Thank you, I take that to heart. You have an sincere and kind soul.
hi, i dont know you. you're special, you're beautiful. you're worth a lot even if you don't believe it now. you will some day. i love you from my heart to your heart.
Thank you for your honest words I know that was hard. But it helps I am going through a lot right now and everything helps
I appreciate your question. It made me think long and hard and about it. I just stay busy and keep my mind busy so I never have to think about it. So…maybe I’ve never really stood face to face to the problem. I wish you all the luck, I’m sorry you’ve had to experience that. Also, I’m always here if you just want to talk. I don’t get on my tumblr religiously because it can be triggering at times, but I do what I can.
my mom bought this thing for my neck and it’s called “Happy Neck”
Stuff on Sam’s head 😜 please spread this like Herps.
How do you deal with over coming rape and gaining back your sexual Independence and confidence?
I wish I could give you an inspiring story, but honestly, as time passed, I’ve almost forgotten that it’s happened. I’m a person who uses everything as a distraction. I’m always distracting myself somehow someway. I stay busy and try to keep my mind busy. This doesn’t always work, sometimes when I’m feeling really down I think about it, but since I’m already in a depressed mood, I feel as if I deserved it. I have a complex with people only seeing me for my looks, I usually think of myself as an object for others to play with. But these are things that I don’t express to people. I keep it to myself (or tumblr), and as for the public…I fake it til I make it. Perhaps, I’m running away from my problems…but I try and keep it out of sight and out of mind. Maybe one day I will have found so many distractions that I’ll just forget it happened.
But yes…my key is faking it, and thus far, I’ve made it. I refuse to think about it, and if I do I keep it to myself.
While typing this, I tried to be the most real and honest that I could.
It’s time I admit it. I’m suicidal and I’ve been hiding it the best I can. I couldn’t give you a reason, only a feeling that crosses my mind everyday. How I’ve lasted this long…I’m not sure. I don’t think I’d ever do it, but why do I have these daily morbid thoughts followed me for my lifetime?
My first attempt was when I was 5. I don’t remember why, but I do remember lying under the covers in my parents bed. I didn’t have a grasp on what I was doing, I didn’t know, it was just a feeling that I wanted. I thought I could suffocate myself that way. Then, my brother found me and called me to dinner.
The next time that I remember was when I was 8. I stepped outside into the snow completely naked and just laid in it. Perhaps, I thought I could freeze to death. I didn’t even know what death was. My brother yelled at me and asked what I was doing. I told him I wanted to freeze and to leave me there.
My brother ran away some years later. I was 13 and I didn’t understand these intense feelings of sadness. I didn’t know where they came from. I would cry myself to sleep every night hoping that God wouldn’t let me wake up. Months and months later I admitted this to my father while laying in bed. I told him that I didn’t want to wake up, and every time I wake up, I’m disappointed and angry that God made me. My father cried, my mother made me apoligize.
I’ve jumped off the railing from a flight of stairs. I’d imagine what it would be like to just stop swimming. I’d day dream about bowling balls crushing my skull, and knives across my neck.
In high school, a close friend told the school about me. They told my parents and mentioned taking me out of school and putting me into the hospital. My parents refused. This was just regular teenage stuff.
I began cutting. It was close enough. I have this urge to destroy myself. I loved watching the blood bead up on my skin. A friend noticed the cuts on my wrist, so I moved it to my legs. My legs now have beautiful long scars running down them. I’m questioned a lot about them, even by complete strangers walking by. I’ve told all the lies I can about them, until one day someone confided in me that they knew I was lying. They said it was okay and showed me their scars, they said it was nothing to be ashamed of. So I’ve stopped lying…to an extent.
It’s hard to break the urge. Your hands tremble and the back of your neck gets hot. You’re rubbing your skin as if to push the tingling out of them. Even when I thought I was good, it had been a year, it hit me like a brick and came back. I gave in and cut again.
I told my parents how I felt. My dad said I needed to find God. This was just normal young adult stuff.
And here I am today. 23 and in college, living on my own. Not a day has gone by where I don’t think of it. I think of it all the time, all the possibilities and ways. Who would get my stuff, who would take care of my animals. How people would react. It runs in my veins and I can’t get rid of it. I crave it. I crave the pain. I still couldn’t tell you why though. I don’t know why. It just is, it’s always been a part of me. It’s always been a part of my thoughts. It shows up out of no where. Sometimes, I find comfort in its familiarity.
My phone drops on my face while I’m laying down and my lip starts bleeding. Trigger ignited. My fingers and neck burns with desire. I get scolded at work for something I shouldn’t do, “I should kill myself.” The empty pit feeling in my stomach.
My lucid dreaming has gotten intense at times. I can do anything I’ve ever wanted to, and I can feel real emotions. I can feel love, hurt, fear. I started sleeping with my gun on my chest, thinking that…maybe if I dream it, I will do it in my sleep.
This is becoming a problem…