I just want to slam my head into the wall over and over again. Until I can’t feel anything, until I stop thinking, until my heart stops beating. 

I’m supposed to be getting better, and I thought I was. I’ve been going out more, I have an actual love life, and I don’t seem to be in pain all the time. 

Then I realized it’s because I’ve been lying to myself. I’m not happy. Nothing. I just wish I was dead so that I can get away from this pain. So I don’t have to deal with the every day pressures of life. Of actually having to make something of myself, so I don’t dissapoint anyone. 

I’m so close to breaking. And I feel like shit for it, because why should I break, when I’m telling everyone else to hold on?

I’m such a fucking hypocrite.

Do you even just kinda feel off all day, and when you finally get home you realize it’s cause you’re so imperfect, and ugly, and fat, and stupid, that no one could ever love you?

I mean, why would they love me? I have nothing good to offer in return.

I have sex. That’s all I’m good at. But not even enough to make them stay.

I want a relationship, but I don’t. I’ve been pushing every potential suitor away.

The last guy I told “I love you” to, stopped talking to me in a week…That was the first boy I said I love you to, was actually in love with him, in a year. The first one I illegitimately opened my self up to…and he stopped talking to me. And it was painful, and humiliating when I realized that I never really meant anything to him.

I want someone to love me. But I don’t. I have panic attacks. Why would I ever want to make myself so vulnerable to someone? No one knows what it’s like in my head. I’m fucking nuts. I have gauze and blades stocked up so in case I ever cut myself, I can quickly clean up everything. 

I just. I’m falling deeper into my depression, and my meds aren’t working for me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t.

I realized I was in love about a week ago. 

It was with a friend. Who’s brother I dated, after I fucked him. Then when his brother and I broke up, we started talking again. Yeah, fucked up, I know. I’m a fucked up person, you should know this by now.

Anyways long story short, after about a month of talking, he confessed that he liked me, and I told him I felt the same. Well then about a month after that..we had sex. I realized I loved him, and I told him. A week later he’s acting like I never existed in his world.

So that’s how it went. I actually opened up myself to someone in a year, and that’s what happened. And I felt pathetic. I’m 17. Shouldn’t I be over the whole, “Oh I like you too, and you’re special and let’s have sex” thing? Especially when he left. I mean, that’s not new. 

So why did I feel so used?

I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. He’s gone, and I never meant a thing to him.

All I can think about is how his hands were all over me. How his lips were on my body and our sweat mixed, and our moans were combined in the air. And that he was supposed to be the one, and he was supposed to be mine, and that he would love me scars and all.

But it didn’t turn out that way.

And every time I flash back to us having sex, I feel like throwing up. Like this deep sadness, and anger, and I’m so disgusted with myself for falling for something like that…for someone being able to be so cruel and still live with himself.

I want to throw up. I want to claw my skin off, and get rid of every touch, every kiss anyone has ever planted on me. I want to cut myself where no one will ever think I’m attractive again. No one will ever want to be with me so I will never be used again. Then I would never feel the need to throw up every time I think about all the hands that have been all over my body. 

I’ve been fighting with myself to not drag my blade from my wrist to my forearm. To bleed out every drop of my disgusting soul, and desires, and me. Because I’m not worthy of anything. 

Not even love.

I don’t think I could get any lamer doing my face spams, but hey, I don’t care. I felt pretty tonight, and even better? Without any editing.

Even though I’ve got a million things wrong with me, sometimes I just stop and think how lucky I am to even be me.

Yea, I am, Dad. Maybe if you pulled yourself out of your drunken stupor you could’ve stopped it before it was too late.

So here I am looking rachet as hell waiting for my hair dye to sink in I was on tumblr and messing around when I noticed something walking my way I looked up and it’s Chase (my best friend) and he scared me and he threw my check at me and we just stared at each other for a few seconds; me shocked, him lost for words
I broke the silence and said OUT OF ALL THE TIMES YOU WANT TO STOP BY YOU DO IT NOW?! AND HE BUSTED OUT laughing how am I supposed to maKE HIM FALL IN LOVE WITH Me if he always walks in on mE BEING WEIRD?!

In that moment I realized that, eventually, everything is going to be okay. 
Maybe not today. 
Maybe not tomorrow.
But eventually.

And even though right now I can’t see any future for me, I know there has to be more to life than just this. 

Chase and I are going to the Out of the Darkness walk, it’s a walk raising awareness about suicide, and raises funds to prevent it.
This is going to be a big milestone for both of us and I’m really scared. I don’t know what to expect.



Besides 3 miles of walking.