WeirdTheaterKid02
Member
- Jul 1, 2022
- 26
More of a vent really. It was what I experienced after my first true CTB attempt. A partial.
The first thing you realize. Well. The first thing I realized when I gained consciousness was that I would definitely be in trouble if I got caught. I didn't fully remember what I had done however until about 10 seconds after. When I was unconscious I dreamt. I dreamed that I was in a void. And I was looking at myself. I was crying and screaming. Saying someone please help me. When I woke up I didn't realize I had the rope around my neck. I didn't feel it. I felt uncomfortable but no rope. Until I felt it with my fingers and was able to untie it. There was a red line around my neck for the next few days. I'm honestly surprised no one saw it. Or noticed anything off about me, must be my amazing acting skills. I was less scared that I had just tried to kill myself, and more scared that someone would know that I had just tried to kill myself. By then I should have really realized I wasn't faking it. But you know those doubts never go away. I lie about things to make myself seem more like a victim than I am. But i think it's more about my own desperate need for someone to say, are you okay? Like I'm substituting certain events with other lies so I don't have to actually tell anyone about the things that have actually happened to me. It makes me feel more vulnerable without actually having to say what's bothering me. When I left the closet I just started crying. Crying so hard my throat felt like it was closing again. I put on markipliers videos. Since he's the only person that has ever made me feel someone okay in a long time. But I've never really felt true comfort from people in a long time. It's a strange thing to feel. To have no one. Absolutely no one. And if you think about it, if you actually told someone about your problems you'd have someone. But you refuse to let anyone in because you know that no one is equipt to handle or even begin to understand what you're feeling. You hear peoples advice. Like your mothers or friends and you think. There's no way this is helping me. And you convince yourself that they're only talking to you like that to make you feel better. Because that's the only way you know how to feel better. Like helping other people through their mental issues helps yours somehow because you say what you'd wanna hear in that situation. And you know what to say because you've imagined someone saying it to you every time something goes wrong In your life. And your anxiety is still fucking through the roof. 24/7 no matter what. I'm drowning in my own problems. And I know it's my fault. I didn't try hard enough to fix them. I didn't have enough energy to fucking solve my problems. And I push away anyone who wants to help me with that. I know I'm the problem. I should just kill myself. But even then I'm the problem. Making other people feel like shit. No matter what you write in a letter people would feel responsible. I wish I could just die in some cruel accident. Like a fire or a school shooter. Then people wouldn't feel like it could have been avoided. They could just mourn without guilt. And even that's manipulative as fuck.
The first thing you realize. Well. The first thing I realized when I gained consciousness was that I would definitely be in trouble if I got caught. I didn't fully remember what I had done however until about 10 seconds after. When I was unconscious I dreamt. I dreamed that I was in a void. And I was looking at myself. I was crying and screaming. Saying someone please help me. When I woke up I didn't realize I had the rope around my neck. I didn't feel it. I felt uncomfortable but no rope. Until I felt it with my fingers and was able to untie it. There was a red line around my neck for the next few days. I'm honestly surprised no one saw it. Or noticed anything off about me, must be my amazing acting skills. I was less scared that I had just tried to kill myself, and more scared that someone would know that I had just tried to kill myself. By then I should have really realized I wasn't faking it. But you know those doubts never go away. I lie about things to make myself seem more like a victim than I am. But i think it's more about my own desperate need for someone to say, are you okay? Like I'm substituting certain events with other lies so I don't have to actually tell anyone about the things that have actually happened to me. It makes me feel more vulnerable without actually having to say what's bothering me. When I left the closet I just started crying. Crying so hard my throat felt like it was closing again. I put on markipliers videos. Since he's the only person that has ever made me feel someone okay in a long time. But I've never really felt true comfort from people in a long time. It's a strange thing to feel. To have no one. Absolutely no one. And if you think about it, if you actually told someone about your problems you'd have someone. But you refuse to let anyone in because you know that no one is equipt to handle or even begin to understand what you're feeling. You hear peoples advice. Like your mothers or friends and you think. There's no way this is helping me. And you convince yourself that they're only talking to you like that to make you feel better. Because that's the only way you know how to feel better. Like helping other people through their mental issues helps yours somehow because you say what you'd wanna hear in that situation. And you know what to say because you've imagined someone saying it to you every time something goes wrong In your life. And your anxiety is still fucking through the roof. 24/7 no matter what. I'm drowning in my own problems. And I know it's my fault. I didn't try hard enough to fix them. I didn't have enough energy to fucking solve my problems. And I push away anyone who wants to help me with that. I know I'm the problem. I should just kill myself. But even then I'm the problem. Making other people feel like shit. No matter what you write in a letter people would feel responsible. I wish I could just die in some cruel accident. Like a fire or a school shooter. Then people wouldn't feel like it could have been avoided. They could just mourn without guilt. And even that's manipulative as fuck.
