The Past And Stuff
"Ceilings" by Local Natives [Mr. Sandwich complimented my music taste. Nice.]
Haven't stopped your smoking yet
So I'll share your cigarette
Just to feel it in my fingers
Walk around 'til 3 am
Tell me what I know again
To keep myself from second guessing
April 3, 2015 Friday 1:46 PM
PEOPLE I MISS TODAY:
Adrian (I kinda have a crush on him again, but then it's useless because my one friend told me he's going to prom with another girl, and I really like that girl, she's really great. I don't want to hear about their relationship or anything but it makes sense. Yeah. Okay.)
Some unknown person that I haven't met yet
A weird thing happened today. I apparently sent feedback to someone before I was in the hospital. What's especially strange is that I think today is exactly two years since I was hospitalized. Yeah. It is. I didn't even notice that until now. It doesn't hurt, either. I think I forgave myself. Or maybe I'm just numb. Can't tell. Whatever.
The point is, I read this paragraph I wrote to someone's diary and it was about how I had stopped cutting and couldn't deal with not causing myself pain. I rolled my eyes when I saw that. I was never addicted to cutting. I liked hurting, it made me feel like I was getting what I deserved, but there was never a time when I couldn't stop.
It's just an urge, an urge I still get today, but I never act on it. Not because I'm being strong but because I'm lazy and secretive. Cuts are the opposite of privacy. Back then, I was confused and wanted someone to help me. Also, even though my emotional state was painful as fuck, I thought it was beautiful. I was caught up in that whole romanticization of depression thing that everyone's always complaining about.
Anyway, now, I still get really depressed. Hell, I've probably thought about killing myself daily this entire week but I don't want anyone to know that.
I don't want help. Not from my parents, not from my friends, not even from doctors or medication. I just want to be okay again. That's it.
I'm not willing to worry my parents. I don't want them to keep their eye on me, don't want them to ban the computer "in case it's triggering," don't want to do puzzles, don't want to go to therapy every week, don't want to cry on a friend's shoulders, don't want anyone to tell me I'm worth it, don't want to swallow a 300 mg pill every day, don't want to forget.
I don't want anyone asking if I'm alright and when I say that I'm fine, I don't want them questioning that. I don't want them asking why I'm so quiet or why I'm tired all the time. Don't want to feel dependent on medication, don't want to go through that whole thing where I get on meds, feel better, then forget what it was like to feel bad and go off them because I think I can handle it and everything will be fine.
I feel like I'm running and I'm not made for long distance.
The point is (I really got off track haha), cutting is a cry for help and when I'm depressed, I don't fucking want help, I don't want anyone to see me, I'm so disgusted with myself, I'd rather just not exist for awhile until everything is fine.
It was really weird reading that e-mail. Weird seeing the words I had typed, and especially weird not remembering that night at all.
I don't know I feel today. Dreadful, I guess, but also alright. First day of spring break! I don't want to do anything the entire time but I have track (my body honestly hates me, I think I'm breaking the bones in my leg but I'm not allowed to listen) and I have friends who want to see me and friends who need to complete projects with me.
I should be glad but there is really only one person I want to talk to right now and I don't want to discuss anything important. I just want to hear a voice speaking about a ton of things, take my mind off myself. I really need that.