I stayed in the darkness with you.

I don't miss people. After years of disappointment and loneliness, I learnt to detach myself from people when they left. There's a few people I occasionally miss talking with. But in general, I don't tend to miss anyone.

But recently, it's become apparent that this isn't the case anymore. It seems there are two people I have taken to missing. One of them, I have spoken of before. His friendship has effectively saved my life. And I miss him when I don't seem him for a long period of time. I miss the sound of his voice because, somehow, it's soothing. Even when he is testing my patience.

And the other I haven't known long. He's lovely, handsome and funny. I slept with him, and I felt more comfortable just knowing him for hours than I felt with my ex-boyfriend for the entire year we dated. And I miss him. Because he makes me feel happy.

But that's it. Just them two.

I don't know why. I think this is why my mother says I'm emotionally stunted.

This is killing me.

I don't think I've ever had the need to cut as much before.
I can't do it and it's making me need to do it all the more.

This isn't going to work.

I can tell.
I want it to, but I can tell it won't.
People won't let it. They'll make their comments and they'll make us think and it'll drive us apart.

Because that's what always happens.

People always have their say, and people always get their own way. And in the end, I'm left on my own.

An ounce of peace is all I want.

Today isn't a good day.
My exams have started. I had one yesterday, which went okay. But the day as a whole was a stressful, pointless day. Buses not arriving, buses being late, being forced to look after my sister and dogs whilst not being able to relax, while my parents go out and have fun.

And today, it's just. I don't know. I woke up feeling very insecure and angry and upset. For no reason whatsoever. The need to cut is so strong at the minute. So instead, I dragged my fist along the wall and took the skin off my knuckles. That's not much better than cutting and it's still self-harm so really, I'm not doing any better. I haven't relapsed because I never stopped.
And I'm just generally feeling miserable. I have no motivation to revise even though I have three exams next week to revise for. I need to eat but I don't want to eat and we don't have anything in anyway.

And on a day that my mother and I actually get along, we decided we'd go out for lunch today. You know, to bond and shit. Except she's so wrapped up in her own egotistical self that she forgot I exist and has ignored me most of the day.

I just want to scream and bash my head against a wall.

The future.

I'm destined to be alone.
I genuinely think I am.

I'm a paranoid, anti-social, self-loathing obsessive compulsive self-harmer with severe trust issues who hates physical contact and intimacy. I dislike people in general, I hate everything about myself and I tend to refuse to confront my feelings about someone because I know I'm not good enough for them.

If I don't want to die alone, I need to find someone who can deal with a girlfriend being all of these things. And I also have to trust them enough to actually get close to me. As well as feel something more for them than friendship.

It's just not going to happen.

Stuck in reverse..

I'm not having a great time.
I'm just miserable.
The few plans I've made for the summer had kept me going but now, even that isn't enough.

I have exams coming up. I haven't done enough revision because I can't concentrate on it. So as a result, I keep getting waves of anxiety-induced nausea and I keep having panics. I want to cut myself so bad but I don't want to add to my scars. So instead I sat in my room for two hours tearing the skin off my lips until they bled.

I can't do it. I'm going to amount to nothing and I'm too stupid and pathetic to change it.

Why am I even trying?

Sometimes it feels like there's only one person in the world who actually remembers I exist. Who doesn't get so caught up in everyone else that I slip passed them and get forgotten.

It can be a simple question on a social networking site, so trying to organise a social event or join one. I seem to go unnoticed. And it's getting painful.

I honestly think that if it wasn't for this one person, I would have killed myself by now.

I made it through another day..

I've left college. I officially finished yesterday. Once my exams are done, I will be out of full-time education and ready to go off into the big wide world.
My last day was pretty pathetic. No big send-off. No emotional goodbye. It was every year 13 sat in a hall, listening to a priest trying to convince us to join a church for an hour. And then we ate horrible free food that the useless canteen staff made, and we went to the pub.
I had fun, kind of. My friends made the boring assembly much more entertaining. And going to the pub was fun. Reminiscing, laughing, joking, insulting each other, and talking about the weird men sat near us. But I didn't feel happy. I didn't feel carefree. Part of me didn't want to go to the pub. I don't know why - I just didn't look forward to it.
I wasn't sad. I just felt.. drained.

To me, what was apparently an important day in my life was just another day I'd just about managed to get through.

It's okay not to be okay

The other day I cracked.
I got home from college, and at the first sight of my revision notes, I broke. What little sanity and stability I had crumbled and I cried. For five hours. I stopped around 11 o'clock at night for ten minutes or so, and then it came back. The self-loathing, the regret, the guilt.
I curled up into a ball, hiding under my duvet, and sobbed quietly to myself for another few hours. All the while, my mind was riddled with suicidal thoughts. I had the blade. When I stopped sobbing long enough to sit up, I held the blade to my wrist and I damn near did it.
I don't know what stopped me. Maybe it's because I've actually got friends now. But I still wonder if they'd miss me if I did do it.
I forced myself to put the blade away and after that, I started crying again. I cried well into the early hours of the morning and only stopped when I finally fell asleep for a couple of hours.

But the episode messed me up that night. The lack of sleep left me irritable and exhausted the next day. I took up my mother's offer of visiting my brother instead of going to college - I couldn't have coped with college.

This is becoming more frequent.

I'm worried that someday, I'm going to do it.

I just hope my friends and family would forgive me if I did.

"You're inventing your own misery."

I'm sorry, what?
Why do people believe that telling someone to "stop being miserable and just be happy" will make things any better? What the fuck?
Right now, I'm battling through my revision and thinking how utterly useless it is since I'm a useless, worthless idiot who can't do anything right and so I will inevitably fail and revision is therefore a waste of time. I think like that because my thought process is nothing but self-loathing, regret and guilt.
Oh, of course.
My suicidal, self-hating thoughts will just go away if I 'stop being miserable'.
Please, do tell me.
How the fuck do I stop being miserable?
I don't want to be miserable. This isn't a goddamn fucking choice. I would give anything to be happy, but it's not as easy as that. I spend most of my time either at college or doing college work, and it's draining. I don't have time to go out and socialise and try and cheer myself up, because all the things I have to do are in the back of my mind.
And I can't just not worry, since my exams are basically deciding my future. If I fail, I'm fucked. Done. My uni place is gone and I've fucked up royally.

But of course, I'll just be  happy. That will make everything go away.

Fucking idiots. Don't talk shit about things you don't understand.

I hate myself.

I really do.
I hate being second best all the time.
I hate that I find a skill I'm relatively good at, and then someone else comes along and completely overshadows me and then I'm back to being useless again.
I hate that I can't get the motivation to do anything productive because I know there's no point since I'm going to fail anyway.

I hate myself so much.

You are the first thing I believed in.

I wish I could say I was going to amount to something. I wish I could say that I had some kind of talent or skill that will take me far.
We all have those friends that you just know are going to be successful. They'll be a musician, they'll be a lawyer, an actor, a photographer, a painter, a teacher, a model, a designer, a sportsman, a director, a businessperson. They'll do well.
I have plenty of those friends. I can see them going places, doing things.
But me?
I can't see a future for myself.
It's not just my sheer lack of skills. I mean, I'm hopeless at everything. Writing is my main talent and even that is shoddy. Photography a close second and I've only taken a couple of photographs in four years that I'm proud of.
I just can't do it. I can't handle the pressure. My self-loathing and anxiety won't let me get anywhere. And because I'm going nowhere, I hate myself more and more.

I just wish I could be good at something.

A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody.

I'm having moments again.
Those times when I have flashes of .. nothing. Emptiness. Nothingness. As though none of this is real, and in reality there is nothing but darkness.
It lasts just a moment. A split second. Barely there, but long enough to make my heart pound.
I went a few weeks without it but it's happening again.

I've been lonely this evening, and most of today. I got blanked or interrupted by most of my friends and family throughout the day. The only full conversation I've had today was with a friend on the bus this afternoon. We were sat at the back, in the corner, talking mindless chatter. It was all unimportant, irrelevant, but lovely. And we weren't interrupted.
I come home, and as usual I don't really have much conversation. We have tea, I listen to my mother moan about my sister and her friend making noise. I go upstairs, I stare at the computer screen. And then later this evening, I make an attempt to talk to my mother about my favourite book, Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. I began to read out quotes. Partly to feed my own desperate desire to read it again, and partly to make suggestions for a family friend (he's currently doing his GCSEs and Of Mice and Men is on the curriculum.)
My mother blatantly interrupted me and ignored me.
I tell her about the terrible dreams I've been having. I can't remember what happens in them, but I wake up sweating with my heart pounding, shaking all over and feeling so ill I want to throw up. The reaction lasts about an hour, although I still find myself extremely anxious for most of the day.
She says, "it's just a dream" and walks away.

Moving away is sounding incredibly appealing right now.

To feel useful

That must be so wonderful.
To have some kind of talent, some skill, some use.
Some people can dance, others can sing, or paint, or do maths, or build things, or inspire people. Create pieces of art that will still change lives in years to come.

And then there's me. I play bass, although I'm pretty much hopeless. I do photography, but I'm no good. I write, but it goes pretty much unnoticed which I presume means I'm no good at that either. I'm academically an idiot, I have a long list of emotional problems, I spent my childhood alone because no matter what I did nobody liked me and I can't keep a romantic relationship going for longer than a week before it starts to become miserable.

I don't know. Sometimes I just feel like I was put on this earth to be laughed at. I have no real purpose. I'm just in everyone's way.
My brother got straight As throughout school and is at university. He's got his own place, fallen in love, found a degree he loves and is happy.
My friends, I know, are going to go on to become brilliant. Whether they're brilliant within a small circle of people or are known world-wide for their talents. They're going to be somebody.
And I'm going to be here, in this pit of despair. Alone, working a dead-end job because I'm not good enough to do anything else.

I'm tired.

I need you so much closer.

I'm just lonely, I guess.

It's you, it's all for you.

What I wouldn't give to feel some kind of emotion towards people. Romantic, intimate emotion.

I want to be able to lie with somebody, cuddle them, just be with them, and be completely comfortable with that. To not freak out or flinch away when they do something as simple as lightly tap my arm. I want to get that buzz of excitement and happiness at just hearing their name. I want to smile like an idiot until my cheeks when I think about them. I want butterflies at the sight of them. I want to sigh contently and lose myself in their eyes. I want to smile while kissing them. I want to fall asleep in their arms and not care about the physical contact or the intimacy. I want nights of passion. I want to play video games with them, eat takeaways and lounge about in our underwear and scruffs. I want to wake them up with a cup of tea and I want to paint with them. I want to lie in an open field with them and count the stars. I want to cry with them, laugh with them. I want to have an argument so explosive that for a moment, I'm tempted to walk away. But then they'll pull me into them and kiss me, and I'll remember everything I love about them.

But more than anything, I just want to feel wanted. I don't want somebody who would rather binge drink and do drugs instead of chilling with me. I don't want someone who forces me to do those things, or guilt-trip me for not wanting to have sex.

Is it so much to ask for someone who won't make me hate myself more than I already do?

You're just somebody I used to know.

I keep hearing songs that are so relevant to my relationship problems that it physically hurts to listen. I listen to the lyrics and find myself reminiscing, replaying arguments and bad moments in my head and wishing I'd done things differently. Wishing I'd confronted him before he left.

I have no way of contacting him. I don't know his new address, nor his phone number, and I can't contact him through any social networking sites. The only option I have is to do it through a friend of his, but that would involve this friend hearing very personal things about both me and him. I guess he would deserve it - he was happy for everyone to know my secrets. But I'm not like him. Our issues are between us, and no one else.

I just feel like I can't shake off this anger, this heartache and this sadness until I've confronted this, and I have no way of doing it.
I just don't know what to do.

Thinking of you.

Yes, you. The one who broke through my barriers. The one who earnt my trust enough to physically touch me without me panicking. You who took me to new places, who gave me new experiences, who gave me a new lease of life.

You who lied to me, lied about me, betrayed me, and broke my heart.

When our year-long relationship ended, permanently, I was devastated. As much as I knew it was the right thing to do, and as relieved as I felt, I was still devastated. I'd lost you, after everything. We hadn't made it through this new wave of lies. 

But after I got through that period of sadness, I became angry. Unbelievably, uncontrollably angry. I hated you so, so much. Your name made me shake with anger and I wanted nothing more than to scream and swear at you. But I got over that. I remembered our good times, and why we had to end it. 

I missed you, but it was okay. Because there was still the chance. I didn't want to take it, but we still had the choice to get back together. But then you left. You were sent to a different country, against your own free will. Our chance was snatched from us.
I was in pieces. I didn't know how to handle it, and every time I tried to mention it to somebody, I broke down crying. And you didn't even say goodbye. After everything, you just left without a word. The slut you slept with the day after we broke up got a farewell, but not me.
My mother suggested that you couldn't say goodbye. That it hurt too much to do so. It provided me with a little bit of comfort, I guess. But we both know that's not true, don't we? We both know you didn't say goodbye because you're a cruel, cold-hearted person.
I started to feel better about the whole thing, until I heard the things you'd been saying about me. The horrible, cruel, painful words. I'd been so good to you, yet I'd somehow become public enemy number one within your friendship group.
It turns out, when you explained to them why we broke up, you conveniently forgot all of the times you cheated, you lied and you betrayed my trust.

I believed I could trust you. My self-harm, my depression, my anxiety issues, my intimacy issues, my fear of physical contact. I trusted you to keep me safe, and to help me get through these. But you didn't care about those things. Which is why you laughed about self-harm, you ridiculed me for it. And you painted me as some frigid, insane bitch.

But what hurts more than anything is that I actually thought you loved me. Well, now I know you never did. Because you don't know the meaning of the word.
I won't forgive you again. You've had too many chances.

First step: Admitting you have a problem.

I've struggled with various forms of self-harm for seven years. I should have, if I had any shred of intelligence, realised I had a serious problem long ago. However, this hasn't been the case.

Sunday 1st April 2012. I was sat on my bed, crying hysterically and scraping my knuckles along the wall until they bled. It didn't help much - it didn't have the same effect as cutting. But it was good enough. I didn't have access to any sharp object, and it was killing me. I sat there, gasping for air and pulling at my hair, repeating "I need it, I need it, I need it, I need it" over and over again.

That was less than a week ago, and it's only now that I realise I'm well and truly addicted to it.

New kid on the block.

Hello.
I'm new to this, and if I'm honest I have no idea what I am doing.
But nevertheless, I can see myself using this often.

I am 18 years old, I write in my spare time and I enjoy watching psychological thrillers or horrors. (Donnie Darko being my favourite).

I apologise in advance, as I know many of the things I post on here will not be happy.