Falling in and out of love with oneself can be a very afflicting matter.
I self-harmed for the first time in a while yesterday and tried to lose my voice, which didn’t work. Now I’ve got bruises and a sore throat without the relief I wanted.
You know what really hurts?
When you do your absolute best and do whatever it takes to help someone pursue something and they become successful, but they give more credit to someone who begged to be added to their list of people to thank rather than you. They added someone because they were annoyed and didn’t want to hear from that person anymore despite it holding some form of importance to you. They did it without a single bit of hesitation because they think of it as something small, though it means the world to you.
I hate that I push people away at a moment’s notice all the time, but I hate that these people only ever pay attention to the most minuscule of things in times when I’m upset. They focus on typos when I tell them I’m about to commit suicide. When I tell them I tried cutting open my wrists but it didn’t work out, they tell me I used an extra comma.
Then when I come back after calming down because I needed the time and space, the response I receive is always the same, “Why are you so mad?”
My response? Fuck you.
It’s been so many years since I felt comfortable opening up to someone and I tried it despite not really feeling comfortable because I thought it necessary, but the moment I tell you one personal thing, you go off generalizing and minimizing my problems. Thanks. Really get to appreciate you as a friend when you do that.
I got tired of this post immediately, goodbye.
It’s so fucking hard to talk about my depression and other issues because I have absolutely no one to fucking validate it.
I mean I myself can understand that I suffer from depression among other mental illnesses, and I sympathize greatly with those who openly speak about their own experiences or can come out and tell people that this is the reason why they wont be able to be the happy-go-lucky friend for a week or so. It’s just that I get so fucking envious of these people because they can talk about it. The moment I brought up the possibility to a friend they jumped on my throat asking whether I’ve seen the professional to ‘confirm I’m not lying’ and what was wrong with me/my life that could cause this. They knew that my family didn’t and will never have enough money for healthcare and they knew that I’d been suicidal on and off for years and the reasoning behind that, and I myself had no clue why I suddenly felt as if life had less color. How was I to answer? I come to people looking for help and all they give me is more anger and confusion and at least that’s better than feeling nothing at all, but sometimes, sometimes it isn’t, sometimes I’m better off feeling like worthless shit because of something I can’t control than feeling like killing myself is the best course of action over something I should be able to control.
And if I choose to talk about it openly, someone will still jump me to ask the same questions and it’s so fucking rude and so fucking irritating that I can’t answer any of those questions. It upsets me that I have gone to my family asking for them to guide me to medical help and they brushed me off over the fact that I’m too young, they say that I’m not considered a working member of the family yet. I work, I do my best to help the family sell the house and I help my mother with legal work and research. How am I not a working member? I don’t understand. Sometimes I accept that judgement and take my place once more, but when I reach out and ask for medical examination and am denied on the grounds that my father likely has a much more severe case of it if anything at all and that I’m somehow too young to want to end my life, I feel just how ridiculous the situation is and it frustrates me to no end.