Venting just smth about sh and childhood

[scully]

i feel so broken. so fucked up. im in uni and cutting. im in uni and i cant even act normal. be normal. one of the cuts def needed stiches. im def not gonna get them. i feel so disordered. so troubled. cause people around me are getting better. they are processing their emotions like adults and im here just laughing and cutting and hating myself. and every time i look at my body i hear the quote from tumblr (cause ofc i was on tumblr just like every ed wanna be teen) ,,cause who would love a girl with scars" and this question feels so engraved in my brain. slowly destroying whatevers left of my self worth and confidence. cause idk who would. i dont want to be just my scars. just my past. but rn the scars are who i am. they are fresh. some arent even scars yet. they are regularly being created with a sharp razor and unsteady hands. i cant put them behind me if they are still very much a part of who i am. i am not a girl with scars. i am a girl with fresh, deep and shallow cuts hoping to get noticed. praying that my problems become the reason someone loves me. and knowing that the only thing my problems have ever done is repeatedly ruin every fucking relationship i was in. i want to be noticed so bad and yet i do everything to hide how i feel. and i dont think im pretending just in front of others anymore. i cosplay as this organised version of me that can deal with shit even when no ones around. i want to be that person. i want to be the girl my mothers always wanted. the girl my father had hoped id become but never got to see. i hate who ive become. and sure i can blame it all on the way i was raised but ive made my fair share of choices. my fair share of mistakes. im not innocent. i made the decisions that made me who i am today. cause no one forced me to buy my first pack razors. no one forced me to keep buying them or to pick one up today. and sure, im alone. but who is to blame here? if everyone around you leaves every fucking time, maybe, just maybe, theyre not the ones at fault. maybe then its time to face the fact that youre just not a likeable person. i dont know who i am. i can define myself by what i do. im a student. im a call center worker. im a cutter. im a dog owner. im a controlling, compulsive mess that hates themselves. im dramatic and attention-seeking and i love to pretend im not. im a fake, flawed person that wants to be saved by some fucking knight in white armour on a fucking horse and i cant accept the reality that no one's saving me. im nonbinary but maybe i wouldnt be if i didnt feel like i failed as a woman. maybe if i were hot id be a chick. maybe if i hated myself less id be comfortable in my body. maybe i wouldnt have to identify as a different gender just to seem interesting. just to be something. maybe, if i had a real personality id be cis-het cause i wouldnt have to try so hard to be ,,not like other girls". maybe then, id just be normal. but how could i be saved if im not troubled? if im not different? how could someone love me if im not interesting? ofc for love im too flawed and too disordered. it all makes so much sense btw. youre just not retarded enough to understand this logic. but dw i can just trace it all to my so very privileged, i mean traumatising childhood that so many people wouldve killed for. its not my fault, you see i have a mother and used to have a father. so technically every single thing thats wrong with me is their fault and not mine cause im just a grown up that never learned how to take accountability for their fucking actions so i will blame everything on my family cause thats just convenient. i am pathetic. but maybe some people love pathetic. maybe some people will want to rescue ,,pathetic" from ,,pathetic" cause rn the only thing standing in ,,pathetic's" way is (can you guess?) ,,pathetic". i have no actual problems. my problem's thinking and analysing and coming up with different ways i can be fucked up and different explanations for why, none of which include any sign of my accountability. cause i dont take that. i pretend to. but deep down im just like my father (which is obviously through no fault of my own), hed never take accountability either. always the victim, never the perpetrator. reminds me of someone. ohh, right! of me. it reminds me of me cause the more i analyse the events of June 7th 2024 the more i start to realise that maybe, just maybe i was to blame. i was 17. i wasnt a child. i knew what i was doing. i knew the consequences and if i didnt then i was just being delusional and fucking stupid. i shouldve known that his reaction was very much on the table. i shouldve known that he was just this type of person. it was preventable. and i was the one who couldve prevented it. maybe i traumatised myself on purpose. all i know is that this couldve been very easily avoided. i hate myself. i think this note illustrates this pretty well. i think the self hate is very apparent. written about literally, shown in the bits of sarcasm and occasional slurs that are definitely not mine to reclaim. but then again, im just a poor mentally ill teen that comes from a terrible family that gave me everything i needed and more. that loved me and never hit me hard enough for it bruise. a family where physical violence was only occasional and the shouting never alarmed the neighbours. im from a family that showed me what loves supposed to be like. that you can fight, threaten to divorce each other, hit your kid, shout, swear, not talk for hours, make every single weekend a living hell and still make up and stay together, no matter how much your child wants for the mother to leave their father. cause if you say that you love the child it fixes all. after you hit your kid, after you drag your 11yo from one room to another and throw them on the floor you just have to buy their love, their forgiveness with candy and everything will be fine. you fixed it. and dont worry its not your fault when your child starts hitting themselves to stop crying, when your child pulls their hair to calm down. its not like you did the exact same thing yelling in their face you were going to give them something to cry about, right? right? and when your child grows up to be a self harming mess, dw. you did your best. you talked to the abusive parent and asked them to be nice. you yourself were less abusive, so it almost makes it not count. and the talks were wonderful, they worked every single time for like 3 weeks. but you did everything you could. you told the child you loved them after you used that secret they told you against them. you did an amazing job parenting cause how could you have known that violence can affect their mental health? how couldve predicted taht your actions will have consequences? so just know, that at the end of the day its not your fault. you just got unlucky and got an overly emotional, fragile child. you couldnt have known that they would react to years of abuse mixed with love the way they did. you didnt have a great childhood eaither and turned out fine. you are an amazing parent and dont let that ungrateful bastard tell you otherwise. they dont know how hard it is to not hit the children they chose to have and raise.