ctbcat
Yes, the everlasting contrast.
- Jul 14, 2023
- 232
i'm back. hello. i didn't give up, nor did i find my peace... dying is just, as i imagine most of this forum knows, incredibly hard... the ideation is just as strong as it would've been in february, or april, i'm only survived here because ctb is just... so low odds with most methodology... i keep thinking of jumping, but the whole 150ft rule always sticks with me, and i can't even think of a place in maybe central london where i could be allowed to climb the railing and not get tackled...
i'm so lost. how can people swear they want me alive, and then treat me the opposite? punish me whenever they figure out the ways i've been hurting myself externally to cope with the internal? insinuate i'm a burden, another problem on top of many, and then swear they care?
i never wanted to be this way. that's why each time, i've kept things secret as long as i could... but each time, cracks turn into broken fragments, another black hole within this porcelain doll... and it all falls apart. because it can't ever do anything else.
i want you to give up. but because that's what i want, you won't...
it's just all so tiring... this facade of normalcy while i still get treated like a sick person anyway.... each chore is worse than the next...
death is my only chance of peace, of love, of warmth. i'm not allowed it. it's kept at a distance from me, under a clear glass platter. i just want to die. if someone walked up to me in the street, stabbed me and left me to bleed out there, i think i'd die wanting to kiss them. wanting to thank them. i'd die with an odd gratefulness within my hollow eyes.
i'll stop writing all the conjecture now, i just wanted to put this somewhere people aren't gonna give me the cliche prevention bullcrap..... bis später.
i'm so lost. how can people swear they want me alive, and then treat me the opposite? punish me whenever they figure out the ways i've been hurting myself externally to cope with the internal? insinuate i'm a burden, another problem on top of many, and then swear they care?
i never wanted to be this way. that's why each time, i've kept things secret as long as i could... but each time, cracks turn into broken fragments, another black hole within this porcelain doll... and it all falls apart. because it can't ever do anything else.
i want you to give up. but because that's what i want, you won't...
it's just all so tiring... this facade of normalcy while i still get treated like a sick person anyway.... each chore is worse than the next...
death is my only chance of peace, of love, of warmth. i'm not allowed it. it's kept at a distance from me, under a clear glass platter. i just want to die. if someone walked up to me in the street, stabbed me and left me to bleed out there, i think i'd die wanting to kiss them. wanting to thank them. i'd die with an odd gratefulness within my hollow eyes.
i'll stop writing all the conjecture now, i just wanted to put this somewhere people aren't gonna give me the cliche prevention bullcrap..... bis später.
