“She Is Written In A Foreign Tongue.”

I’m trying so fucking hard and no one sees that. I’m trying so fucking hard to stay alive but my breathing is getting shallow and my heart is beating slower and if I don’t wake up tomorrow just fucking forget about me.

if im not 20lbs down by christmas

i will simply pass away

I’m trying so fucking hard and no one sees that. I’m trying so fucking hard to stay alive but my breathing is getting shallow and my heart is beating slower and if I don’t wake up tomorrow just fucking forget about me.

I HATE MYSELF! I really do.

Today, my mom had just gotten back from work when she decided to take us out. I got worried and tried to come up with a good excuse. Of course it didn't work. We went to Zaxby's and I feel disgusting. I loathe every part of my body. I ate four chicken pieces. FOUR! How disgusting am I. Not only that, but I also ate lots of fries. I wasn't thinking clearly. I am so worthless. I hate everything that I do. I AM SO SORRY FOR EATING. God, please forgive me....

I can feel everyone getting sick of me, and to be honest I don’t blame them, I’m pretty sick of myself at this point.

I’m jealous of those who can function like a normal human being. They don’t have anxiety holding them back from everything, they don’t struggle to get out of bed or have to put on an act that everything is fine when its not. They don’t struggle to hold friendships and relationships… they don’t feel sad for no fucking reason everyday. Those that can hold jobs and work towards their dreams, the ones who have self esteem and see the beauty in themselves. Those that know what its like to feel safe and secure, not insecure and fearful of it all. 

A part of suicidal ideation or self harm no one talks about is the numbness to the subject that comes with it. I sit and scroll through pages and pages of cries for help, suicide notes and plans and feel nothing. No worry, no concern, no crushing feeling in my chest. Nothing. Those familiar feelings are now replaced with a strange familiarity, a kind of comfort that it’s not just me.

Fuck. When did it get to this