fungi.lemme.die
Member
- Feb 7, 2026
- 5
This is my first thread so please give me a little grace as this is hard for me to put into words, also this is rambling ans may or may not be coherent. I have more notes at the end.
I grew up in a very mormon family in an extremely repressive community. At the time I didnt even realize what might have been going on around me, too blindsided by my childish naivety too see the truth. The members in my ward being told they were too sexual, too wrong, too satanic to be a part of the church. The hypocrisy running deep into the crevices of their souls. Now I'm not against religion, i strongly belive religion is amazing when experienced and approached correctly with actual research and thought going into it, however I myself am no longer religious in any form other than my deep commitment to fanfiction. But, the hate that was my childhood was hooded by my rose tinted glasses. I was a fairly normal child, if normal was having panic attacks at every wrong texture, too loud noise, or belief that everything i do might end my life. I distinctly remember chewing carrots and meat for 30 minutes each bite, too afraid to choke, too afraid of death, my fears controlling my every action.
I moved as an early tween, from Utah to Idaho, one life into another. It was during this move i first began to realize how much of a hypocrite I was. It was easy, easy leaving everything, everyone, every memory from my childhood. Too easy. I dont understand why it has been like this, me being so willing, so able to let everyone and everything leave. Perhaps I was use to it, never keeping friends for longer than a year or 2. Regardless, i began my new life, new personality, a fresh start. I made friends with the wrong sort, learning every behavior I needed to fit in from them, unaware of how what I was learning would affect me for years to come. I acted sexual in nature, crude jokes and actions, anything to get a laugh, to "fit in". Unaware that I, the jester, was simply performing in front of the kings court. I didn't truly fit in, not at the church i still continued to go to in hopes it was true, and not at school where I simply humiliated myself. It was during those first years as a teen I began to realize death was an option. Ever the thorough researcher I began to seek out answers to my questions. "Why do I feel like everyone is come to love leaves me?", "Is there life beyond death?", "Why cant i seem to fit in?". And the ultimate question, "Will anyone even care if I die?". At this point my view of my entire world was unraveling before my eyes. I found the CES letter, and its strong evidence parked with my waning belief led me to leave the church, albeit not officially as like I said, im a hypocrite. Unable to tell others I no longer believe, while somewhere in my soul hoping that the beliefs I based my entire life around growing up was somehow, someway true. Then came my identity, I began to become unsure of who I really was. Simply a pile of broken mirrors, reflecting a twisted version of "me" to others, copying their actions and thoughts in order to "fit in". Its exhausting being 20 different people a day, yet unable to truly be yourself with anyone but yourself. Even then, doubting if you struggle do know yourself. I cycled through different labels, trying to find something to tie me down and feel more real but nothing stuck, leaving me once again sure I am just a broken person.
In highschool I reached an all time low. My friends, gone. My aspirations, gone. I was simply a mirror, unable to do anything but reflect other people back at themselves. It was then I begain thoroughly researching the best way to die. It wasnt that I hated myself, it was that I new that everyone hated me. Regardless of how many words of comfort I was given, and like I've said, im a hypocrite. Ill be the first to tell anyone that they are worth living, but somehow im unable to implement this belief with me. I decided a deep cut to the wrist, through the main vein would be my most accessible option. I couldn't hang myself as I have no solid point to hold my weight. I dint have access to a gun. Over the counter medication rarely works. Drowning was not an option as I live near no lakes and my bathtub is not deep enough. Too young for more concrete options, too old to believe truly in my heart rhat this woukd end me. I was found before I had gotten deeper than the first couple layers of skin and tissue, as my xacto blade was my only accesible knife. Somehow my present last messages had sent too early, a misclick leading to my ultimate embarrassment. I was sent to a mental hospital. One week. Thats how long they kept me there. Not long enough to do any real good, but lets be honest, was it ever even about "fixing" me? I have to say im an incredible actor. My daily Masks and mirrors I have grown long accustomed too leading others to believe i was fine. And then I tricked myself, and I really was "fine". Until I wasnt. My grades, falling. My friendships, dwindling. My job, falling behind and disappointing. It was then I was officially diagnosed autistic. Everything made sense, but my feelings of wanting to die didnt leave like my friends did when they found out.
I've come to realize something. Im so fake. Why do I feel suicidal all the time, but I genuinely do feel happy and enjoy experiencing things i love, like shows, food, and fanfiction? Im such a bad suicidal person. My experiences not bad enough to warrant me feeling this way. Im not sad enough, im not crazy enough. Im not bipolar, but I go through waves of intense happiness and love for life before crashing at the slightest indication someone I truly cared for doesnt like me, or something goes wrong, or literally any negative thing that is aimed in my direction. I dont understand. Genuinely. Im a nervous wreck, rambling in attempts to get any coherent thoughts out. My anxiety is through the roof, I overthink everything. Im not diagnosed with ocd but I feel the need to double and triple check everything and if I do something "wrong" I have to do it again and again. Im not anything. Im a shell filled with tiny broken pieces I've chipped off of other people and called my "own". Im an artist painting my perfect life in my mind. I have a rich imagination, ao strong I sometimes dont even know if what I thought was a memory was real or not. And now here in am. Still living at home, ready to quite my job. Newly 18, yet without the freedom to do anything adults could do due to my still restrictive home. I just want to die. I want to end it now while I still have good memories. But I also want to understand.
I dont know if any of this makes sense. I couldn't care less if it does or doesnt. I also have chosen not to include many details of things I have experienced due to privacy. I am open for replies and discussions. I just also need to understand. Why. Am I genuinely just an entitled little brat that cant seem to do anything right. I dont need words of comfort necessarily, I just want honest thoughts and opinions.
I grew up in a very mormon family in an extremely repressive community. At the time I didnt even realize what might have been going on around me, too blindsided by my childish naivety too see the truth. The members in my ward being told they were too sexual, too wrong, too satanic to be a part of the church. The hypocrisy running deep into the crevices of their souls. Now I'm not against religion, i strongly belive religion is amazing when experienced and approached correctly with actual research and thought going into it, however I myself am no longer religious in any form other than my deep commitment to fanfiction. But, the hate that was my childhood was hooded by my rose tinted glasses. I was a fairly normal child, if normal was having panic attacks at every wrong texture, too loud noise, or belief that everything i do might end my life. I distinctly remember chewing carrots and meat for 30 minutes each bite, too afraid to choke, too afraid of death, my fears controlling my every action.
I moved as an early tween, from Utah to Idaho, one life into another. It was during this move i first began to realize how much of a hypocrite I was. It was easy, easy leaving everything, everyone, every memory from my childhood. Too easy. I dont understand why it has been like this, me being so willing, so able to let everyone and everything leave. Perhaps I was use to it, never keeping friends for longer than a year or 2. Regardless, i began my new life, new personality, a fresh start. I made friends with the wrong sort, learning every behavior I needed to fit in from them, unaware of how what I was learning would affect me for years to come. I acted sexual in nature, crude jokes and actions, anything to get a laugh, to "fit in". Unaware that I, the jester, was simply performing in front of the kings court. I didn't truly fit in, not at the church i still continued to go to in hopes it was true, and not at school where I simply humiliated myself. It was during those first years as a teen I began to realize death was an option. Ever the thorough researcher I began to seek out answers to my questions. "Why do I feel like everyone is come to love leaves me?", "Is there life beyond death?", "Why cant i seem to fit in?". And the ultimate question, "Will anyone even care if I die?". At this point my view of my entire world was unraveling before my eyes. I found the CES letter, and its strong evidence parked with my waning belief led me to leave the church, albeit not officially as like I said, im a hypocrite. Unable to tell others I no longer believe, while somewhere in my soul hoping that the beliefs I based my entire life around growing up was somehow, someway true. Then came my identity, I began to become unsure of who I really was. Simply a pile of broken mirrors, reflecting a twisted version of "me" to others, copying their actions and thoughts in order to "fit in". Its exhausting being 20 different people a day, yet unable to truly be yourself with anyone but yourself. Even then, doubting if you struggle do know yourself. I cycled through different labels, trying to find something to tie me down and feel more real but nothing stuck, leaving me once again sure I am just a broken person.
In highschool I reached an all time low. My friends, gone. My aspirations, gone. I was simply a mirror, unable to do anything but reflect other people back at themselves. It was then I begain thoroughly researching the best way to die. It wasnt that I hated myself, it was that I new that everyone hated me. Regardless of how many words of comfort I was given, and like I've said, im a hypocrite. Ill be the first to tell anyone that they are worth living, but somehow im unable to implement this belief with me. I decided a deep cut to the wrist, through the main vein would be my most accessible option. I couldn't hang myself as I have no solid point to hold my weight. I dint have access to a gun. Over the counter medication rarely works. Drowning was not an option as I live near no lakes and my bathtub is not deep enough. Too young for more concrete options, too old to believe truly in my heart rhat this woukd end me. I was found before I had gotten deeper than the first couple layers of skin and tissue, as my xacto blade was my only accesible knife. Somehow my present last messages had sent too early, a misclick leading to my ultimate embarrassment. I was sent to a mental hospital. One week. Thats how long they kept me there. Not long enough to do any real good, but lets be honest, was it ever even about "fixing" me? I have to say im an incredible actor. My daily Masks and mirrors I have grown long accustomed too leading others to believe i was fine. And then I tricked myself, and I really was "fine". Until I wasnt. My grades, falling. My friendships, dwindling. My job, falling behind and disappointing. It was then I was officially diagnosed autistic. Everything made sense, but my feelings of wanting to die didnt leave like my friends did when they found out.
I've come to realize something. Im so fake. Why do I feel suicidal all the time, but I genuinely do feel happy and enjoy experiencing things i love, like shows, food, and fanfiction? Im such a bad suicidal person. My experiences not bad enough to warrant me feeling this way. Im not sad enough, im not crazy enough. Im not bipolar, but I go through waves of intense happiness and love for life before crashing at the slightest indication someone I truly cared for doesnt like me, or something goes wrong, or literally any negative thing that is aimed in my direction. I dont understand. Genuinely. Im a nervous wreck, rambling in attempts to get any coherent thoughts out. My anxiety is through the roof, I overthink everything. Im not diagnosed with ocd but I feel the need to double and triple check everything and if I do something "wrong" I have to do it again and again. Im not anything. Im a shell filled with tiny broken pieces I've chipped off of other people and called my "own". Im an artist painting my perfect life in my mind. I have a rich imagination, ao strong I sometimes dont even know if what I thought was a memory was real or not. And now here in am. Still living at home, ready to quite my job. Newly 18, yet without the freedom to do anything adults could do due to my still restrictive home. I just want to die. I want to end it now while I still have good memories. But I also want to understand.
I dont know if any of this makes sense. I couldn't care less if it does or doesnt. I also have chosen not to include many details of things I have experienced due to privacy. I am open for replies and discussions. I just also need to understand. Why. Am I genuinely just an entitled little brat that cant seem to do anything right. I dont need words of comfort necessarily, I just want honest thoughts and opinions.
