Queen of Disaster

i hate that i got diagnosed with a slew of severe mental illnesses at 21 and didnt receive “proper” help until i was 25. i hate that this was after multiple suicide attempts. at my lowest weight that literally no one noticed. sh every day. i hate that the “proper” help i received ended up meaning nothing after 3 years and just adding to the pile of trauma. i hate that everything got so much worse and i didnt die in november which i shouldve. no one takes me seriously. its just for attention. never mind the months i put into planning my attempts. im lucky ig. or incredibly unintelligent. my psychiatrist balks at the mgs of pills i take and is surprised im alive. its sick and twisted. im expected to push on and go to vet school well knowing itll end up with an iv of pento. i’ll probably survive that too. i hate that its been over a decade of me on this website churning out the same textposts with the same themes. she said i never tried. i tried and gave all i had. its 100% effort when i am giving all the effort i have. you cant put parameters on mental health help and brush me off when i am literally screaming at you i am going to kill myself and then yell at me when i overdose. i thought i would be over this by now but guess not. 

i tried to kill myself again in november. is this the 9th time? by all accounts i should be dead 3 times over. no one knows how im still here. i got fired in a cruel way by my therapist. my family ignores me. ive quit my job. i have no plans, no future. 10 years on, 15 years on, nearly 28 years on, its the same. crying and typing the same posts on tumblr. maybe if i slit my wrists deep enough that will work. my body cant defy that.