September 27, 2014

I don’t know what to write or how I feel. All I know is I need to get a lot off my system.
It’s too much it’s driving me insane I’m actually going nuts and freaking out. I’m not sure if there’s any person I could talk to right now, too much happens too quickly and my mind only suffers the result. I can’t keep up, I try. I feel abused and threatened. I’m scared to share what I feel, hesitant to open up. It’s become a nightmare around here. anything I say is used against me. I can’t control my anger, and I end up hurting myself or something else. Because no one understands and it’s so frustrating. I choose myself over anything as I always have. I am the only thing that’s truly mine, the rest can be bought and sold and stolen. But I’ll always belong to me. Whatever scars I have I’ll bare the pain, but for how long. It hurts. And I do this because I feel helpless and worthless, but in the end I’m the one who’s responsible. My feelings are only an excuse to end up doing what I’m not allowed to do when I’m sane, apparently. I’m responsible for everything that’s ever happened in my life. At least that’s what he says and also I’m selfish and full of myself and I don’t really have any friends because of that. And when I breakdown, he tells me I’m annoying. I don’t know how I fell in love with a monster.
When I was sixteen and struggling with all that was happening to me, I was so sure someday I’d meet a guy who’d make all of it go away. And that person would understand me and not yell at me when I cut myself or break my phone instead calm me down and know that I need more care. I know I need help but who has the time to offer that kind of help unless they are paid, I’ve considered going into therapy but I don’t wanna be stuck with therapy the only day I get off.
I just need to be cared enough, not pity. And I end up craving the wrong kind of attention when I’m pitied. If I’d never cared about the rest I’d have killed myself years back. 2006 to be exact. I would’ve been dead. No one should ave stopped me. Why’d he stop me anyway? to go through this shit? alone.