I should be so happy.
I really should be.
Tomorrow is the last day of exams for me, all I have to do after my exam is type up a two-page response to a question and send it off. And I’m done. Then it’s summer, and I can focus on work and friends and saving up for Harlow.
And I’m so excited about Harlow, I really am, when I talk about it and plan things I’m truly happy for that time. But every other time of day is hard. I just want to sleep and wake up away from here.
I’m so depressed all the time, and it’s honestly making me more upset. When I went through this depression years ago, I had a fucking reason. I was bullied and assaulted and hurt and beaten down and being tested all the time for cancer, I had a fucking reason to want to die. What’s my reason now? I don’t want to be home? That’s not a reason, that’s every person who doesn’t get along with their parents. I honestly don’t have a reason anymore yet I’m depressed, and not having a reason makes me more upset because I don’t understand why I’m not happy.
I should be so so so happy. And I’m so far from happy.
My friends know I’m struggling at home, sure, but they don’t know that I sit in my room and contemplate if I’ll leave it that day. They don’t know that I have to scream into a pillow and cry until I’m so tired that I have to sleep so I restrain from cutting myself, because if I cut they’ll notice and I can’t have them noticing, or they’d stop me and once I start I don’t know if I can stop. They don’t know that I have pain killers just sitting on my desk begging me to down them liked I did back in high school. I tired to OD on many occasions and though never successful, that was because I didn’t know what exactly to take. But I do know now. I know exactly what combinations I could mix that would knock me out or give me a high or potentially kill me. And I have to again restrain myself because I don’t actually want to die. I just….
I want it to all stop. I want the stress to stop. I want the anger to stop. I want the pain to stop. I want the past to stop being a memory.
I can’t remember half my childhood, I honestly don’t know why; maybe I’m blocking things out for a reason or maybe I did smoke way too much weed in middle school to be able to recall anything but I wish I didn’t remember my teenage years. I wish everything before I was 17 suddenly faded away like my childhood and I only remembered the dumb things like a book I read or one rainy day when I sat at home and counted the seconds between thunder and lightening.
I want to forget every fucking shitty thing I’ve been through. And you know, I don’t ever want to compare myself to others shitty lives because you don’t know what someone has been through but it’s safe to say that I’ve been through the damn ringer. I’ve been through so much fucking shit that I didn’t deserve, and I’m so sick of remembering any of it. I don’t want to kill myself and give people the satisfaction that I did what half of them want me to, but I don’t know if I want to grow old anymore. That’s why I honestly feel so fucked up. I am so fucking fucked up,
You know how you day dream about what you’d do with 1 million dollars or what life would be like with your current crush? I day dream of getting diagnosed with cancer finally, or being hit by a car and surviving, or being raped again and put into the hospital. I day-dream of the most morbid fucking shit, and I don’t know why.
I guess I half know why. I’d like to see who actually gives a shit about my well being in life. I’d like to see who would come visit me in a hospital if they knew I’d been hit by a car or brutally assaulted or diagnosed with a serious disease and needed life saving surgery or something.
I’d like to see who really cares. And I’d like to see what life would be like when they all get a fright that I might have actually died. Maybe the pain would stop for a bit. Maybe I’d actually feel loved other then this empty pit of nothing. I feel nothing but pain and sadness and wanting. I want so bad to actually feel like people care about me, and I honestly never do anymore.
I know my friends love me, and I know my family loves me, but I just don’t feel it anymore. I don’t feel like I’m actually truly cared for. Like, if I died tomorrow, yeah they’d be sad but not devastated, kind of the sad you feel when a character you like in a movie dies. It saddens you, and maybe you cried when it happened, but oh well, they’re gone and it’s oh well. That’s how I feel everyone would feel. But the thing is, is that I know differently. That’s what’s so fucked up. I know that’s what wouldn’t happen, I know people would be very fucking upset if I died, but I don’t feel it. I feel like I’m that friend that you have around because you have no one else at the time, but you could drop me at any second and not care. I’m that family member that no one really likes but they tolerate around the holidays because it’s family.
I just want to stop being so fucked up.