sometimes i want to mock or dismiss early teenage feels that i see on my dash.

but then i remember that i would have literally thrown myself off a bridge for steph and i'm like OH. 
i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

i'm so fucking sorry i exist i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry trust me, if i had my way, i wouldn't be here i'm so sorry i'm sorry god i just want to be brave enough to kill myself okay so i can stop wasting everyone's time and energy and fuck i just want to fucking die nothing's ever gonna come of my existence anyway

i'm just so fucking tired and so fucking miserable and i'm so, so sorry that i feel like this, and i'm so sorry that i keep posting about this shit because even i don't want to read about it but i need to put the thoughts somewhere and god i just want this to be over i want to be dead

i want the courage to be dead
thank you josh ramsay for producing songs like Low and No Place Like Home so at least I have a nice soundtrack when i cut myself
I wish I could bleed this sadness out.
i'm not even sad anymore, i'm just tired.

tired of living. tired of being unemployed. tired of having no direction. tired of being in this body. tired of being me. tired of being.

i have no motivation to do anything. not riding my bike, not singing and dancing, not coffee dates with friends, not researching grad schools, not applying for jobs... nothing. i don't want to do anything.

i'm tired of self-harm, i;m tired of trying again and again to be productive every day, i'm tired of hating my body, i'm tired of the brief moments when life is okay because it never stays that way
and who are we kidding, i'll never make it back to finland. i'll never see hanna or jamie or anyone from exchange again and even if i did what would it matter i'm so fat now no one will like me i'm such a downer

but i'm just. so. tired. i want to just give up. if i had a method right now that would kill me for sure 100%, i would use it, no questions asked. but i don't and my parents are coming to visit this week which means i am obligated to maintain bodily functions until thursday no matter how i may feel about it

and i'm debating talking about this at group but i'm just so tired of pretending like i give a shit and i don't want to waste anyone's time, i really don't, not the counselors, not my groupmates, and i think given long enough i might just get around to stopping the clock by myself

funny story: i'v enever been able to imagine my life past like 25-30. it's always been just a blank void to me. i honestly don't think i'll make it another decade without killing myself.
so i know that if i killed myself, my friends would be worried/sad for me. and living, i hate that because i love them and don't want to worry them. but you can't feel guilty when you're dead.

i don't think i'm scared of suicide; i'm scared of what would happen if i failed.
 I just put a plastic bag over my head and tied it there but took it off before I choked and does that count as a suicide attempt or would you like me to try harder next time?
this is the unasked question. we always come back here, don't we? this same place, four walls, one room. i am in you; there is no escaping me. you can lose me for a while (in a mug of coffee, a sunny day, a friend's smile) but the track marks on your wrists call to me and your thighs are red where i have tasted your flesh.

i will taste more flesh before this is through, and more than that besides.

you know why i'm here. you know what i want from you. you know what i will ask you to do.

the dark night, early to mid-october, is cold, silent )
sleeping in my own skin, who needs nightmares?
why the fuck am i alive ?
this whole emotional intimacy thing is terrifying yet absolutely exhilarating
- Jamie
- tumblr ppl (whom idek irl????? but they are so sweet and i didn't even ask for anything, i specifically asked for ppl not to talk about the two posts i made but jamiedrawsthings just gets me?? and i just??? apparently my message on her i-feel-shitty post really made a difference for her and i love making people happy and that is actually what has kept me from ... doing... bad things to myself these last couple of days and ;alsdjas;)
- i'm trying with David, I really am
- JA  MI E
please, please, please let me get this job so i can save up money and fly to finland and stop one of my best friends from killing herself please god
i'm still puzzled by how some people are born without depression? like, it feels so fundamental to me now that i can't imagine life without feeling this way and hating myself on some rock-solid level

are there people whose last thought before sleeping is not "i hope i don't wake up"? is it possible to wake up in the morning thinking something other than "i hate myself"?

i don't think i'll ever be a good person. not even "good enough".
I wish i could cry

JESUS these meds are fucking STUPID
(they're not, they help, but U G H living life in a state of emotional constipation is so damn frustrating)
thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you so fucking much you have no idea you just fucking i don't know but it was a good thing you did a good thing

those words were exactly the ones i needed to hear, thank you so much you are amazing. you have no fucking clue and even if i swore at you till i was blue in the face that wouldn't even come close to expressing how grateful i am for your fucking message you fucker

and jesus fucking christ i am so sorry for sending that message because i know it's not what you needed to hear now of all times, not what you wanted to hear, i shouldn't even be writing shit but fuck you just handled everything so well and you're not the only person i've told it to but yours are the words that just punched through my defenses (did i have any left? i don't now) like fucking bullets through sheet metal and i can't feel my ribs or the spaces between them anymore but my heart is still tripping with adrenaline from seeing your message

i'm so, so sorry i told you. why the fuck did i tell you? i'm still beating myself up over it; you don't deserve this knowledge. i didn't even want you to respond to it; i guess i just wanted you to read it so i could say i told someone cause that's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? (one day i'm going to narrate one of these posts out loud, and you'll be able to hear what i think of myself because vitriol only translates so well onscreen) but i told you - not much, not everything, not even half, literally maybe two sentences - and you, you fucking understood what i was saying and that - that jesus fucking christ you have no fucking idea how scary that is because as much as i wanted you to see, i didn't want you to see. but you saw and i can't say thank you enough but also i feel like a real shitty person because out of everything you're dealing with right now, i am not something you need to be dealing with. it's just hard for me to be a rock when i feel like drowning.

but you're amazing. and so, so kind, and i don't deserve you i swear and fuck you're just the best and i want to take all the shitty stuff out of your life and light it on fire and then pee on it i just i feel like i haven't done anything for you but whine about my problems when really you should be doing that to me because you deserve so much more than what i'm doing and i'm here for you i swear, just tell me how i can help

fuck everything, i just want to say thank you so fucking much for listening, for understanding, for letting me know. you are honestly a gem of a human being and fuck. thank you.
this is not what you need to hear or want to hear or deserve to hear, god knows you don't deserve to hear this, but this is my way of telling somebody because that's what you're supposed to do, isn't it.

i thought i was over it. i thinki was wrong. i don't think one ever really gets over this. these. i took my meds today, but i can still feel the panic submerged beneath my skin because i can see my stomach move against the fabric of my shirt. and my face, my stupid, fat, ugly face

it's no use describing because there aren't words for the enormity, the immensity of this hate, loathing, fear

and even if there were, tell me how i'm not walking in her shadow
i know they're just thoughts but they scare me too

it would be so easy
it would be so, so easy to take the whiskey from the fridge. to tell the flatmates i'm going for a bike ride and just.

i can hear the water calling my name, i can feel its pull in the darkness
it would be cold, i would be drunk, i could do it
it would  be so easy. i would be scared, terrified, hurt - and then it would be over
i want to die.



March 2017

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