It’s been over a month since I moved into this new town. I honestly really like it here. It’s busy and exciting. Buuuuuuuuuttttt… I have zero friends. Some people like to joke that they “have, like, no friends”, but I swear to you: I DON’T. I’ll just tough it out until school starts. Best summer ever, right?
I wish someone would ask me for my story. I feel like I say so much on here, but so little in person. If someone were to actually ask me why I left David or why I was depressed or why I lost self worth this past summer or why I get so angry with people. Or. Or. Or…
I just want someone to know that I have reasons for everything. It eats me up that the only one that knows the truth about me is me. Even Kitty doesn’t have the faintest idea of who I am and where I came from.
When I was in the forth grade, I lost my father in a matter of days without knowing for months that it was because of pneumonia. The same year, a very coercive friend of mine manipulated and persuaded me into performing sexual acts with her. A year later, when I spent the night at her house in a tent in her backyard, her uncle slept in the tent with us and I’d wake up intermittently to find him closer to us, but I forced myself to forget most of the night because my mother said if anything like that happened I’d never see her again. Every so often I would slip into states of depression that I had no way of explaining to my mother. Throughout middle school I was bullied, abandoned by friends, and tossed aside. After leaving for boarding school in the 9th grade, the remainder of my friends in my hometown stopped talking to me altogether and I was pressured into doing drugs for the first time. That following summer, I was constantly getting into trouble with my mother over drugs, lying, and other things. One day, I almost watched my friend die of an overdose. I was only 15. Sophomore year I got into a relationship where my boyfriend insisted on moving very fast even when I was uncomfortable. That Christmas break I hooked up with a very aggressive boy on a cruise ship that left right afterwards without even saying goodnight. That spring, I started to speak to David for the first time in years. Sophomore summer I was heavily into drugs and drinking. David and I were on and off all summer. To try to feel wanted, I hung out with as many boys as I could. I spent many nights too drunk to speak and was taken advantage of by both friends and strangers. By the start of junior year I was in a relatively stable relationship with David, but began to sink, once again, into my depression. Even though things will David were mostly well, I made a mistake. I got really drunk over Christmas break and involuntarily cheated on him with a friend of mine who wouldn’t take no for an answer. I decided that I couldn’t tell David the truth, but I also couldn’t lie to his face, so I left him. When I spoke to Kitty about all of my drunken nights being held down by people I barely knew, she only congratulated me on the experience. Now fully submerged in severe depression, I spun out of control and became fairly suicidal. Once I’d almost recovered, Kitty told me she was going to kill herself. She was completely set in her mind on ending her life until she went to jail. When she was released, all she could ever do was speak about herself. If the conversation wasn’t about her, it wasn’t relevant. I decided to switch schools to escape both lives and start over. Turning over a new leaf, I wonder why no one from my past knows me.
That’s where I am now.
I don’t want to throw pity parties for myself. That’s far from the point. I want someone to understand that I’m not what’s on the surface. As cliché as that sounds, people seem to forget that we only ever know as much as we dare to find for ourselves.
Maybe I’m being ridiculous.
Things have been rough lately, but, since the end of junior year is right around the corner, I’m choosing to fight it with optimism. The worst thing I can do is admit defeat and let my depression cut me off from the people and things I love again. I have to fight. However, this time, the enemy isn’t me.
No more battle scars.
I will win this fight.
You know I really tried. I was doing so well. I had my shit together for the better part of 5 weeks. I was accepted into my new high school. I was okay.
Now, I feel like I’m slipping under again. I hadn’t cut in a really long time, but I relapsed tonight. I tried to tell myself I didn’t need it, but I was having a panic attack and NOTHING could calm me down but that.
I look back into my past and I can recall that things have been this way for my whole life.
Last year, I became really depressed, but I couldn’t recognize it at the time. I didn’t know how to let it go, so I wrote the horrible thoughts in my head in a notebook.
Roughly 5 or 6 years ago, my mother took me to a therapist for just one appointment and, now that I think about it, I was trying to make sense of early depression. I told the therapist that I didn’t like to be left alone because my thoughts made me feel sad and I’d get a pain in my chest. She gave me a CD that was intended to use hypnosis to help me rid myself of my thoughts.
Even farther before that, I remember a significantly memorable roadtrip with my mom and sister. For some reason I had thoroughly convinced myself that my mother was going to pull over to the side of the road and kick me out of the car. She’d given me absolutely no reason to think this, but I had it set in my mind that she was seconds away from leaving me alone on the side of the road. I began to cry uncontrollably in the backseat. Neither my mother nor my sister noticed.
I don’t know what to do.
Maybe this is just part of who I am and how my life will be.
I have been happy. For the past 4-5 days, I have felt genuine happiness. Remembering what it feels like to recognize an emotion that doesn’t tear me apart is a ginormous weight off my shoulders. I have started telling my dorm mates that I won’t be returning next year, but it’s not nearly as hard as I’d feared it would be. I can see a light at the end of this tunnel and I feel magnificent. School is becoming easier, I can actually talk to my friends, and I don’t hate the girl in the mirror anymore. I think I found my way out.
I have finally decided on a new school for senior year. It’s an all girls catholic private school in the city that my parents just bought their new home in. Making this decision has started to change my mood a little bit. I haven’t wanted to die nearly as much. I am still incredibly irritable and negative, but I see a vague purpose to life. I might be almost happy.
I am in the final stretch before Spring Break. I have no idea what I’m doing though. My mom is coming to visit this weekend to talk with me about possibly switching schools for senior year. I don’t think I can take another year here. This place destroys me. Everywhere does, but, here, I can’t even cry by myself. I am under constant supervision and all I want in the world is to be able to scream at the top of my lungs to let out some of the noise.
How many times do I have to repeat “I’m fine. I’m just tired” before someone will catch on. Until they see I don’t know what it’s like not to be sad. It’s my natural state now. It’s become my own twisted safe haven that I cradle myself in. My counselor asked me if I wanted to get better the other day. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say yes. I just told him I didn’t know because I have no idea who I am. I don’t want to be blind and stupid as a sacrifice for temporary false happiness. I couldn’t do it.
Is it really so wrong that I wouldn’t really care if this breath was my last. If tonight when I fall asleep, I don’t open my eyes again.
This life has made me a liar. I have not told one person the whole truth. Not even myself. I lie to myself so I can manage to get by. I am no longer who I thought I was. I am just the host of this skin that I drive to make it through the day. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel like anyone really. I just feel empty. Vacant. I continue waking up though.
Whether I want to or not. I wake up every morning. I pretend I can see the sun. In all honesty, I have no clue what I am because I sure as hell don’t feel human. I just feel like this carcass. I’m an empty shell filled with nothing but hateful words and plans for the end.
I tried to reach out to my mom last night. I told her it was a rough night and I was feeling broken. She had no idea how to respond. Ultimately she told me to “try to get some sleep”. That’s just the problem. I haven’t slept much more than 4 hours a night for the past month or so. I just stay awake and let my mind wander.
Kitty came back from jail this past Friday. We caught up and she said she’s not feeling as bad anymore. I am happy for her. I hope she gets where she wants to be eventually.
As for me, dark days are all I know anymore. I have become the person I once misunderstood. I see myself die every day. As I walk across campus, I’ll visualize my body strung up in one of the trees. Lifeless. In my classes, I can see myself grabbing a pair of scissors off a desk and opening my neck from ear to ear. It’s in everything I do. Even on days that aren’t as bad, I inhale and exhale this darkness.
I’m tired of hating myself. I’m worn out trying to fake being okay. I hate that my hips and ankles are shredded and scarred. I’m an embarrassment. I know that for sure, to say the least.
Just when I think I know what might happen, I get the rug pulled out from under me. Kitty went to jail on Thursday. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw a fit. I didn’t feel anything. I give up. I’m beginning to feel a numbness. If I don’t lose her in one way, it’s another. I just can’t take it.
I want to feel freedom. I want to feel hopeful. I want to feel happy. I want to feel desire to see tomorrow. I want to feel alive.
I found myself more than once this past weekend almost hoping a car would swerve off the road and hit me. That I’d get lung cancer and slowly deteriorate. That I’d slip into unconsciousness and never come back up to the surface. I want an out. I feel everything and nothing. I’m the numbest I’ve felt in a while but the most overwhelmed with emotion that I could imagine. I’m gaining weight. I’m failing 2 classes and barely passing the rest. I have no desire to begin moving foward with building my college career. I am swallowed by my guilt for everything I’ve done. I feel like no one sees me as any sort of person of value. I don’t really see myself as valuable either. I’m just sinking and the people I’m calling out to for help won’t even listen.
I want to be done hurting.
Soon. Kitty’s telling me soon. I have to accept it now. I know I can no longer change her mind. I can’t get help for her because I know why she wants to go. I understand everything. I couldn’t have made it this far if I were her.
She’s the strongest person I know. Woman. She’s the strongest woman I know. She carried her family on her shoulders for far too long. She’s been raped. She has 3 lifelong diseases that she fights every day. She’s been cheated on. She accidentally killed her child before she knew she was pregnant. Her father beat her. Her mother left her. Lots of people hate her. She hates herself too.
We raised each other. I’ve known her for over 9 1/2. We met in 2nd grade. I had just moved into town and my first week at school I was teased for coming from a wealthy family and she came to my rescue. We have been inseparable ever since. We shaped each other as human beings. We molded our damaged childhood into a dysfunctional adolescence. We made a language all our own. We watched the world destroy one another and were their to catch each other every time.
I hate myself for not calling her dad or saying something to anyone else, but that’s not what she wants. She deserves more than this shit that life has handed her. We’ve talked about this before and I know she wouldn’t say any of this if she didn’t mean it. Call me a horrible friend. Call me a murder. Honestly, I’m letting her save herself. Even if I did tell someone, she’d find a way to do it. She’d also die hating me, which I could never bear. There is no other way. Not if I want what’s best for her.
We already talked about everything. Any final requests. Where she’ll leave the notes for everyone. What things she wants me to have and what I’m supposed to give to others. It’s almost sick how easy it was to talk about it with her.
I tried to talk her out of it, but it’s no use. I have told her every thought in my head about her doing this, but she won’t hear it. She just asked me to stay strong and watch out for everyone else for her.
It’s funny. I lost my dad when I was 9 1/2 and I’ve known her just as long. I asked her to find him for me and tell him I love him.
She swore to always stay with me. I don’t believe in heaven or hell. I just believe that when we die, we walk the earth for all eternity. Kitty thinks that too. She said she’ll walk with me everywhere. For my whole life.
I really love her more than I could ever say. She knows that, but she can’t be happy here.