January 28th, 2014
1:22pm
It’s not easy being me, well… maybe it is—maybe I’m just weak, maybe I’m just stupid. I mean, compared to others, I don’t even have bad problems.
So what, I feel invisible and I get bullied and I am emotionally abused and I feel that no one cares about me. I’m just being selfish. At least I have a roof over my head and food to eat when I need to or want to. (Ugh. I hate eating.)
I just live this perfect fucking life and I’m still gloomy and sad and depressed.
I have music that saves me from killing myself. That, and God. I’m thankful for those. Of mice and men is my favorite band. They’ve helped me through so much. They’re new album comes out tomorrow, too.
Anyways.
I’m being kicked out of group therapy today. They think I’m better. I remember my first goal for this place: to be happy; not to cut anymore. But I’m still sad, and I still cut. Yeah, sure, I never mentioned that I relapse almost every night. Yeah, sure, I never mentioned that I hate myself and everything that has to do with me.
Maybe that’s where I went wrong. I fooled my therapists into believing I was fine and I was ok and that I had moved on from this part of my life. But I haven’t. I’ve fooled everyone but myself.
Maybe I should kill myself to prove to the others that I’m not ok. I don’t want to—it’s against my religion. I’ll go to Hell. But… sometimes I think, maybe I deserve to go to hell.
Fuck it.
Maybe I’m just too broken to be fixed.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Me,
Non-Fictionbasically the diary of someone nobody cares about wanna read it? sure don't wanna read it? don't blame you
