Somesuch and Other Nonsenical Ramblings

Friends don't murder friends

This year I fell in love with a girl.

I really loved her. Her short, wavy hair, her smile,  her glasses; I loved how she always knew when I was sad and gave the best hugs. I was also worried. She had an eating disorder that she never told me about but I figured out. She was depressed. She had anxiety and struggled with her body image. I encouraged her to eat everyday.
I went on a trip and came back to school after 3 weeks. That was when I started to notice how she blocked me out. We didn't talk as much and I was always an afterthought.

My friend was worried and talked to her about our relationship. The friend told me that A said that she felt there wasnt much love there anymore. "We're just friends that hold hands at this point." That's what she had said. We are still friends, but every time I look at her all I can really think about is how pretty and kind she is and how much I still love her. We never really broke up, but we just drifted away and silently agreed that it was over. And just like that, with a simple phrase, thunder clouds of doubt covered the one sun that brought me light when I needed it most.

But more started than what ended. I had vivid dreams of us fighting, physically or one of us murdering the other. It became harder and harder to be happy for others and I started to realize things weren't right in my head. The dreams aren't only of her, it is now my family and even random people in my school who I've never even made eye contact with. I wouldn't classify them as nightmares though. I have to admit that some part of me feels so intrigued, so satisfied.

The only reason I'm scared of them is because every time I have them I get closer to actually doing it, especially when it comes to my family.

When I'm at home I have access to knives easily and I've gotten so close that I've picked up a knife while cutting vegetables and raised my arm above my mom's head while her back was to me. I think the things that are stopping me are mostly about her surviving. If I do it wrong and she doesn't die I'll have to live with the fact that I'm not even good at that.

I've thought of asking for therapy but I can't talk about my feelings to my family because I'm afraid that they'll be afraid of me and send me to some institute, not because I need help, but because they don't want me anymore.