Don't Give Up What You Want Most...

Just Called The Suicide Hotline…

and hung up as soon as someone answered.

They answered it like it was my cell phone’s customer service » Sounded like them too.

How do you even talk to them? Do I just sit there and say “Yeah, I’ve spent the last two hours trying to build up the courage to kill myself, which has been a nightly ritual since I was, oh I don’t know, ten?” Seriously. I’m socially awkward enough and can’t even tell my best friends how bad it is, how am I supposed to tell a random stranger at five in the morning who has an accent I can barely understand and answered the phone all peppy like “This is the suicide hotline, how can I help you? :D”

So yeah, I hung up. Then of course I had a bit of a paranoia spaz attack wondering if they could trace my call, and if they could would they arrest me for hanging up the moment the woman answered like prank calling the police or something?

Point is, how am I supposed to get help this way? Counselors cost money, friends have their own issues, parents are just too awkward and insensitive, and the hotline is obviously not going to be an option for me. All I have left is online venting and the hopes a random internet dweller will try to help lift my spirits or join in being depressed with me. And even then I still can get offended and end up feeling worse than before, as evidenced by two posts ago when a random internet dweller did attempt to “motivate” me.

I don’t want to live past age 18. I’m 18 now. Less than half a year left, and I don’t know if I’m going to make it or not. I know it sounds selfish because there are so many people fighting for their lives, or being killed, or living in much worse situations, but why does that mean I need to keep living here? I see almost no beauty in the world, and what little beauty there is is constantly being ruined.  It’s not like I want to feel this way. I want to be happy, but I probably never will be.

Who needs their day made? I will send everyone a message that reblogs this.

(Source: brielle-hime)

Anonymous asked: I dont want you to harm yourself anymore. At all. You need to remember that people actually care about you. Your life was given as a gift, its precious. Never ever harm the most beautiful thing. You know what you need to change in order to have a happy life, deep down. Its just that you lack le motivation, you have laziness of some extent to push yourself to start. You should. Create something out of nothing. Make motivation. Whether it's finding god or finding yourself, willyou find the means?

Two minutes too late hun. I think you’re coming from a good place, but you don’t know me, and therefore can’t tell me what to do. Maybe people care about me, but I don’t see or feel it, and if there are any they’re few. My life may be a gift, but I’d compare it to an unwanted one like socks or and itchy, ugly sweater. You don’t like every gift, I don’t happen to like this one. Also, my body and life are not the most beautiful thing, they’re ugly and gross. No, I don’t know what I need to change deep down. I have ideas but at least half of them just involve more self harm. Also, I don’t have the means or abilities to get to the few non-harmful happy. It’s not all about motivation or laziness. Which, while every thing else I see you’re trying to help, how dare you call me lazy or tell me I lack motivation when you have no idea about my life or what I strive for? I HAVE motivated myself and I got myself to, for the most part, stop purging. Cutting I don’t feel is that harmful so I don’t bother trying to “quit” since it’s not really needed at this point. So don’t you ever try to tell me I’m lazy when you have no clue what I’ve fought through and for. Also, I already have found God, years ago. Just because I’ve found God doesn’t mean I’m automatically cured of my physical defects and mental issues. I’ve also found myself, and I don’t like what I see. So thanks for trying, and I’ll give the benefit of the doubt that you were just trying to help, but you came off offensive, pretentious, and ignorant. Thanks for the sentiment though.

I think I need help

But I have no idea where to get it.

Last night I fell asleep for an hour, only to wake up feeling disgusting, with voices in my head. I imagined snuggling into my wrists while it pools blood, falling asleep on it. I imagined taking my fathers gun and holding it to my head, daring myself to press the trigger.

I can’t even explain it, it’s like the feelings are blocked off. I feel them, but trying to write them down… or speak them? It catches in my throat and my fingers freeze. I’m so tired.

Anonymous asked: dont eat chocolate if youre purging, it will burn your troath more!

I know, I learned that first hand xD

That moment…

When you stop caring. I had one today. My friend was driving me home and I had a delusion of a car coming out of no where and slamming into the passenger side door. I realized I wouldn’t mind, that a big part of me wanted it. That realization made me cry. I have never seen myself living past 18, and I have less than half a year left of being 18. I don’t know if I’ll let myself live that long.

These people will never be mine…

I felt the depression again today. It was that stupid one I always get when there’s a crowd. I feel claustrophobic and alone. It wasn’t my day of course, so it’s not about that, but I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. I wish this family was my own. It’s pretty dysfunctional itself, but I love each person in it. They’re close, they see each other, every time I’m with this family I have adventures and fun times, until I remember I’ll have to leave.

They took me in once, and I felt horribly for still feeling depressed. It felt like Baby Suggs from Beloved, “It’s better here, but I’m not.” But, every time I stayed out late with them, or was included, I felt happy. It was always tainted by the knowledge I’d be leaving soon though, and probably never see this family again. There were also the days I felt left out anyway. I’d lock myself away in that room, or hide by the kitchen sink, or under the bar counter in the basement. I’d remind myself, I don’t belong. I’m just a charity case, and I can never be sure, if these people cared about me, or if I was just a nuisance.

So here I am, in their living room again a year later, I’ve stayed here for a week or so at a time a couple times since I moved out, and everything is how I remember and I’m with all of them again, but I still feel on the outside. I’m not family.

They always said I was, but I wasn’t even invited… my friend who was my original connection, it’s her family, had to ask for me. There I am, sitting with my pathetic little bag of too tight shoes, feeling left out, when the woman just snaps like I’m a pathetic, nobody, child to “get my bag off the table.” But she’s real family to them, so I did.

Which of course I happened to be wearing one of those tops today, the type that’s polyester and soft, and stretches over your wrists into your palms. The kind that feels like if you punch a hole through the wrist of the sleeve for the thumb it could be an arm warmer. The last time I wore arm warmers was those first couple months of cutting.

So I was already triggered over that, I’m horrible in parties ever since I was a little kid, because I get anxiety attacks, I’m feeling lonely, and then I get scolded. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom with my head in the window trying to escape everyone and the food. Which, of course, caused people to ask why I wasn’t hungry, to which I replied I wasn’t feeling well. When everyone started offering me stomach medicine I gave in. I nibbled on a chicken nugget and it was all down hill from there. Two sandwiches of sausage and chicken nuggets later I managed to stop myself. But by then all I wanted to do was puke, especially since now I have gastric reflux issues from my previous issues with “bulimia.” I didn’t though. I wanted to so bad, even before eating, but I didn’t. I would have cut if I had access though. I looked but, one of their daughters used to cut (at least one that was caught) so sharp objects are pretty regulated around here.

But anyways, the party is over now and I’m on the couch joking with the sisters, holding the babies, and talking to their mom. Is it me? Am I the reason I feel disconnected? Is it just that I’m not open to it?

I want a family. I have a small one but… none of them are good people. My father is evil, my mother is weak though she tries at least, my only uncle/aunt/cousin combination I still had in my life moved to Florida, and the other aunt I was getting close to is a pretty bad person too and I haven’t seen her since September.

I just want to be part of something big. Even if there are problems. I want to feel like I’m wanted, that I’m included without even thinking about it. I’m not though. At least, I don’t feel I am. That’s not their fault of course. They took me in, they tried to make me feel welcome and help me, but it doesn’t change that I’m not theirs. You can choose non related family of course, but usually that’s for people who don’t have one like me. They stick together. People who already have a family, that dynamic, you can never be fully included, because there are too many people and factors. Like the woman who snapped at me today, I’m not family to her, I’m nothing to her but someone she heard shared a house with her nieces.

I also had fun today, and I created a game, and laughed. But all it does is give me a taste of something I’ll never actually have.

I decided…

that I was going to write down my experience with my pedophile best friend. I never got hurt by him, but I knew the girl he did hurt, and I orchestrated his arrest. Sometimes I still miss him, I dream about him at least once a week and he’s been in jail for two years. I recently found out he’s getting out in about half a year. I don’t know if he knows what I did to him, or if he’ll still want to be friends, or if I even want to be. Maybe I’ll post the story on here?

My Story

I’m a girl.

Label yourself (prep, goth, drugie, weirdo, etc,)?
Weirdo 

How long have you been self harming?
I did it for fun when I was as young as 7, but consciously? since I was 15.

Where do you cut? (School, home, ect.)?
Anywhere. I’ve never been in a place I felt I would not cut in.

Where do you have to hide (wrists, forearms, upper arms, etc)?
I’ve had to hide my forearm, upperarm,knees, hips, but lately I’ve stuck to my wrist.

Do you have to wear long-sleeves and pants all the time?
I used to, although I wore arm warmers. Stupid choice, completely obvious.

Do you cut on your stomach, or chest?
One or twice.

Are your legs, arms, and other body parts covered in scars?
my arms are

Whats your favorite excuse to use when someone asks about a cut?
I have kittens, they’re bratty.

Have you ever been hospitalized because of your cutting?
No.

Off the top of your head, about how many scars do you have?
No clue, last I checked I still had about 30 from my first month, my hips I havent checked in forever but I must have cut them over a hundred times. My wrist has a permanent discolored section because I keep making the same cuts there for the past year. 

Do you have (diagnosed) depression, and/or bipolar/bpd?
No.

Who knows you cut?
People know I have, and probably three people can infer that I still do. 

Have you ever been caught cutting?
Yes, about two months after I started. It felt like so much longer though. 

Have your parents ever confronted you about your bloody sleeves or towel?
No.

Did you have a good childhood?
No, I was bullied so much I had to change schools twice, my parents were constantly fighting about something and threatening divorce, my dad was an alcoholic who lost his job, and its just gotten worse since then.

Why do you cut?
I like it. I wanted to cut, so I sought it out, and I did it. It helps calm me down, it amuses me when I’m bored, it makes me feel real. I like everything about it except the scars.

Have you ever talked to a therapist or counsellor?
No, don’t have money to.

Do you want to stop cutting?
No. I’ve cut back a lot out of necessity, but I don’t want to stop.

How many times have you tried to committ suicide?
Never. I’ve only considered it, never taken that step though.

What are your views on cutting and other self injury?
It’s my body, if it doesn’t affect anyone else, cost money, or interfere with my health then it’s no one’s business.

Do you like watching movies with self-injury?
Yes, but there aren’t many good ones.

Do you like looking at pictures of self-injury?
No, it makes me feel inadequate or makes me want to compare.

Do you sometimes envy other people(non-self injurers)?
Not for their non-self injury. 

Have you ever taken any pictures of you cuts/scars?
Yes, and videos.

Do you want to die?
Yes, only if this is all there is to life. If there’s real happiness and hope then no. But I can’t find it yet.

Have you ever done a school assignment on cutting, or self-injury?
No.

What do you like to listen to while cutting/depressed/ect?
Music, evanescence, between the trees, jamestown story

Have you ever needed stitches from cutting?
no.

Do you dream about cutting?
Yes.

What do you use to bandage your cuts?
I don’t bandage them, I think I did once with a normal bandaid just to hide how recent it was.