i am still here. too tired (perhaps even lazy) to figure out the end of my life. desperate, but apparently not enough to work past the inability to put in the work to figure it out.
i am just struggling. all i can do is think about relapsing. it feels so fucking far away but it is within my reach. but i'm so scared. scared of being locked up and all the scary, paranoid thoughts i have about being locked up. aside from it never having helped with anything, what if im there forever? what if they do tests in there, torture you but never let you leave? what if my family decides i'm never going to be sane enough to be allowed to leave there?
i wish sh wasn't seen the way it is. i wish their supposed care for keeping me alive was accompanied with the knowledge that my aliveness is not without its consequences? why can't they accept a singers thing about me, even just say fuck she's just like this and move on? why do i have to continue to tolerate their abuse because they refuse to accept anything about themselves and me?
i wish i could speak about sh the way i want to speak about it. i wish there was one person on earth i could speak to about just how much sh means to me. about how it's my best friend. about how i've spent most of my time since the 7th grade vividly fantasizing about the damage i could do to myself. about how proud and happy i am of the damage i have already done to myself. about how it isn't as deep (pun intended) as it seems to them. about how none of this is as serious, as tragic as they make it out to be. about how this is it for me, this is what i want to do until im able to die. about how i would give the nothingness in my life up to go live somewhere secluded, somewhere really fucking cold, to sh away.
no place to call home, no one to call family, no one to call a real friend, nothing. just me, all on my own, going from forum to forum with nothing and nobody sticking around. this is it, this is the whole life i've lived. this is all i have to show for the 23 years i've lived.
i am just struggling. all i can do is think about relapsing. it feels so fucking far away but it is within my reach. but i'm so scared. scared of being locked up and all the scary, paranoid thoughts i have about being locked up. aside from it never having helped with anything, what if im there forever? what if they do tests in there, torture you but never let you leave? what if my family decides i'm never going to be sane enough to be allowed to leave there?
i wish sh wasn't seen the way it is. i wish their supposed care for keeping me alive was accompanied with the knowledge that my aliveness is not without its consequences? why can't they accept a singers thing about me, even just say fuck she's just like this and move on? why do i have to continue to tolerate their abuse because they refuse to accept anything about themselves and me?
i wish i could speak about sh the way i want to speak about it. i wish there was one person on earth i could speak to about just how much sh means to me. about how it's my best friend. about how i've spent most of my time since the 7th grade vividly fantasizing about the damage i could do to myself. about how proud and happy i am of the damage i have already done to myself. about how it isn't as deep (pun intended) as it seems to them. about how none of this is as serious, as tragic as they make it out to be. about how this is it for me, this is what i want to do until im able to die. about how i would give the nothingness in my life up to go live somewhere secluded, somewhere really fucking cold, to sh away.
no place to call home, no one to call family, no one to call a real friend, nothing. just me, all on my own, going from forum to forum with nothing and nobody sticking around. this is it, this is the whole life i've lived. this is all i have to show for the 23 years i've lived.
