hikikomorizombie
Ouch
- Jan 15, 2024
- 771
i wish i could ask my mom to help me kms. ik she has pills hidden somewhere that'd make overdosing easy asf, or she could help me get a gun. she knows what wanting to die but feeling stuck is like, & has said b4 that she might not mind committing double suicide w me. that was awhile ago though, when i was a teen & we were still close.
obv ik i can't ask for her help w dying, not even a roommate or most ppl on the internet would help w that. it's just frustrating how she's also riddled w mental illness, knows the anguish simply being alive can bring, & has seen me struggling + suffering for so long yet done nothing to help except let me rot & devolve (which isn't really helping). & now that im barely a person, i can't even die comfortably. even though she played a huge role in me being atp.
she's never felt like or been a mom, really. she's had her moments, but she raised me as her best friend. she insisted on me trying coke w her & her friends @ 1 of their parties, but i refused multiples times. her drug dealer actually had to step in & say he didn't let kids use his stuff, & then she finally backed off, lol. i've never been into stims & have no desire to try them. ive seen her so fucked up she didn't even flinch when the guy carrying her into the house smacked her head against the doorframe. 12-14 year old me would bring her plastic bags to throw up into in her pitch black room after a particular rough night of partying. she had a revolving door of 'cuddlebuddies' & i unfortunately knew all of them by name. she didn't take me to a doctor for a diagnosis till i was 15, & when i got it told me, "I always knew u had depression," yet didn't bother intervening or getting me help till i specifically asked for it. she went out midday once when i was 13 & didn't come back home or answer her phone for the rest of the day, her coworker came to feed me dinner that night. 1 of my earliest & only childhood memories is waking up completely alone in our apt, unable to find/call her, & when i looked out the window her car was gone. i panicked & started sobbing, & tried to put on a movie to help me calm down but couldn't get it to work, so i cried myself to sleep alone on the living room floor. i was 6/7. i found out later as a teen that she'd left to go get meth. she'd burst into my room in the middle of the night to ask to drive her to the store to get more alc even before i got my license, & if i tried to refuse she'd say she'd just go anyways, then proceed to stumble into my dresser + wall + door on her way out, so obv i couldn't let her go. i've held her on the kitchen floor & listened to her drunken scream-sobbing in my arms abt her parents & past traumas, trying to soothe her, more times than i can remember. whenever i tried to turn to her for help/advice abt life & my mental illness & the shittiness of Everything, all she could say was, "Yeah same. I know. Life is shit & it gets worse," which is true, but really not what 16 year old me was looking for. i've tried to explain to her both calmly + logically & upset + screaming, abt how her drinking has negatively affected me, & her as well, but she doesn't care.
we got a matching tattoo on our index fingers when i was 18. half a bow on hers & the other half on mine, so when we put our hands tg we're 'tied tg'. i made sure to maintain mine, & despite it being on the hand, it didn't wear off or fade @ all. my mom didn't bother taking care of hers, no matter how many times i reminded her & pointed out it was fading. now her's is basically gone, while mine is still fully there, & i can't think of anything better that symbolizes our relationship.
oh mom. who could i have been if you'd let me go w my stepfather, the only real adult & dad i've ever known, like i'd asked for when i was 11?? ik i wouldn't be on a suicide forum, waiting to kms but ranting to the internet void in the meantime. that's for sure.
obv ik i can't ask for her help w dying, not even a roommate or most ppl on the internet would help w that. it's just frustrating how she's also riddled w mental illness, knows the anguish simply being alive can bring, & has seen me struggling + suffering for so long yet done nothing to help except let me rot & devolve (which isn't really helping). & now that im barely a person, i can't even die comfortably. even though she played a huge role in me being atp.
she's never felt like or been a mom, really. she's had her moments, but she raised me as her best friend. she insisted on me trying coke w her & her friends @ 1 of their parties, but i refused multiples times. her drug dealer actually had to step in & say he didn't let kids use his stuff, & then she finally backed off, lol. i've never been into stims & have no desire to try them. ive seen her so fucked up she didn't even flinch when the guy carrying her into the house smacked her head against the doorframe. 12-14 year old me would bring her plastic bags to throw up into in her pitch black room after a particular rough night of partying. she had a revolving door of 'cuddlebuddies' & i unfortunately knew all of them by name. she didn't take me to a doctor for a diagnosis till i was 15, & when i got it told me, "I always knew u had depression," yet didn't bother intervening or getting me help till i specifically asked for it. she went out midday once when i was 13 & didn't come back home or answer her phone for the rest of the day, her coworker came to feed me dinner that night. 1 of my earliest & only childhood memories is waking up completely alone in our apt, unable to find/call her, & when i looked out the window her car was gone. i panicked & started sobbing, & tried to put on a movie to help me calm down but couldn't get it to work, so i cried myself to sleep alone on the living room floor. i was 6/7. i found out later as a teen that she'd left to go get meth. she'd burst into my room in the middle of the night to ask to drive her to the store to get more alc even before i got my license, & if i tried to refuse she'd say she'd just go anyways, then proceed to stumble into my dresser + wall + door on her way out, so obv i couldn't let her go. i've held her on the kitchen floor & listened to her drunken scream-sobbing in my arms abt her parents & past traumas, trying to soothe her, more times than i can remember. whenever i tried to turn to her for help/advice abt life & my mental illness & the shittiness of Everything, all she could say was, "Yeah same. I know. Life is shit & it gets worse," which is true, but really not what 16 year old me was looking for. i've tried to explain to her both calmly + logically & upset + screaming, abt how her drinking has negatively affected me, & her as well, but she doesn't care.
we got a matching tattoo on our index fingers when i was 18. half a bow on hers & the other half on mine, so when we put our hands tg we're 'tied tg'. i made sure to maintain mine, & despite it being on the hand, it didn't wear off or fade @ all. my mom didn't bother taking care of hers, no matter how many times i reminded her & pointed out it was fading. now her's is basically gone, while mine is still fully there, & i can't think of anything better that symbolizes our relationship.
oh mom. who could i have been if you'd let me go w my stepfather, the only real adult & dad i've ever known, like i'd asked for when i was 11?? ik i wouldn't be on a suicide forum, waiting to kms but ranting to the internet void in the meantime. that's for sure.
Last edited:
