I better take my anxiety medication and go to bed.
I’m not playing the victim. I used to get “pro-active” and try to plan activities, get in touch with others… I admit it’s more difficult for some time, but I’ve always been here for my “friends”, in good or bad times. And now, what ? I’ve never needed more support or love in my whole life than today, and all my “friends” just don’t give a single fuck. Well, I’m aware that I’m not a really interesting girl, but at least, I thought I had true friends.
So, I’m gonna disapear and lose more weight, keep taking too much pills for anxiety and sleep, keep cutting or burning maybe.
I don’t give a damn about myself too.
Everybody tries to be kind with me, to please me, and I’m just like “get the fuck out I don’t wanna talk.” or “I don’t want your money, keep it for you, I don’t need anything.” or “No I don’t want a hug, don’t touch me, I’m not a child.” My mom often asks me if I’m fine, and I always tell her yes, but 10 minutes later I hide myself to cry. Or cut myself. Or binge.
The hate and sadness are literally eating me. I don’t know why I’m like this. I hurt my family, I ignore my friends, and that fucking voice inside my silly mind insults me all the time, says I should be dead, I’m a ugly pig, I’m useless, worthless, and I deserve nothing except unhappiness.
And the worst part is, when I apologize, they forgive me. Seriously, are they retarded ? I hate myself even more when they say ”it’s OK, everybody can be in a bad mood.”
No. No. NO.
I’m not in a bad mood, I feel depressed and sad. I’m not in a bad mood, I’m anxious about everything. I’m not in a bad mood, I have an eating disorder. I binge and I can’t even purge. I will never be underweight again. I’m not in a bad mood, I’m just a stupid hoe who don’t enjoy life, when people are dying in Syria. Great, I’m awesome.
So, don’t be kind with me, because I don’t fucking deserve it.
I wonder how it feels to live without constant guilt.
I wonder how it feels to be free from yourself.
I wonder how it feels to not be me.
No matter how many friends I have. No matter how much my family loves me. No matter what people say. I will be alone with this other monstruous part of myself for the rest of my life.
I just want to give up on everything.
When I was a child, I almost died twice. The first time because of a neonatal sepsis, the second time because of a liver tumor, when I was 4.
I wish I had died. I am just a waste of space and time.