It's not worth it

My main concern is that I don't know how to cheer myself up. At all, no matter what it's about. Instead I'm listening to my suicide playlist and smoke cigarettes. I have no idea how to make myself feel better because nothing has ever worked that way. I don't have a single method, not a single one. And oh, I've tried so much, so many different ones over the years. Nothing's ever worked.

Is that sad? I guess it is. I decided to wait through the weekend, cause I don't want to miss the last two days of school. Miss them over sadness? How annoying. But sadness is tearing me apart and I don't know where to start. Or end, for that matter. I ended up in thoughts on the psychiatric ward, that I should try to bring my razor blade somehow, like hide it in my underwear or something. Yeah I'm back to cutting and I don't want to stop. I just don't care about that either.

It's gotten to a point where I can no longer refuse to feel to protect myself, the feelings are there ripping me to pieces and there's nothing I can do about it. I should probably stop video chatting with K and his partner, I mean fuck, it's dependent on my life, but I just can't. I just miss him so so much and I don't know what's tearing me apart more: these hurtful feelings or constantly missing him and what we never had.

Most of all, I hate that I'm shattering for no reason. Nothing's happened, not now nor earlier. I'm just too damn sensitive and too damn much in love to be able to live knowing I never had a chance and once again fell for the same trap.

Is nothing heavier, than the topic of death? The opposite of life, the one thing everyone around me seem to in one way or another freak out about. And I'm just shut off, can hardly even tell the difference between being dead and alive. I'm stuck in between the two, either seems impossible. Neither seems appealing to me, I don't want to live and I don't want to die. Still wishing for a third option, but such one never comes to me.

Anna: Are you crying?
Me: A warrior never cries.

So, just had some kind of dinner in the form of chicken pie. I don't eat much else these days. I'm listening to "Twenty-Three" by MC Lars and am reminded of another time when I was also suicidal. I scared my closest friends, they thought they were gonna lose me. It was back in the end of 2010. Has anything changed since then, anything at all? The song ends but the feeling remains.

How many times in my life have I been suicidal? It's too many to count, far too many to count. Probably hundreds of times from age 4 to now. Or it just never stopped, the feeling of wanting to die that never entirely left me, just attacked me in different forms, for so many different reasons. Mostly it's been love, Anna or Dala, but mostly it's been love. My broken heart not capable of handling what's supposed to be the best feeling in the world.

It's the worst feeling in the world, and you could say I have my reasons to never want to fall in love again. I can't handle it. The feeling is just too fucking huge to even lift, definitely too huge to carry. I shift back to Tokio Hotel's "Don't jump" as I listened to it right after my video chat with K this night. I think someone needs to tell me to not jump, but I'm not sure it would help.

Yeah, I listen to the emo band Tokio Hotel and no fucks are given. I like their songs. Maybe there is a bit of an emo inside me, the broken teenage heart that never had a chance to heal, the cutter and the emotionally unstable person who can only speak of blood and despair. I don't know. My sister always teasingly calls me emo and I'm not sure if I should even bother to defend myself, so I don't. It doesn't effect me anymore, anyone can think what they want and I don't know what my style is called.

It might as well be emo, goth, synth or what else. Probably a mix between all of them, but I don't equal my clothing style with my sadness. There are happy goths (I happen to know a bunch) and there are those that are sad no matter how they dress. I don't anymore, dress to express myself. I only wear what I feel the most comfortable in, mentally and physically. So if people think that black clothes and a chronic sadness equals emo then that's fine with me. I don't care.

I'm still fairly shut off, but every feeling is lingering around the corner. I'm together, don't react much at all. When I just came out from the grocery store to light a cigarette just now, a guy suddenly stood right in front of me. I ripped out my headphones from my ears with a "huh?" and he asked for a cigarette and I gave him one. Then he asked what I listened to and with a despondent voice I told him that right then it was Kent, as "Mannen i den vita hatten" was playing. Then we continued our separate ways and I can't shake the feeling. Of what I don't know, but perhaps something similar to some kind of confusion.

I'm rarely approached by strangers, but if I am they always want cigarettes, and I gladly give, thinking if I one day need to ask strangers of cigarettes myself I won't feel so guilty. Then as I walked closer to my apartment an older guy on a bike waved at me and I can almost swear it's the same guy who yelled profanities at me at the same spot a bunch of weeks ago. I'm not generally scared of the looneys who live in my neighbourhood, but sometimes they do upset me. I feel at home with crazy people, as if I'm one of them, no matter what their diagnoses are.

Like, I feel more at home with a psychopath or a schizophrenic than I do with "normal" people. I'm not sure why, but maybe it's the impulsion, the randomness in their behaviour that makes me feel like home. I could be scared of them and still feel a certain connection. And get the feeling that I'm not crazy enough to truly belong with them, and not sane enough to belong with healthy people. Once again, I'm stuck in between with nowhere to turn.

It might sound silly, but it really does feel like I'm walking this world alone, permanently stuck between real and dream, I never know what is real, can never trust my senses or overpower them. Like everything I do I have to do alone, like I have nowhere I belong, and no place feels like home. Scared of eviction, scared of being left alone by those I love, scared of the remains of my broken heart, scared of losing everything I have and what I've never had.

I do live my life in an unnecessary, consuming fear that sometimes shifts over to crude anxiety. And I don't even know what I'm so scared of. Of life and death and everything beyond. Of myself, mostly. What a danger I can become to myself, I'm never safe in my own hands. Mostly, it's my impulsion that scares me. What I do in times of extremes, whatever they are, and when everything becomes overwhelming. In panic and too much anxiety. Panic. Panic that leads to a breathless desperation and I reach for whatever harmful thing is closest to me. To shut my eyes and cut without looking how deep it gets, or blindly mix cocktails of medication and downing it all within split seconds, to attempt suicide on impulse.

I could even end up killing myself accidentally. And that shit really does scare me. I'm not very good at handling the big emotions. Those written in red and painted with blood. When they drive me over the edge and I can't see. When I'm blinded by my reaction to them and end up taking overdoses left to right or desperately self harm hoping for just about everything to stop. It's like I become this unstoppable force driven to slowly end my own life.

It leads me to even more desperation as nothing has never worked and when I realise that death is the only thing that can work. Cause I just don't think it's worth it. Life isn't worth those big emotions written in red and painted with blood. The emotions so many even seek after, which I try with all of my power and more to escape. And I know, I just know from the bottom of my soul, that I don't want to live if I have to cope like this for the rest of my life.

If I survive this, there's a huge risk that I'll shut off completely. Stop going to school, end most of my friendships including K and never try to bond with humans again, cause they're ruining my life and I don't want to feel anything anymore. I'm already at it with emotional suicide, trying to kill everything inside me medically. I believe it's the only way I can survive, by becoming nothing but a shell, completely shut off from humans. It's not the life that I want, I don't want a life at all anymore. I've had enough.

Enough heartbreak and sadness, it's not worth it. But I plan to survive this weekend, it's just 3 days, and then try to get my ass to school at least one of the last 2 days. Then maybe... I don't know. I'll either kill myself of end up in that psychiatric ward again. Maybe make a faulty 16th attempt and then seek help. I don't know.