Why Am I Never Enough For Anyone?

You literally dont get it. I dont give a shit whether I live or die. I dont care how I die. I dont care if i die by corona, or drugs, or by my own hand. I dont give a shit.

What would happen if I finally did it:

They'll take one look at my body and one look at my arms and thighs and say, "this is the reason why"

They'll stop searching there. They'll say my parents were naive and the reason there were hundreds of horizontal lines running down my body was because I stopped trying. They'll assume that I lost sight of my future and what I had going for me.

I'll just end up being nothing more than a statistic and a "life that could have been"

Itll be fine though, because I'll finally be at peace.

Everyone will blame themselves and need everyone else's pity over the fact that they lost me when the truth is they never had me. I've had scars for years and they did nothing. I know some saw them. Some days I would cry out for help, and not for "attention" or whatever the boomers say. No. I slit my wrists so I could get help. They heard my cry, but they decided they knew everything and still left me to bleed.

They dont deserve to be pitied for my death. Not even because they caused it, or that they even could've prevented it, but that they didn't even try... they didnt care enough when I was alive, so why would they care now that I was gone?

Eventually, all will go back to normal. It's TRUE. They'll go back to their lives and barely even remember me as the girl who killed herself. They'll say it was because I was depressed. They'll look at my scars and cuts that never healed right, and think they have the whole story. You don't.

This might be proof someday. This might be what's considered a suicide note, but I'm not going to write a typical note. This might be all they find, if they even dig deep enough.

Most likely, They're gonna take one look at my body and say "this was gonna happen sooner or later" and think that's the end of that. But let me tell you:

You've barely scratched the surface.

No. See, things get so bad sometimes, and those scars are the reason I'm still alive. When I see the blood, dripping down my limbs, it's a reminder that my heart is still beating, and I still have a life to live.

It's not meant to be poetry. It's not meant to come out like a positive thing. As much as they help me to live and cope with the daily events of this life, they are what brought me so close to death so many times before. I suppose what they're gonna say about me is right, but that's only one piece to a very complex puzzle I hope to finish one day.

I hope to live so that one day, my scars can be faded to the point they're barely visible. I want them to be gone, but never forgotten. Because where I came from has everything to do with how I approach the rest of my life.

That is, if I choose to live that long.

I gave him a piece of me i know ill never get back...

This is exactly how I feel, not gonna lie

there’s suicidal as in ‘i want to die’ and there’s the kind of suicidal where your heart skips a beat and if there was a gun in your hand you’d pull the trigger because it only takes being certain, being brave, for a moment, and it can all be over. there’s no real sadness or fear, there is only numb, empty longing for your consciousness to cease to exist. that’s how i feel. i died a long time ago, i’m just looking for a way to help my body catch up

I'm remembering shit I dont want to, and I'm feeling shit I dont want to.

I will always cherish what you have given me, and what i have learned from you, but its time to let go.

Ive become so impulsive lately, im scared of what i might do next.

-i might do something even more permadent than dying my hair, piercing my own ear, or kissing my ex

You know, ive always wanted to talk about what happened, but he kept avoiding it. So, i went on with my life. I found my own twisted version of closure and i got better every day. I moved on, and i knew i would be fine alone. It was like we had never even happened, and i learned to be okay with that. But then my friend joked that i was a heartbreaker and i replied that everyone else breaks my heart. Just normal sarcasm. We didnt mean anything about it. Then he overheard and looked at me. Id never seeen him so sincere. "It was all my fault." Ina ll the time id known him, i have never sene him look so serious. So sorry. Id finally moved on. Id finally gotten over the pain he left me with. I had finally forgiven him. Or maybe i just like to think i did, because here i am once again, my thoughts being consumed with nothing but him

I said it would be fine. That i was okay just being your friend... until you told me that you love her and that you would wait for her. You once said that to me, and now you dont even think about what we once had, because to you, that was nothing. I knew i was just your rebound, but i just wanted to know what it was like. I was in it for the rush, that high you get. But little did i know there would be such a dark fall after. Were good. Weve both moved on. But, still i go back to us holding hands in the movie theatre, telling me you love me. Well, not really. You went back to her a few weeks later. Youre chasing someone who doesnt love you, and im chasing you, who doesnt love me. What made me this messed up that i dont look at the people who love me but only think about the one who doesnt? Because whats not healthy for you always has the best high, and once youve had a taste, youre hooked.