Categories

Home

Fuck My Life

  • Flag as InappropriateReport
  • Well, ok, this is going to be pretty long, I think. It's 1:16 in the morning, my mom's asleep, and I'm tired. I relapsed the other day into self harm and I'm tired of lying to my mom. If you're reading this, you're probably thinking I should tell her but there's no way in hell I'll hurt her like that. Not when she told me not to do it. I called the National Suicide Prevention Line this morning, sat through five minutes of elevator music, and right when this lady picked up, I lost my nerve and hung up. I was absolutely terrified they'd send police to my house just in case but they didn't. I'm 13, going on 14 in two months, I'm terrified of my weight. I'm 158.2 lbs and standing only at 5'5. That's overweight, my mom says I'm fine, I'm curvy and shit but I'm overweight. I know it's effing true. It's a constant cycle. I stop eating because I'm fat, and then I get hungry, feel sick with myself after I eat, and then puke. It's my life. Although my life's considered 'ok'. I mean, I've moved around a lot ever since I was 5, once every year I think. And my half brother, died from a car wreck in 2013. We weren't that close but we were, yah know? I cared about him and he cared about me. He was my older brother, and I loved him. But there are so many people with worse lives than mine. It pisses me off that I'm so selfish and I can't stop. Kids are being abused, raped, murdered, by their parents and here I am wallowing in self loathing. I'm a fucking disgrace to myself. My dad's been in jail most of my life, and he came out in September of 2015, he was in there because he raped someone. He RAPED someone, and yet I still love him. I know he loves me, that's indisputable. He doesn't live with me, I was born because my dad cheated on his wife with my mom. He just happens to be Jamaican and they don't self harm over there, they're stronger. My mom told him of my problem and I knew he was disappointed in me. I'm supposed to be strong, yet I was stupid enough to start cutting. My therapist, died from heart complications I think, it was back in April. It was so effing sudden and I had just moved far away from where she was so I didn't even get to say a true goodbye. She was so nice and I'd known her since I was 5. She had this British accent from Manchester and she was so pretty. Therapists are tricky though. I loathe the thought of talking to someone who only truly cares about the amount of 0's on their paycheck, but she was different. She actually cared because she loved me. She used to call me Miss, as if I were a queen. My life is an absolute mess, I feel like I'm falling apart. Yet, I feel as if I have absolutely no right to be. My mom and dad are still alive and my dad's still somewhat in my life. I have siblings that I don't live with, I have no sicknesses, I have a couple good friends that are awesome. I have absolutely no right to be depressed and yet I am. I have this itch in my wrists that won't go away. I've had suicidal thoughts before and I don't know if I'd ever try it but I just needed to get this off my chest because I'm tired of not being able to talk to someone without feeling like I've disappointed them.



    Posted 3 weeks ago


    Comments (0)

    (There are currently no comments for this confession)


    Add your comment


    Please input verification code: