Dear Diary

Entry 25

(TW: self harm, mentioned suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, self depreciation, intrusive thoughts... this is really long, just warning you now.)

Every morning I wake up, wondering if I should even try to salvage the day that already started off badly.

Every day in school I struggle to focus, and wonder if passing my classes is even worth it.

Every tear I shed I wonder if I'm over reacting.

I'm doing it for attention.
Attention whore.
Self absorbed.
Narcissist.

Every breakdown I have, I wonder if this is all that's in store.

Every dream I have, I wonder why I let myself imagine the impossible.

Every time I hold a knife, I wonder what it would feel like to plunge it into my chest.

Every time I take medication, I wonder if anyone would notice if took the whole bottle.

Every slice against my skin I wonder if I should cut just a little deeper, until I'm standing in a pool of my own beautiful crimson.

Every attempt I have made, has failed.

I thought that the third time would be the charm, let's hope it's the fourth.

Every critique to my art, I feel as though I've wasted years of my life for nothing.

Terrible artist.
Average.
Not good enough.
They're better than me.

Every time I hold a rope, I wonder if I should tie it around my neck till I stop breathing... would my fear of suffocation stop me?

Every terrible decision I make, fills me with satisfaction at the knowledge that I'm slowly killing my body.

Every time my father yells, I wonder if I should try to push him over the edge, make him hurt me so I can hurt both inside and out.

It feels better when I don't have to do it myself.

Every day I consider trying to get better, but whenever I try, people stop caring when I have a bad day.

Why should they,  I'm not going to try to off myself because of it?

I'm comfortable with my suffering.

It's not going to get better until I let it. But that's not happening.

People only care when they think that you're a limited time offer.

I'm in pain, but that's what it takes for people to love you.

Who cares if I hate myself, so long as everyone else gives a shit.

They love me most after an attempt.

They care.
They're gentle.
They yell less.
They listen.

I want it so bad... but I'll have to try again for that.

I hurt myself for my mother's affection.
It's what it takes.

The more I hate myself, the more she compensates.

I want her to say that she loves her son, and mean me when she says it.

I wasn't born a boy, but I try my hardest.

I've given up somethings that I love to make it less confusing for her.

She still doesn't see me as her son...

I'm not her daughter.
She won't let me be her son.

I call her mom, but I don't really have one.

After my attempt she called me by gender neutral terms for a while.

I should have known that it wouldn't last forever.

I carve myself apart, and get nothing but a disappointed sigh.

Maybe if I try harder...

Depression is exhausting, especially when you're trying so hard for your mother.

I want to die, but I do it for her.

I've disappointed her enough times that she stopped being surprised when I do something wrong.

She sighs and says she'll do better with the next one...

She's given up on me.

I have more freedom so I might as well have fun with it...

So long as I don't get caught by the law and just by her I'll get nothing but a disappointed sigh... and a promise that my sister will come out better.

I want so much for her to care enough to stop the yelling.

She can't control her husband... he acts like a child... perhaps I'm being unfair.

He's threatened to leave so many times it's gotten to the point where I wish he meant it, and stayed gone.

If he was gone the yelling would stop... and my mother could love me...

I stay awake at night crying.
Begging some higher power for my mother's love.

They never listen.

I long so badly to have her ruffle my hair on her way by.

"I love you son."

She would say with an honest smile... no hidden desire behind it.

Every day I wonder what it would be like for my mother to hug me, without feeling like she wants something out of me.

I'm selfish.
I could get better if I tried.
I'm ungrateful.
Lazy.
Useless.
Attention whore.
Needy.
A terrible child.
I need to just grow up.

Every day I wonder what it would be like to be able to remember my childhood, good and bad.

Would I feel more complete?

I'm immature, because I refuse to grow up.

I disappoint people whenever I open my mouth... I can't help but make a stupid joke.

My dad used to find me funny.

He used to love me... back when I was his little girl.

Back when I thought he knew everything...

I'm just a disappointment to him now.

I hear him mumble it under his breath.

You can see the resentment in his eyes...

He always wanted a son... but won't except me as his.

I just want to be someone's son.

I'm terrified of him... but I know I could get him to hurt me if I really wanted him to.

He said he should kill me once. He should stone me... it's what the Bible says... I'm an abomination unto the lord... and it's my fault that he's gonna burn in hell.

My salvation is his responsibility... so if I burn, so does he.

Every day I wonder what it's like to have a good relationship with your father, to trust that he will always love you, and never hurt you.

Every day I wonder what it's like to have parents who don't see you as a burden, just some financial weight.

I make it worse with my mental health... but I'm not sure what to do...

I just want them to love me...

(This was really long... so uh... if you made it this far... hi👋)