“ They Don’t Love You Like I Do . . . “

⛓️ — Haru / Basil / 001 — Agender/any prns — 18 yrs old — TW: this account is a vent/rant account — 🔪

I do, man. She only go outside on the porch and she actually hates grass. In fact, she is peak incel. What do we call that? Femcel?

But it’s like a need. A need to get worse.

I need to stop taking my meds. I need to listen to the voices. I need to stop eating. I need to stop showering. I need to.

If I continue the way I am, I’ll always be stuck in this horrible limbo state of “severely mentally ill but not enough to warrant any serious treatment.”

But anyways, now that I really think about it, I think I might have a flat affect or a restricted affect? I mean, it’s a weird situation with me. I still laugh and cry, but mainly when I’m masking with other people like family.

Most of the time, unless I’m truly going through it like depression, I don’t express my emotions outwardly (unless it’s fear.) I’ve had people tell me I should smile more or that my voice is monotone

But I try so hard to make it… likable? Normal? I dunno.

Sorry, I forgot how to people. /silly

No literally, I have a flare in psychotic symptoms rn and I’m suffering. It might be a couple more days before I actually get back to talking to anyone. So uhm, if you see this, I’m sorry. Feel free to text. Don’t hate me, thank you. 🙏 trust.

Taking your suicidal partner (after an unsuccessful attempt) into the bathroom and running water for them, forcing them to strip and sit in the bath. They try to cover themselves but every time they do, they get their hands or arms slapped away.

You give them a blade.

“You want to die so fucking badly, do it right now.”

You watch them press the blade against their wrist, hands shaking, breath ragged and heavy. “I can’t do it.”

You snatch the blade and then their forearm, pressing it against their wrist for them and watching as blood drips for the broken skin.

“You wanted to die? Are you really so incompetent that you can’t do it yourself? Do you need me to do it for you?!”

“Sorry…” they apologize, over and over again. Maybe they were never suicidal in the first place. Maybe they just wanted out of this sick relationship. This sick situation.

You pull them into a hug, their body wet and shaking. “Don’t ever try to do something like that again, what don’t you understand by I need you.”

They nod, tears falling from their eyes. “Okay.”

Nobody had positive memories of me currently.

Maybe my parents from when we were younger. But that girl is long gone. She died when her innocence was forcefully taken from her. She was reborn and lives to die.

If I died now, everyone would

Get over it in a span of a year. Nobody would remember me. Nobody would.

I just want to do it and bleed out in the bathroom.

But what if I fail.

What if get scared

I’m not going anywhere.

I can’t go anywhere.

But I don’t want to pass this opportunity either

Fuck

What should I do? God someone tell me what I should do

But the other half of me craves freedom. I don’t want to do this anymore. But no matter how much I scream, cry, and beg, I’m still alone. No matter what I do, I’ll always be alone

The only person who could truly end it is me and I’m too scared.