I hate how holding a knife is my way of coping now. Imagine being isolated since you were 15, and you do a bunch of dumb horrible shit and it worsens your mental state and when you're 18, you meet a girl, and she's the one who reaches out to you and helps you. You become fast friends, best friends even, you open your secrets to her, cause you genuinely trust her.
By the time you're 19, you finally get out into the world, and get a job, and everything is going for you. You're gonna try and sacrifice everything if you have to, just to get to another country to be with her… suddenly drama happens, both of us do dumb shit, and suddenly the friendship is over. It feels like a death of a close friend, and you fight suicidal urges for months.
Don't give me fucking suicide hotline numbers, I don't want that shit. Means nothing if I don't actually have the money or resources to take advantage of it all. So fuck it. I still think if I kill myself, I kill myself and whatever. That or I end up in the hospital, left with a scar and a large bill.
Who gives a fuck anymore. I'm already mentally fucked up, I don't have anyone I truly, truly, absolutely trust, any "happiness" I have I feel like is moreso a distraction. Honestly killing myself is dumb, I like the concept of bringing my mental pain into the physical sense. Maybe I'll give myself a concussion again like when I bashed my head into hardwood. Don't care anymore, sick of being reminded of how I might have lost everything that made me feel like I had a purpose… that I was truly loved… only to be abandoned. I hate abandonment, I hate it I hate it I hate it.
I wanna feel my pain but I'm too pussy to do it. I fucking just want to slash the arm somewhere and make a cut already and call it a day.