Eristelle
Well-known member
Today I taped my mirror until I couldn't see my horrible reflection..
Wherever I'm feeling near suicidal, my reflection is the last thing I want to see. I hate it. It makes me want to smash it. In a normal mood, usually I touch around where I would want plastic surgery at. Knowing ill never have the money for that, it's just frustrating. I'm not accepting this hideous figure. I don't want to. My personality is something to despise. Therefore I can't be loved on the inside if my outside is too disgusting. I wanted to cut my face with a razor. Seeing how i already look like a monster there's no point in caring if I leave scars on it. I want to cover every mirror in the house. Sadly it would be unfair to my family, who need it far more than I do.
My body is simply revolting. So I took laxatives just to make myself suffer. I don't think I ever want to eat anymore. I just want to make myself suffer. What's the point in relieving myself from pain? I don't care about myself anyway. If anything I hate myself more than anything to hate on this planet. It's useless to even type this. After all, nothing anyone could say will help anyway. I hate writing in actual journals. Guess that's why I'm here. I wish many things. Like never existing. Or at least being someone else. People think abortion is wrong. It could've stopped me from existing. A useless being that barely exists to begin with.
I hate everything about me. There isn't a thing good about me. People think I'm smart, but what the hell do they know? If this complement is coming from the same people who think I'm remotely normal looking, it's just useless platitudes to make me feel better. That's all it is. Every single piece of positively directed towards me are platitudes. Just like when I was told I wasn't alone after my kitten died, pointless sweet nothings to make me feel better.
If I were to die, maybe my mom can finally move into a two bedroom apartment rather than the costly three. Seems like i get in the way if everything she wishes to do. The useless hateful black Sheep, of the family is what I am. What can I do besides wallow in self pity? Which actually can't even be called self pity if I hate myself too much to even give pity. Whatever. I know I don't have any talents anyway. I never fit in wherever I go. Websites, outdoor activities, schools, my own house, even in my own day dreams.
What is it that keeps me alive? Fear of pain? Because after I lost everything I'm pretty sure I'm just living because of fear of pain now. Here I am. Typing possibly the lowest entry I've ever thought of. I'm always wasting time. Sleeping this hellhole year away is an example. What do I care? What does anyone care? Everything is my damn fault anyway. I choose to be depressed. Choose to have social phobia. Choose to think like this. Choose to be useless. Choose to do nothing. Choose to self harm. Choose to be hateful. Choose to be self loathing. Choose to be considered too eccentric to have friends or to fit in. Choose to be alone. Choose to be an idiot. Choose to be ugly, choose to even be here when I could just kill myself.
And in the end, I should disregard everything I just said and pretend I'm not a psychotic, depressed, mentally disturbed individual and write a pointless entry with smileys. No one the Internet could tell I'm screwed up anyway. Unless they see me in real life, Im just another avatar. As for reality, it's harder to pretend. That's why I'm usually locked up. No one can see my hideous self, or question me about my actual mood.
And I could get away with most things if no one seems to notice I exist. Like being dead. And being found two days later because I sleep all day and they know that. I guess there is something good about my stupid traits after all.
Wherever I'm feeling near suicidal, my reflection is the last thing I want to see. I hate it. It makes me want to smash it. In a normal mood, usually I touch around where I would want plastic surgery at. Knowing ill never have the money for that, it's just frustrating. I'm not accepting this hideous figure. I don't want to. My personality is something to despise. Therefore I can't be loved on the inside if my outside is too disgusting. I wanted to cut my face with a razor. Seeing how i already look like a monster there's no point in caring if I leave scars on it. I want to cover every mirror in the house. Sadly it would be unfair to my family, who need it far more than I do.
My body is simply revolting. So I took laxatives just to make myself suffer. I don't think I ever want to eat anymore. I just want to make myself suffer. What's the point in relieving myself from pain? I don't care about myself anyway. If anything I hate myself more than anything to hate on this planet. It's useless to even type this. After all, nothing anyone could say will help anyway. I hate writing in actual journals. Guess that's why I'm here. I wish many things. Like never existing. Or at least being someone else. People think abortion is wrong. It could've stopped me from existing. A useless being that barely exists to begin with.
I hate everything about me. There isn't a thing good about me. People think I'm smart, but what the hell do they know? If this complement is coming from the same people who think I'm remotely normal looking, it's just useless platitudes to make me feel better. That's all it is. Every single piece of positively directed towards me are platitudes. Just like when I was told I wasn't alone after my kitten died, pointless sweet nothings to make me feel better.
If I were to die, maybe my mom can finally move into a two bedroom apartment rather than the costly three. Seems like i get in the way if everything she wishes to do. The useless hateful black Sheep, of the family is what I am. What can I do besides wallow in self pity? Which actually can't even be called self pity if I hate myself too much to even give pity. Whatever. I know I don't have any talents anyway. I never fit in wherever I go. Websites, outdoor activities, schools, my own house, even in my own day dreams.
What is it that keeps me alive? Fear of pain? Because after I lost everything I'm pretty sure I'm just living because of fear of pain now. Here I am. Typing possibly the lowest entry I've ever thought of. I'm always wasting time. Sleeping this hellhole year away is an example. What do I care? What does anyone care? Everything is my damn fault anyway. I choose to be depressed. Choose to have social phobia. Choose to think like this. Choose to be useless. Choose to do nothing. Choose to self harm. Choose to be hateful. Choose to be self loathing. Choose to be considered too eccentric to have friends or to fit in. Choose to be alone. Choose to be an idiot. Choose to be ugly, choose to even be here when I could just kill myself.
And in the end, I should disregard everything I just said and pretend I'm not a psychotic, depressed, mentally disturbed individual and write a pointless entry with smileys. No one the Internet could tell I'm screwed up anyway. Unless they see me in real life, Im just another avatar. As for reality, it's harder to pretend. That's why I'm usually locked up. No one can see my hideous self, or question me about my actual mood.
And I could get away with most things if no one seems to notice I exist. Like being dead. And being found two days later because I sleep all day and they know that. I guess there is something good about my stupid traits after all.