𝙼𝚢 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 ٭ 𝚃𝚊𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 ٭

⚠Please read⚠

Disclaimer: ⚠ The things I'm about to talk about may be uncomfortable to some people but it's the harsh reality that's happening to me and I just wanted to get it all out of me.

Hey. I know I’ve been silent for a while, and I’m sorry for not updating, but I’m drowning. Every day feels like I’m suffocating under the weight of my own fear and exhaustion. I have social anxiety that’s so bad, I can barely breathe thinking about school. Last Friday, I faked throwing up just to avoid stepping into that building. The thought of facing everyone, of making one wrong move and humiliating myself, claws at my chest like something is trying to rip me apart from the inside. I feel like I’m on display, like everyone’s eyes are dissecting me, judging every breath, every word I speak. I can’t even escape my own head because it’s full of their whispers, their mocking laughter. I feel like a freak. Every. Single. Day.

I don’t have friends — not real ones, anyway. Most days, I’m trapped in my room like a prisoner, listening to music on repeat, scrolling mindlessly on my phone just to numb myself. It’s pathetic. And the people I thought were my friends? They talk about me behind my back, stabbing me over and over, reminding me that I’m nothing. I feel disgusting, fat, and ugly. Sometimes, I hate being a woman. It’s like a curse — I’m expected to carry the weight of everyone’s expectations, do all the chores while my brother just sits there, doing nothing. Why do I have to shoulder everything? Why do I have to be the one drowning?

There have been nights when I couldn’t take it anymore. Nights when the pain became too much, and I picked up something sharp, wanting to hurt myself, wanting to feel anything besides this crushing numbness. I know it wouldn’t solve anything. I know it would just bring more pain. But in those moments, I don’t care. I just want an escape, any escape.

And then there’s my father. I blame him for everything — for this broken life, for the way I’ve become. If he had cared, if he had tried, maybe I wouldn’t be this wreck. But he’s absent, indifferent, and because of him, I’m trapped in this endless cycle of pain. I’m forced to silently rot in this misery, day after day, as he just pretends everything’s fine. How much longer can I keep pretending I’m okay? Sometimes I think about ending it all, but deep down, I know it would only cause more pain. But honestly, even that thought doesn’t scare me as much anymore.

At night, I lie awake, my face soaked with tears, wishing I could rip myself out of this life and be someone else. Someone better. Someone who isn’t trapped in this body that feels like a prison. People love to say that our traumas shape us, that we shouldn’t be ashamed of who we were because those experiences made us who we are today. But the truth is, I despise who I am today. I feel like a lazy, hideous shell of a person, and I can’t even bring myself to live properly. I'm not living — I'm existing in this slow, painful decay, barely holding on.

I need you to understand something: I’m not okay. I’m screaming inside, and no one seems to hear. Writing all of this is my only release, but even that comes with fear. What if no one cares? What if none of this means anything? Maybe you’ll read this and forget about me the next day. Maybe it won’t matter at all. But I can’t keep pretending I’m fine.

For now, I’ll remain silent. I’ll retreat into the darkness and try to find whatever strength I can to survive another day. Thank you to those who have supported me. It means more than you can know. I love you all, even if I’m too broken to show it. I'll try my best to update this book but I'm begging you to understand I'm not okay. I'll try to upload when I get a grip and feel like I'm worth it again. It may take some time but it's the only way.

Thank you for reading this. Hopefully you're having a better day than mine.