Long time lurker, first time poster. I'm not sure what I'm looking to gain by posting this; I have my plan set out and acquired, just need the balls and a quiet day.
I'm just... so tired. I try, so hard, all the time, at everything. And no one cares enough to notice, or thank me, or help me, or say that they appreciate me, or tell me they're proud of me or I'm doing enough or I'm good enough or anything. Whenever I am asked "How are you?" My response recently is "Well, I'm not six feet under, and that's about all I can ask for." And all I get is a chorus of "o I get that," or "Haha, yeah, it be like that!". It is all I can ask for not to be dead right now. I am in fight or flight and my body is spending all its energy fighting itself.
There's a thousand things wrong with me, mentally and physically. My great grandmother, my grandmother, and my mother all killed themselves. So I suppose I'm just carrying on a family tradition.
I really thought I was doing well today - I went to my classes, and I ate and didn't throw up. I hung out with a friend and I made plans to see them again tomorrow. But then I got home and it was suddenly four AM and everything is wrong and terrible and I'm updating my suicide letters again and staring at the bottle of SN in my closet. I read a poem that was short and sweet and terrible and seemed to sink its fingers into the little tears in my heart and *pull*.
I don't want to bore you with the details of my miserable life, LOL. But to summarize, I'm in chronic pain and disabled, a likely BPD sufferer, alcoholic, bulimic, depressed, kleptomaniac, compulsive liar, etc etc. I'll be doing the world a favor when I go.
I just don't want to be tired anymore. I hope you're all doing well, and if you're not doing well, I hope that you find comfort in knowing that I am with you.
I'm just... so tired. I try, so hard, all the time, at everything. And no one cares enough to notice, or thank me, or help me, or say that they appreciate me, or tell me they're proud of me or I'm doing enough or I'm good enough or anything. Whenever I am asked "How are you?" My response recently is "Well, I'm not six feet under, and that's about all I can ask for." And all I get is a chorus of "o I get that," or "Haha, yeah, it be like that!". It is all I can ask for not to be dead right now. I am in fight or flight and my body is spending all its energy fighting itself.
There's a thousand things wrong with me, mentally and physically. My great grandmother, my grandmother, and my mother all killed themselves. So I suppose I'm just carrying on a family tradition.
I really thought I was doing well today - I went to my classes, and I ate and didn't throw up. I hung out with a friend and I made plans to see them again tomorrow. But then I got home and it was suddenly four AM and everything is wrong and terrible and I'm updating my suicide letters again and staring at the bottle of SN in my closet. I read a poem that was short and sweet and terrible and seemed to sink its fingers into the little tears in my heart and *pull*.
I don't want to bore you with the details of my miserable life, LOL. But to summarize, I'm in chronic pain and disabled, a likely BPD sufferer, alcoholic, bulimic, depressed, kleptomaniac, compulsive liar, etc etc. I'll be doing the world a favor when I go.
I just don't want to be tired anymore. I hope you're all doing well, and if you're not doing well, I hope that you find comfort in knowing that I am with you.
