Sorry

I’m so sorry for everything. If you don’t want to read all of this, I’ll make a shortened version at the end of this.

I’m sorry for scaring anyone who might have seen my last post. Here’s my story and what’s been happening. TW for disordered eating, suicide, and SH

I started this account to vent. Not to make edgy angsty posts, but that’s what it sort of evolved into. I wanted to tell a story on this account- my story. I split the main story into parts, and some side posts. The entire thing derailed along with my mental state.

The thing about summer break is it’s only fun if you have people to spend it with. If you’re like me- a loser who can’t make friends for the life of them, it’s more like isolation. Staying in your room all day sounds fun until your thoughts start sounding less like your thoughts and more like hardly audible screams of whatever’s going on up there.

My summer started okay. I kept myself busy- cleaning, reading, and sleeping. But I slowly started to realize I didn’t have any motivation to clean. And you can only read so much before it gets old and you get sick of it. Or maybe that’s just me.

Before I knew it, my daily routine was sleep, eat, watch tiktok, and sleep some more. I wasn’t happy. It got to a point where I just wouldn’t do anything all day. Just sitting in bed, too restful to sleep, but too unmotivated to do anything productive. Watching my room get messier and messier killed me. I hated doing nothing, and I convinced myself that I was just lazy. But I wouldn’t fix it, I’d just dwell on self-hatred and cry until it didn’t hurt anymore. Turns out, doing this too much makes it harder to feel.. anything, really.

I didn’t feel anything. But there was one person. One person. They’re my friend for almost two years. My only friend. I couldn’t see them as anything but someone I needed. Because who was I without them? Who am I in general? They were only person who puts up with me. Because they don’t have anyone either. Well, they didn’t. They’re actually okay at keeping friendships.

Before I knew it, they were spending more time with online friends they’d just met rather than me. I don’t mind at all. I don’t think I should be the only person that they should hang out with, but now I’m alone.

I was empty again. Isolated. But I decided if I couldn’t stop it, why try and avoid it? I stopped eating. Well, it was more like, skip eating a day, overeat the next, inconsistent eating patterns. I lost and gained weight daily, and I fucking hated it.

I wasn’t in pain. Hell, I wish I was. Instead I was subjected to the worst possible outcome, in my opinion,: Total Indifference. I couldn’t be bothered to do anything- to feel anything.

About three weeks ago, I relapsed in SH. I started small, scratching until I bled, but I’d stop before it got bad. I took a break once I realized that it just made me sad. I went right back to it when I realized I’d rather be sad than nothing. I felt guilty, scared, and so, so fucking sad. And I capitalized on those feelings. I ended up graduating from scratching up my arms into some more extreme measures on my legs since they were easier to hide. My mother is used to me wearing pants all the time, not hoodies,

I remember when I tried to reach out. I didn’t like me like this. I wanted to get better for a second. I wanted to heal. I messaged my friend asking to vent. They said yes. And I told them. I didn’t tell them everything, but I opened up a bit about my SH problem.

How did they react? They treated me not like someone who needed help, but more of dirt on the sidewalk. They told me my problems weren’t a huge deal. They told me my issues weren’t valid. They told me that I wasn’t valid. This was just a faze, just a fit of teenage angst,

and I fucking believed them.

They were my friend, and I fucking believed them. But one more thing was engraved into my brain: I don’t need anyone, or myself. Because I told myself I needed help (I did) I told myself I was struggling (I was) But I couldn’t be! Because my only friend told me I wasn’t. It didn’t make sense. And I started to question things.

It got worse. That’s when I decided to make this account. At the height of realizing that my friend isn’t as good of a person as I thought they were, and realizing how miserable I really was.

I attempted suicide 6 days ago right after my last post was made. Well, I almost did. I ended up talking myself out of it. I called my mother, and the next day I was moved to a mental hospital.

I’m feeling so much better now. I’m still in touch with the friend, but I don’t know what to think. They vented today about how they’re “Too nice” and they “Fall for manipulation” …..right.

I’m excited for school. Because when I get into that hellhole, the first thing I’m doing is finding new friends.

If you read this all, thank you

Shorter version:
- Started summer with only one friend
- Only friend started to distance themselves
- Summer vacation became Summer isolation
- Developed depression
- Relapsed in SH
- Friend turned out to be a bad person
- Almost attempted suicide twice
- Reached out for help
- Still healing

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