depressing thoughts

i

-my own version of a diary
-fucked up shit
-cope mechanism
___________________________
4/12/17

Two days before my birthday. I woke up feeling so fucking shitty. I felt terrible. Like literal heavy weight on my chest was there. My head has been hurting a bit throughout the day. I have a small cut on my wrist [self inflicted of course]. Scissors don't really cut through the skin, as known from experience, it merely just 'scratches' the surface, it doesn't cut through the flesh.
The 'pain' feels like nothing anymore. Like I've become numb to that way of coping. I should've listened when I heard self harming was addicting. But I'm only human. How could I think I wouldn't control myself? Sucks to figure out another thing I can't control. Aside from that, I've began to think about purchasing razors. The actual blades people use. At first, the thought of them scared me but now I can't think of anything else to get rid of my problems.
It's silly. To think physical pain can help work as an "anesthetic" to my emotional pain.
Fuck my headache is killing me. My eyes feel heavy. I just want to go to sleep.
I just want to feel peace.
I just want to be happy.
I just want to not be
Alive.
-entry time: 6:50 pm

I fucking hate my mind. I know I'm not okay. I know am not feeling well. But yet i somehow make a fake smile, fake laugh, fake happiness. It's automatic. To make everyone around me convinced I am just the normal Jess who likes to be super loud and cheerful. It fucking kills me. when I act how I feel, close myself off, turn quiet, show
my true expression of discontent. They begin to worry a bit. If they see it then why can't they see it when I'm hiding it. The obvious answer is because I'm hiding it. But what the fuck else am I
Supposed to do? Be sad and tired all the time around them? I can't. For the fear of rejection being too great. I have developed a fake persona around them. It's unfortunate. And no matter how hard I try to voice out my feelings. My toxic feelings. I simply can't. It feels as if my own darkness clamps its hands around my throat, telling me sweet lies on how I shouldn't say anything. On how it's my issue, not theirs. Just like it is now. My head is throbbing. I feel like if I went to reach for the Advil at this moment it would all end up in my hand. And then in my stomach. This is difficult.
I guess others have ways to cope with their feelings. But I seem to only find mine by putting myself down. How wonderful?
-entry time: 8:30

Update:
My headache went away after I scratched my wrists with my scissors. Ironic...