Things are rough.

I really don't want to be that one person that complains when things get too bad, but I feel like now is the right time to complain. Just a warning, you might not want to read this if you're sensitive to topics of self harm, family issues, drugs, among a few other things.

For the past few months everything has been piling up hard. I started working again, which I was scared to do while still in high school. I did it though. Over the summer I felt like I had a real community and even some friends, but I no longer feel that way. It's been a steady decline, especially within the past two weeks. I have always had issues with my dad. He has never really understood emotions. He's so angry and closed off all the time. When I told him I was overwhelmed this past week, he called me childish. I sat there in front of him and sobbed about how I feel like I'll fail my classes, won't graduate, and be a failure. I still haven't decided what to do with my life, I mean I have unrealistic dreams and things I wish I was good at, but other than that, I'm lost. I cried and broke down and explained that I really see no point in being alive if it will always feel like this, or worse. He called me names, told me to grow up, explained that everyone is exhausted and stressed, then bullied me to my face.

That was the start of my week, later in the week I had the same meltdown, I skipped school because I was thinking about driving and not stopping. I think about going missing a lot, I guess. I often think about starting over and disappearing somewhere. I stayed home though, I didn't leave my bed except for the morning to get food for the first time in a bit. My dad was downstairs, he complained about me being emotional again. That's when the painful part hit. He said my friends were "Cocksuckers who don't care about me." That really hurt. I don't think my friends really like me, that sort of solidified my thoughts. He calls me lazy a lot, but this time felt worse. I was so exhausted, I couldn't keep myself up and alive, even when we argued. When he left for work I decided to do anything I could to numb my brain. I never really want to die on the off chance something better happens to me, but I do want to forget about this part of my life. I couldn't stop hitting and scratching and yanking at my own hair. I sliced my leg up, but honestly I didn't get far with that at all, because even hurting myself was exhausting. 

This is going to sound awful, but I think about drugging myself up a lot. So I can stop feeling for a while. I think about how it can't possibly ruin me any more that what I've hit now. In my head, the ideal think for me to do when I'm breaking down is to run away somewhere and end my life by taking a crazy amount of drugs. I know that's just a thing I've made up in my head, but I'm worried that's where my future is headed.

Maybe I am being a baby, maybe I am emotional for not being able to handle every personal thing I'm dealing with well. I can come to terms with that. To me it's just killing off something that was useless to begin with, I've been like this for years, everyone tells me I need to get over it because I'm fine. In my head I just feel like I need to die to make it stop. Maybe that's dramatic or selfish or whatever you want to call it. I've begged for help so many times and no one has actually noticed. That's probably why I'm dumping my feelings here. I'm fine with that now, I don't need the help anymore, but I would be lying if I said I didn't want anything. I still have things I wish I enjoyed or wish I could experience later, but I don't think that will happen. If I have to live out my whole life as some failure of a person who can't do anything, Oh well. People have been saying that for a while now, I just have to come to terms with the fact that they're right.

I don't see it getting better, nothing anyone can say to me will help much, because I feel like I've lost it. I don't know, maybe I'm meant to sit here for my whole life and do nothing until I just don't wake up anymore I guess.