The amount I overdose is unreal, and I still won’t fucking die.
Last time was before school on Friday, I collapsed in class. They never did anything because it’s happened so much and I tell them I fell or was tired. They really don’t care.
The cuts in my wrist are at least 5 times the depth they usually are, and in a sick way that makes me happier. The only downfall is that it won’t close over, so it’s just a big hole in my arm.
ha
Papa Roach has honestly saved my life before, their music and lyrics make me feel like I have someone going through the same things as me.
I recommend you to listen to them and give them a chance. t the moment my favourite must be ‘Hollywood Whore’ or ‘Last resort’
A date with a blade and I’m never late
Orders from the devil and I obey
Red marks on my skin that bleed
It flows down showing me I’m free
A rope hanging from high above
Tempting me, promising love
I must resist so I go away
and turn to the date with a blade.
“no comment.”
how do you explain that to someone who can’t possibly understand? that shit gets so loud and crazy, and the only way to make it stop is to hurt yourself. because sometimes voices will tell you that you must. and because other times you choose to, just to distract yourself from all the noise. how do you explain that hurting yourself is your only way to be calm?
he wouldn’t get it.
SHE doesn’t even get it, “but why must you do it? what if you don’t?”
“i CAN’T not.”
“but why?”
“it terrifies me to even think about it. they can kill me. don’t you understand?”
“only if you let them. so what if you don’t?”
then i spend a lifetime being tortured. that’s what. and i end up completely losing my mind and killing myself just to get away from it all. that’s what.
that’s how…
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I don’t want to go on. I’m fed up of always feeling left out. In school, at home, everywhere.
Standing in the group we have at school, they all talk and laugh. They don’t include me in the conversation, I just stand there. Lucky if I even get a space in the circled group, mostly being pushed out to the back to stand by myself.
I’m fed up of standing myself, hopelessly making up reasons to why they don’t include me: ‘They are having a personal conversation’ ‘They just forgot I was there because I’m quiet’ ‘Maybe if I say something…’
But in conclusion. They don’t care, they might claim they do, they might pretend to be there. They might make awkward conversation to try pity me. But I’m fed up. No one cares. No one. Only Calum, and even then he can’t be there all the time.
Even more than before I’ve been thinking of what happens after we die. Do we go to heaven? Do we get reincarnated? Or do we simply just die? What I believe is that we are gone, no more living, especially if we take our life. We wanted it over right?
Then I got to thinking about everything that is going wrong in life, school, friends, family. The only thing that is keeping me going is my boyfriend. He knows about my self-harm. But when he found out I starved myself and binged and purged, he was far from supportive. He told me to stop it or he’s leaving me. Which any of you can understand, it only made me worse.
I am getting slightly thinner, I can see my ribs starting to be more prominent and my hip bones stick out. But I still get that fat fold in my belly when I lean over.
But back to subject. I have my suicide planned out. I have the methods I can choose from. We just need a when? We are just waiting on something to push me over the edge.
International Self-injury Awareness Day is MARCH 1ST.
Wear orange, write “love” on your arms, or draw a butterfly or orange ribbon on your wrist to support those who have or still are struggling with self-harm.
Show you care and understand!
This day is not only to show support, love, care, and understanding to people who have or still are self-harming, but to educate people on what it is, and eliminate some of the stereotypes involved in self-harm.
This is my 2nd year promoting online & trying to raise awareness.
This year, thankfully, my platform is larger.
I’m not only a promoter. I’m a sufferer.
Show your support for your friends and loved ones.
Please share & reblog this post. Be there as a shoulder to cry on, as arms for a hug, as a friend ~ to listen.
There are many forms of self-mutilation besides cutting.
You can visit http://www.selfinjury.com…
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Two days ago, I relapsed. I started cutting again. But this time much, much deeper.
I had 1799 calories today which made me feel even worse, so I picked up my old best friend. That beautiful sharpened blade. So shiny, still had a drop of blood on it from two days ago. I cut into my leg, but not completely realizing how deep I was at first. But when I felt how good it was once The blade was deeper, the pain numbed my body for longer. Releasing me from the outside world and my mind for just a while.
Sadly my wrist is still bleeding, but my leg has stopped now. It still has that lovely stinking feeling.
To be 100% honest, I don’t want to recover. If I did I’d be miserable.
Looking in the mirror and just hating every part of myself has become a natural feeling now.
I want to cut all my fat off and be skinny. I don’t care if I’d have tiny boobs, or not a ‘nice’ bum. I want my hipbones to be more prominent, a flat stomach, a thigh gap, no wobbly legs. I just want to be perfect.
Who am I? seems such a simple question, but so impossible to answer
I am no one, just like everyone, I should be someone
I’ve been loved, I’ve been hurt
I’ve been walked on, I’ve stood strong
I’ve laughed, I’ve cried
I’ve been liked, I’ve been hated
I’m attractive to some, others won’t look twice
I can be loving, caring and gentle
I can be hateful, unkind, and cold
I am someone, just like everyone.
If anyone even reads this at all, my twitter is this. I’ll be supportive and helpful and emotional but if anything I’m there for anyone @n0_secrets_
“She can paint a lovely picture, but this story has a twist, her paintbrush is a razor and her canvas is her wrists”
I just find this so true and it’s meaningful in so many ways, i don’t even know why.
I woke up this morning feeling quite okay, well by okay I mean the same as always. Slightly depressed with a mild tone of smiles. I got into school, but in my first two classes there was a lot of bitching about this horrible girl bullying one of my friends and it made me quite upset. At break I saw myself in the mirror and it felt like my heart fell to my stomach, I felt ugly and when I said so to my friend she said nothing other than awkwardly continuing her actions.
At lunch I never ate, because I’m realizing I’m getting fatter lately. I never ate all of last week, but my dad found out, I’m sure because he watched me eat at the weekend. It doesn’t help that our group of friends have that type of humor where you make fun of each other. It is starting to give me a complex.
When I got home I purged (made myself sick) and started feeling lower than usual. It got to the stage I over thought everything at the only way to get it away was to cut. Again. I found my blades while tidying my room and before I knew it my arm was covered in blood more than last time. It gets deeper each time, just to numb the inside pain for a little longer.
kim wbu? 