snowbrand
find the right words
- Sep 10, 2023
- 26
i feel like i have a lot to say but i only say 20% of what i really want to. it's like there's never a right time, never enough time, or maybe it wouldn't be helpful to the situation. but there's so much inside of me that i wish would just. come out. get out of me. i want it out. i hold too much, i remember too much, i remember things anyone else has forgotten. for what? nothing i remember benefits me at all. i only ruminate on things that serve no purpose. nothing i think about helps me at all. it's just a festering wound that i stare at and make no effort to take care of.
i wonder why people put up with me. i hate that they do. i know i sound selfish and ungrateful, but i wish i was hated as much as i feel like i am. i feel so detestable, so vile, and yet, people still flock to me. why? i have nothing to offer, i have nothing left for myself, why would i have anything of value for anyone else? i don't understand, and i hate that i don't understand. i hate that i just don't get it. i don't see the appeal. everyone wants something when i have nothing to give, and i hate that i have nothing. every day, all i do is disappoint myself. i guess there's a silver lining there. like, i still have enough expectations for myself to even be disappointed at all.
when will i get tired? when will i quit? when will everything be too much? i'm sick of waiting. you know, i talked about this with my therapist today. i told her that a reason i self harm is to regulate my emotions. my nervous energy, as she put it. i told her i have no solid foundation at home which makes me anxious. i feel anxious when things are going good. when my mother is happy, when she's not yelling, when people talk to me, when i enjoy spending time with people. there's always this underlying anxiety. i'm just waiting for things to end. i'm so used to people being volatile, their moods shifting as easily as the weather. so when that doesn't happen, when things stay okay. i feel so horrible. i feel out of place. it feels wrong. it feels wrong and i need to make it stop. so i do it on my own. if nobody will get mad at me, if nobody will suddenly drop me or hate me or tell me everything they dislike about me, i blow it up myself. i push people away and i hurt myself. and then i feel fine. i feel better when bad things happen to me, and i wish more did. every day i think of something horrible happening to me. some days i really really hope and wish for my fantasies to come true. at work i think of being crushed by something heavy. being hit by a car. being attacked by someone. crashing my car. maybe even the world just blowing up. i just want something bad to happen to me. it's not that i feel i deserve it. i know i do. it's that i need it. i need it to feel normal. i need to be hurt to even know i'm alive.
i've been trying random substances lately. otc meds, mostly. antihistamines, pain relievers, dxm, noz, what have you. when i'm older i'll try more. i think by then i'd actually die of an overdose, or the combined effects of everything will just hit me at once. maybe my liver will finally give out and end me. waiting, i'm always waiting. i hate it. i feel insane. i want to rip my skin off and hang it on a flagpole for everyone to see, but i don't know what that would do for me or anyone else. nothing.
i wish i were pretty. i'm at this weird middle ground where i'm not pretty, but im not super ugly either. i'm just mid. i'm not even "super" average because that would mean i stand out in some way. i don't i'm just. unmemorable. nothing about me is notable. i'm literally the embodiment of an npc. i'm so forgettable it'd be a miracle if people remembered anything about me at all. i'm lying, you know. i'm an unreliable narrator. i know i'm memorable. i know people remember my name, vague features about me, things i do, how i talk, what i say. i know. i'm a human. most people remember humans. but everything i said is what i feel. it's what i wish were true. there's a disconnect between what i feel and what i know is real, and i feel like it's worse, in a way. worse that what? i'm not sure. i'm dissatisfied. i want what i think to be true. so much so that sometimes i take matters into my own hands to fix my reality. i feel ugly, so i don't put any effort into my appearance. i want to look as ugly as i feel. i hurt myself, i scar my body, i let my hair look unruly all so i can finally mirror what's inside. a grotesque creature everyone would shrink away from. but i'm not that, and it makes my heart hurt.
i'm so upset. why do people talk to me. why do they know me. why am i perceived. let me be nobody. let me be nothing. i want to be alone as i feel. but i don't really want that, do i? i crave human attention, human affection. but i'm never happy with anything i get. there's always something wrong with what i get, and i always tell myself to take what i can get where i get it because it's "better than nothing." so not even i know what i want. i'm stuck in the middle, everywhere, always, perpetually. i can only think of one place for someone like me, and that's in the ground. but i wouldn't wish death on anyone but myself, so there's only one place for me, which is in the ground. i don't want to be alive anymore. i want to live, but i don't want to be alive. i don't know if that makes sense. i don't know anything. dying scares me, because it means i just end. there's nothing else. i won't get to experience or be anything else. yet i tell myself there's nothing left for me anyway. i have no future, nothing to look forward to. all i do is wallow in my own sadness and self pity. i really am pathetic. a waste of space. i'm not even useful in any capacity. my body is worth no more than the corpse of an ant that's been stepped on. just food for the soil. fertilizer. that's the only value i have, and that's just when i'm dead. as i am now, living and breathing, i'm a waste of materials, time, energy, space, everything. there's nothing more i can do, nothing more for me to do.
i hate myself so, so much. i wish i had the words to express myself better, but everything i do, everything i say, falls on deaf ears. nobody will ever understand how deeply i loathe myself. i don't care what happens to me, that's why i fantasize about all the ways my life could end. but i won't do it myself, because i'm a coward. so i guess i love myself enough to not willingly take my own life. if i ever do, though. if i end up killing myself. it'll be an accident. i'll never do something dangerous with the intent of dying, but i'll do it knowing there's a possibility i could die. i'm letting god decide for me. "you put yourself in that situation."
so what.
i wonder why people put up with me. i hate that they do. i know i sound selfish and ungrateful, but i wish i was hated as much as i feel like i am. i feel so detestable, so vile, and yet, people still flock to me. why? i have nothing to offer, i have nothing left for myself, why would i have anything of value for anyone else? i don't understand, and i hate that i don't understand. i hate that i just don't get it. i don't see the appeal. everyone wants something when i have nothing to give, and i hate that i have nothing. every day, all i do is disappoint myself. i guess there's a silver lining there. like, i still have enough expectations for myself to even be disappointed at all.
when will i get tired? when will i quit? when will everything be too much? i'm sick of waiting. you know, i talked about this with my therapist today. i told her that a reason i self harm is to regulate my emotions. my nervous energy, as she put it. i told her i have no solid foundation at home which makes me anxious. i feel anxious when things are going good. when my mother is happy, when she's not yelling, when people talk to me, when i enjoy spending time with people. there's always this underlying anxiety. i'm just waiting for things to end. i'm so used to people being volatile, their moods shifting as easily as the weather. so when that doesn't happen, when things stay okay. i feel so horrible. i feel out of place. it feels wrong. it feels wrong and i need to make it stop. so i do it on my own. if nobody will get mad at me, if nobody will suddenly drop me or hate me or tell me everything they dislike about me, i blow it up myself. i push people away and i hurt myself. and then i feel fine. i feel better when bad things happen to me, and i wish more did. every day i think of something horrible happening to me. some days i really really hope and wish for my fantasies to come true. at work i think of being crushed by something heavy. being hit by a car. being attacked by someone. crashing my car. maybe even the world just blowing up. i just want something bad to happen to me. it's not that i feel i deserve it. i know i do. it's that i need it. i need it to feel normal. i need to be hurt to even know i'm alive.
i've been trying random substances lately. otc meds, mostly. antihistamines, pain relievers, dxm, noz, what have you. when i'm older i'll try more. i think by then i'd actually die of an overdose, or the combined effects of everything will just hit me at once. maybe my liver will finally give out and end me. waiting, i'm always waiting. i hate it. i feel insane. i want to rip my skin off and hang it on a flagpole for everyone to see, but i don't know what that would do for me or anyone else. nothing.
i wish i were pretty. i'm at this weird middle ground where i'm not pretty, but im not super ugly either. i'm just mid. i'm not even "super" average because that would mean i stand out in some way. i don't i'm just. unmemorable. nothing about me is notable. i'm literally the embodiment of an npc. i'm so forgettable it'd be a miracle if people remembered anything about me at all. i'm lying, you know. i'm an unreliable narrator. i know i'm memorable. i know people remember my name, vague features about me, things i do, how i talk, what i say. i know. i'm a human. most people remember humans. but everything i said is what i feel. it's what i wish were true. there's a disconnect between what i feel and what i know is real, and i feel like it's worse, in a way. worse that what? i'm not sure. i'm dissatisfied. i want what i think to be true. so much so that sometimes i take matters into my own hands to fix my reality. i feel ugly, so i don't put any effort into my appearance. i want to look as ugly as i feel. i hurt myself, i scar my body, i let my hair look unruly all so i can finally mirror what's inside. a grotesque creature everyone would shrink away from. but i'm not that, and it makes my heart hurt.
i'm so upset. why do people talk to me. why do they know me. why am i perceived. let me be nobody. let me be nothing. i want to be alone as i feel. but i don't really want that, do i? i crave human attention, human affection. but i'm never happy with anything i get. there's always something wrong with what i get, and i always tell myself to take what i can get where i get it because it's "better than nothing." so not even i know what i want. i'm stuck in the middle, everywhere, always, perpetually. i can only think of one place for someone like me, and that's in the ground. but i wouldn't wish death on anyone but myself, so there's only one place for me, which is in the ground. i don't want to be alive anymore. i want to live, but i don't want to be alive. i don't know if that makes sense. i don't know anything. dying scares me, because it means i just end. there's nothing else. i won't get to experience or be anything else. yet i tell myself there's nothing left for me anyway. i have no future, nothing to look forward to. all i do is wallow in my own sadness and self pity. i really am pathetic. a waste of space. i'm not even useful in any capacity. my body is worth no more than the corpse of an ant that's been stepped on. just food for the soil. fertilizer. that's the only value i have, and that's just when i'm dead. as i am now, living and breathing, i'm a waste of materials, time, energy, space, everything. there's nothing more i can do, nothing more for me to do.
i hate myself so, so much. i wish i had the words to express myself better, but everything i do, everything i say, falls on deaf ears. nobody will ever understand how deeply i loathe myself. i don't care what happens to me, that's why i fantasize about all the ways my life could end. but i won't do it myself, because i'm a coward. so i guess i love myself enough to not willingly take my own life. if i ever do, though. if i end up killing myself. it'll be an accident. i'll never do something dangerous with the intent of dying, but i'll do it knowing there's a possibility i could die. i'm letting god decide for me. "you put yourself in that situation."
so what.
