I injured yesterday. No one knows.
I was doing so well and then I couldn’t breathe or think and then it was like I was waking up and I had done it.
I can’t believe I failed again. I’m not going to tell anyone because like with the recent posts, no one cares.
I broke down last week and saw a counselor. I went home feeling slightly more rational and told my b/f what happened, that I was battling with finding a purpose to keep going.
He was hurt and didn’t understand why his presence in my life wasn’t enough. I realize he doesn’t understand but that hurt so much. And I couldn’t appropriately explain it all well enough to make him feel any better, and only ended up feeling worse.
Yesterday was when I lost it. I sat there thinking a million things at once. And thinking about how no matter what, none of the people in my life will ever understand, let alone care.
I have always kept people away from my heart but I am trying to be more human and I’m failing because it’s so painful and because the transition feels impossible without support.
And people all think the same: She’s messed up. Don’t care, run away. Only messed up people have thoughts like that.
So the responsibility to mend is on me. And I am failing. Miserably.
I realize I should matter, and that a few other people matter too. What does it do to them to know I hurt myself or that I am staving off a will to stop existing?