dollangel
Member
- Jul 23, 2025
- 7
I realized today that my birthday is in 3 months. things are worse for me than they've ever been-- funnily enough, each year just gets worse, and each year I think "this is the worst year of my life," and each year it is correct. I am.. so, so far past my breaking point. I can't keep moving anymore. last year, I wanted to attempt the day before my birthday. I didn't want to be any older, and none of my cries for help are ever taken seriously, ever even heard, really. Not unless I have a noose around my neck. none of it is even real, unless I am actively threatening my life. so, I wanted to prove how bad things were. get someone to finally take me seriously. understand what I was saying. and I wanted to go to the hospital, I wanted to be hurt, I wanted to at least get close to dying. the psych wards here are horrible and abusive and have genuinely traumatized me, but I'm at the point where being there is preferable to my abusive home life, so I didn't care what happened to me anymore.
having a date planned made everything feel so much better. it was soothing, I felt calm, I wasn't having panic attacks every day, it was like things were how they were meant to be.
but, I didn't. my best friend begged me not to. she was practically in hysterics, so desperate for me to not do anything risky. I just wanted her to be okay, so I agreed to at least postpone it, and wait until my psychiatric appointment a few days after, so that I could ask my psychiatrist for help, talk to her about my feelings and situation. but when I did, nothing happened. my psychiatrist didn't respond to anything I said, didn't even really seem to acknowledge it at all. surviving anyway and throwing away the plan I'd had for a year beforehand amounted to nothing. I was another hated year older for nothing.
it kind of broke me. I had several breakdowns, but I didn't take it out on anyone personally. I wrote a few times about how frustrated I was that I survived for nothing. that everyone kept telling me to just stick it out, just keep living, just keep going keep going keep going on and on and on but with no actual reason why, no help for getting me out of the situation that causes this desperation and ideation, just that they can't stand the ugly, scary thought of someone dying. enough to deny me my autonomy and my own choice to decide when I myself have had enough, when I want to stop. I feel like a sick pet its owners are keeping alive because they can't bear to say goodbye and put it down, even though the longer they do so, the more they just enable and cause its suffering.
it wasn't really about her. it's something everyone in my life has done. I don't blame them, ultimately. selfishly, I don't want my friends having the same thoughts to die, either. even if I can't deny their choices, their autonomy, I still want them here. but it hurt her, and that's understandable. but she's gotten suddenly distant since then. we were so close. literally talking all day, every day, for 4-5 years (bad at math and I'll get more upset if I check dates to be exact). then after my birthday, she stopped talking to me. I'm always the one initiating conversations, and she doesn't talk to me the way she used to, even sometimes leaves me on read, which never, ever happened before. for so long, one of the only things keeping me going was that she was the only person I could talk to about the things I love. the only person who ever meaningfully engaged in them with me. we had creative projects together, and she was my motivation for writing, and now I just have all these unfinished things that I feel nothing for anymore, because the only person who cared about them is so far away now. I'm incapable of feeling joy from art on my own, so having someone to share it is so important to me. she meant so much to me that I sometimes thought "I don't know what I'd do without her."
but here I am. and it feels so miserable. I feel like my suicidal nature ruins everything. I broke up with my ex around the time of my last serious plan, because I didn't want them to have to deal with a dead partner, among other things. and after that they never spoke to me again. I want love so badly, but I feel like it's unethical to ask someone to love a suicidal person. someone as depressed and horrible as me. knowing I will likely die much sooner than they can handle. and even then, regardless of that, regardless of anything with permanence like that, my depression makes me so miserable to be around, makes me so broken as a person that I am doomed to bring down anyone who tries to love me, like this.
I don't want to get any older. I can't stand getting older and still being in the same place I was a decade ago, as a stupid helpless child, now overgrown in an adult body and still trapped trapped trapped. there is no other way out, even if it's scary. I don't know what to do. I'm clinging to any attention I can get. It's getting bad, but oh well. I don't have anything else. I feel pathetic and broken and guilty and like a horrible person. I miss my friend. I don't know how to repair that. I don't think I can. I've talked about it and done what I can to reassure her but I don't think it's enough. I think it's just something I can never mend. it makes me want to die even more.
I don't know. I ruin everything. I don't want to see my next birthday. I really don't. I hate my birthday for so many reasons, it's such a stressful and traumatic time for me. I wish I didn't age at all. I wish my life wasn't taken away from me. living in a time loop for the past decade that will never end.
having a date planned made everything feel so much better. it was soothing, I felt calm, I wasn't having panic attacks every day, it was like things were how they were meant to be.
but, I didn't. my best friend begged me not to. she was practically in hysterics, so desperate for me to not do anything risky. I just wanted her to be okay, so I agreed to at least postpone it, and wait until my psychiatric appointment a few days after, so that I could ask my psychiatrist for help, talk to her about my feelings and situation. but when I did, nothing happened. my psychiatrist didn't respond to anything I said, didn't even really seem to acknowledge it at all. surviving anyway and throwing away the plan I'd had for a year beforehand amounted to nothing. I was another hated year older for nothing.
it kind of broke me. I had several breakdowns, but I didn't take it out on anyone personally. I wrote a few times about how frustrated I was that I survived for nothing. that everyone kept telling me to just stick it out, just keep living, just keep going keep going keep going on and on and on but with no actual reason why, no help for getting me out of the situation that causes this desperation and ideation, just that they can't stand the ugly, scary thought of someone dying. enough to deny me my autonomy and my own choice to decide when I myself have had enough, when I want to stop. I feel like a sick pet its owners are keeping alive because they can't bear to say goodbye and put it down, even though the longer they do so, the more they just enable and cause its suffering.
it wasn't really about her. it's something everyone in my life has done. I don't blame them, ultimately. selfishly, I don't want my friends having the same thoughts to die, either. even if I can't deny their choices, their autonomy, I still want them here. but it hurt her, and that's understandable. but she's gotten suddenly distant since then. we were so close. literally talking all day, every day, for 4-5 years (bad at math and I'll get more upset if I check dates to be exact). then after my birthday, she stopped talking to me. I'm always the one initiating conversations, and she doesn't talk to me the way she used to, even sometimes leaves me on read, which never, ever happened before. for so long, one of the only things keeping me going was that she was the only person I could talk to about the things I love. the only person who ever meaningfully engaged in them with me. we had creative projects together, and she was my motivation for writing, and now I just have all these unfinished things that I feel nothing for anymore, because the only person who cared about them is so far away now. I'm incapable of feeling joy from art on my own, so having someone to share it is so important to me. she meant so much to me that I sometimes thought "I don't know what I'd do without her."
but here I am. and it feels so miserable. I feel like my suicidal nature ruins everything. I broke up with my ex around the time of my last serious plan, because I didn't want them to have to deal with a dead partner, among other things. and after that they never spoke to me again. I want love so badly, but I feel like it's unethical to ask someone to love a suicidal person. someone as depressed and horrible as me. knowing I will likely die much sooner than they can handle. and even then, regardless of that, regardless of anything with permanence like that, my depression makes me so miserable to be around, makes me so broken as a person that I am doomed to bring down anyone who tries to love me, like this.
I don't want to get any older. I can't stand getting older and still being in the same place I was a decade ago, as a stupid helpless child, now overgrown in an adult body and still trapped trapped trapped. there is no other way out, even if it's scary. I don't know what to do. I'm clinging to any attention I can get. It's getting bad, but oh well. I don't have anything else. I feel pathetic and broken and guilty and like a horrible person. I miss my friend. I don't know how to repair that. I don't think I can. I've talked about it and done what I can to reassure her but I don't think it's enough. I think it's just something I can never mend. it makes me want to die even more.
I don't know. I ruin everything. I don't want to see my next birthday. I really don't. I hate my birthday for so many reasons, it's such a stressful and traumatic time for me. I wish I didn't age at all. I wish my life wasn't taken away from me. living in a time loop for the past decade that will never end.
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