Just stuff.

again. just stuff don't need to read. don't suggest you do either.

 A of mine friend wants to die. they try and try to die. they tried to overdose they hate it when they fail. I love it when they cant kill themselves because they are my favorite friend maby not my best but they are my favorite. I've tried to die. had a knife put the tip to my throat laughed and went to shove it through my throat through me. I was stopped. Year later i tried to die again. Went to choke myself. failed. went to drown. failed. cut myself let the blood pool around me wasn't a bad cut. but in my mind all there was was blood all around me. I don't feel the need to get help. because i hate people who try to help. the people who think that a schooling can teach them how to fix someone. those bitches who think that telling you what they think fixes or helps. though for some people it does. some people are good at helping others. not because schooling made them that way but because it helped them understand how to help. they are the ones that are good. but sometimes it feels like they are actually caring about how i feel. i've gone to counseling, therapy. shit like dat what ever it was. they put me on anti depressants. the thing just made me feel worse. cause im not depressed. its weird. im soo fucking numb. verbally and emotionally abused for 8 years. FUCKING abused. for EIGHT fuckin years. no wonder i'm fucking crazy. The voices in my head don't shut up. so i scream at them. only to scream at myself. Hell i'm not even sure what i'm typing anymore. I use to be obsessed with death. use to love killing things. was homicidal for a while there. year 4 of the abuse. my mind decided to fix myself. a bit. didn't help much it made stories. games. people would be dying. i would be the cause. or the other part of my forsaken brain would decide i was the victim. id die. but not after being sliced, shot, choked. or any form of pain was given to me. none of those would be how i died. normally i would bleed to death. hell the only reason i use souless as my name is because i hate myself. i hate my feelings. the cause of so much pain. the cause of my hate. my father was a jackass hes the abuser. ha. my mother got me out. so fucking good. but too late. cant stop those dreams. those dreams still happen. 6 years after i got out. and when i think about my father i shake. i'm doing soo as i type right now. i'm biting my hands. bleeding. bleeding so much. but its fine. my anger issues can be tamed after i finish writing this. after i'm done. which is about now.

- Siellose

ps: not fixing all of the mistakes still angry still sad. but i fixed the 50 or so spelling mistakes that i thought mattered. soo meh.