school and having my teachers look at me as if i were an oddity. i remember seeing my “crush” at the time and running into the next homeroom my best friend was in and sobbing into her arms. i wish i remembered the teachers name, but she was the only person i remember who looked at me and frowned with sadness. i thought someone showing interest in me meant i was going to get in trouble. like people shouldn’t be interested in me or find me likable at all because everyone in my home life treated me with such hatred. i genuinely believed and still kind of do believe that i was meant to be hated and treated with disgust. i used to hug my older cousin super tight because i knew she didn’t like me but i still wanted her to know i loved her. me loving people feels wrong and being loved feels even more taboo. as a child i told myself that it was okay if my family didn’t love me because i loved them. it was normal and right for me not to be loved. this is why i had such a hard time calling my friends, my “best” friends. they were mine but i knew they weren’t “mine”. i never got upset with my friends for being social butterflies because that meant more people got to love them. i fed off them being loved because i loved them.

i really wish i had died with my dog

i’ll go out at night when everyone’s asleep