Sometimes I feel like I come down on him too hard. And I probably do. I don’t mean to make him upset, I hate it when he’s upset. But sometimes he makes ME upset, and I just want those issues solved.

I hate that I make him upset sometimes. He is my whole world, even though I’m not his. God, I’d do anything for that boy. I would follow him to the ends of the earth. I would rub his back and make him soup when he’s sick, and cuddle up with him when he’s sad. I would talk with him about every detail of his day and every thought he has in his amazing little head, no matter how silly or sad.

And I feel like all I do is bring him down. He’s going to do amazing things one day, and I hope so much that I will be there to see it. And I know I won’t set him back because of academics or anything, but I feel like I bring him down emotionally. Like he doesn’t want me there to see it.

And it makes me hate myself that much more. I love him, so, so much. So much that it hurts because I feel like he doesn’t feel the same.

I want him to see me go through college and become a forensic anthropologist or a writer or a teacher or a veterinarian. I want him to be there when I graduate and when I get my licenses and when I start a career. I want him there when I move out of my house, and when I get a car, and when I get coffee or go to sleep. I want him here all the time, with me. For the mundane things, for the little things, and for the big things, I just want him here.

I want him to want to read my blog. He doesn’t seem interested, and I’m hoping that will change. It would be weird for him to read all this stuff, and about him, but I’m hoping if he does it would benefit our relationship.

I want to make him smile. I’m trying right this second, but I don’t think anything I do will get a smile out of him. He’s fine, I just wanted to make him extra happy..

I hate myself. I’m so terrible. I can’t even make my boyfriend smile.



Human Urges

The human species is strange, for many a reason. But the most baffling one is how someone can want so badly to cause themselves physical pain.

I mean, think about it. Other species don’t do that. Lions don’t wake up one day and think “I’m going to purposely run into a tree with my head until I bleed. I love bleeding.” The rabbit doesn’t ponder whether or not it should be caught in the jaws of said lions.

But we, we are different. Not all of us, but a few. We wake up and think “I’d just love to take a razor to my skin right about now.” And I think that is bonkers. But it’s who I am.

My natural instinct is to do this to myself; whether it be punching myself, hitting my head into a wall, or taking sharp, shiny metal and trying to push it into my skin far enough to create caves, I want to do this.

When I am in any type of emotional stress, I want- no, I need- to hurt myself. I don’t know why, but I do. Crying makes me feel weak. Crying doesn’t help, not even for a moment.

At least cutting helps, if even for just a moment.

Sometimes, I’m not even stressed, I’m just numb. Sometimes I just see someone else’s scars and think that mine are pathetic, I can’t even make scars right. I can’t even cut enough, or deep enough.

And then I think about how messed up that is. How messed up I am.

Then I want to cut some more. It’s really an endless cycle in my head, and honestly, it gets old. I don’t know how to make it stop. Sometimes I fear the only way to make it stop is to be dead, and fear is a strong word. It’s more like nervousness, because I don’t really think I -or anyone else- would mind me being dead.

This post is so long, and so NOT formal, or normal. I am so sorry. Here I am apologizing to… who? Does anyone even read this? Oh god, I’ve reached a new level of pathetic.



When someone gives up on you, sometimes it’s slow, but it’s always obvious at the end. They stop saying the things that show they care.
For instance, when I say things about my very existence being wrong, he asks why I think that, and says “I’m sure it isn’t.” He would used to tell me I matter, I belong with him.
He doesn’t say he misses me, or he loves me, unless I say it first, and sometimes not even then.
If I send him selfies, he doesn’t praise them like he used to. He never asks me to send them.
He doesn’t show me off anymore. If I want him to post about me, I have to ask, and he seems annoyed.
If I say I’m upset, he doesn’t seem to care. If I’m crying, he doesn’t call and check up on me.
He doesn’t call period.
Talking to me becomes a chore.
If I’m upset about something he did, he deflects the blame and acts like I shouldn’t be upset at all.

I am purely upset because I’ve realized that he doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t need to spend time with me. He doesn’t need to talk to me, or hear my voice. He doesn’t need to see me.

And sometimes I think it’s all in my head, but then he’ll read my message and not answer, or get on and off of facebook to message someone else but not me. And then it’s pretty hard to deny.

I’m losing him. I’m losing me.



It’s like there’s not enough air left in the world for me to breathe. No one cares about me. No one loves me.

No one ever will.

Maybe you’ll say “That’s crazy! Someone must,” but it truly feels like no one does. It sucks being depressed in general, but it’s so much worse when even your own significant other makes you feel insignificant to them. Having paranoia is hell, but when your “friends” ignore you for days or weeks (or forever) without seemingly a reason, it’s even worse.

My mind has become a swamp, if you will, of terrible things. You can try to escape it, but everywhere you go, you sink. Here you sink into the quicksand of the “Depression Drop”, you try to move away and you fall into the murky, dull “Pathetic Pool”. You move further only to find “Anxiety Alley” and “Paranoia Pit”. Finally, you find “Suicide Swim” and you just wade there for a while, wondering.

And then when you think you might see a grassy patch, swamp monsters (a.k.a. “Friendly Fires”) knock you back off.

And then you’re left drowning, alone, wondering when someone will love you. Wondering why no one loves you. Sinking back into the cycle.

Maybe I just need reassurance that I matter.

Or maybe I just don’t.



I feel the need

to curl into my own skin

to recede

into my own being


I feel the need

to cut out those who care

to destroy

any remnants of hope.


I feel the need

to pretend it’s all fine

but deep in my mind

to be free.


I know the truth.


The truth is

if it’s all in your head

they can’t help

they can’t even try.



It Fades

Everything will fade: happiness, pain, love, hatred. Today, for me, what faded most was happiness. What exploded was crushing sadness.

Today was fine and dandy for the most part. Then at one point I went out with some friends. Then I was happy. When I came home, I used a cool new bath bomb, and should have been happy. But it faded quickly.

I have a boyfriend, and I love him with everything I have. He’s one of the only things that keep me going. But sometimes, like tonight, he is also my downfall.

While in the bath, I was trying to text him. He kept telling me to hold on, nicely enough. But he only blew me off because a mutual friend, who is female, was upset. She likes/d him, even when she was in a relationship; she was furious when he talked to other girls. Now she is single, and I feel bad for her, but I don’t like when my boyfriend ignores me to talk on the phone with a freshly single, sad girl who is known to have liked him.

I tried to explain that to him, but he wasn’t getting why I was so upset. And that made it worse.

Then I realized that he was commenting and liking people’s stuff on Facebook (I wasn’t stalking, it shows up on my wall), including on hers, and on a different girl he used to talk to. None on mine.

And then he got upset that I was upset, and said he shouldn’t ignore me because of his own problems. I was unaware he was even having problems recently. So I brought up the fact that he really never tells me anything. A sort of fight ensued. But it’s true, he doesn’t tell me anything. And I don’t mean just his problems, I just mean he doesn’t tell me stuff, like about smoking (I found out a month later from one of his buddies), going to parties (which I found out through a post on Facebook from someone else who was there, as well as his ex), or helping with the play (I found out through messages between him and a friend.)

It’s how he was raised, to just not talk much. And I get it, I guess. But I feel like I should be the exception. I’ve been his girlfriend for 7 months, and we talked for a long time before that. I NEED him to talk to me. I love him, god I love him so much. But… I can’t go on like this.

I cried so hard tonight that I went into some sort of panic attack. Eventually, it faded. But before that, I, on reflex, scratched the hell out of my leg. I wasn’t purposely doing it, it was a reflex. However, I was aware I was doing it. I could have stopped, but I didn’t want to. I now have yet another scrape that feels like my skin was essentially burned off.

I can’t do it like this anymore. I need change. I need HIM to make this better. Because overall, I love him, but it hurts this way.

I need these problems to fade



Paranoia isn’t the typical “he hates me” bullshit, but at the same time, it is. It’s knowing that you sound ridiculous, but not being able to change it. It’s wondering if you made up the whole fucking idea of it in itself. It’s thinking that since you haven’t been officially diagnosed with paranoia that you don’t have the right to claim it.

Paranoia is believing that your friends don’t care about you at all. It’s feeling like you bother them any goddamn time you message or speak to them. It’s imagining what they truly think when you tell them about your problems.

Paranoia is feeling like your boyfriend hates you. It’s wanting him to read this shitty post, but also hoping to god he doesn’t. It’s feeling like he doesn’t want to talk to you, like he can’t stand the quirky way you smile but deny it when he compliments you. It’s knowing that he’d be better off without you and wondering why the hell he’s with you.. and more importantly, dreading when the time will come that he realizes you’re not at all what he’s looking for.

Paranoia is hating writing about paranoia. It’s imagining what any readers will think. They’ll think that this is pathetic, or chalk-full of lies, or poorly written. Or maybe they’ll just think that this isn’t even worth their goddamn time.


Define: friend

Friend: a person who claims to be there for you. One who makes you believe that they care. These people are liars. They get mad if you become upset, and furious if it’s because of them. They deny any blame. You are obviously over-reacting. They also use you. Some for terrible things like drugs or sex, but others for seemingly nothing, like seeing other friends of yours or a ride or to cure their boredom. They do NOT care. Do NOT let them fool you. No one cares.

Or at least that’s my experience.


Six Months Self-Harm Free

I’m just passed six months

Six months that you would think would be great

Freeing, joyous, awe-filled

But you’d be very wrong.


These past six months

Have been so painful

I miss it

The blood, the pain, the rush, the secrecy

And but, of course, the scars.


I want it back.

I want it all back.