u/compIetemess

Every time I go to my friend's house, I feel forced to eat.

She has an eating disorder and is very self-concious.

If I say I'm not hungry or am not comfortable eating with people who arent also eating because it just feels so awkward, it's a problem because "she already ate today and if she's the only one who ate then she'll be fat."

So fine. Whatever.

I go grab something small.

Nope.

She starts cooking a full course meal for me everytime.

And I feel obligated to eat it because if I don't she'll starve herself for the rest of the day.

I always end up sick.

Same case when she's hungry and I'm not, I have to go eat something with her anyway or else she just won't.

Sometimes I hate hanging out with her even if I do love her.

Tw: suicide, self-harm, disordered thoughts, gender dysphoria.

I feel so bad. All the time.

It isnt the perception I give off because it isn't what I want people to know me for, but as long as I could remember I've been horrified of vulnerability. I run from it. I avoid it.

As soon as a conversation gets too deep too quickly, I backtrack and make it one big joke.

Even when I hint at being in a depressive episode, I regret it. It feels ignored by my friends anyway, so what's the point? They don't care what I feel, they're too focused on them. And that's fine I guess.

I just wish they can magically understand how truly terrible I am doing right now.

My arm is covered in cuts and scars, I'm having thoughts on restricting my food or just not eating at all, I actually want to kill myself because it feels like the only way out, and I don't ever think I'll be in the body I want. The boy I want to be.

To everyone, I'll always be a girl. That won't change.

They'll know how bad I hurt if I kill myself. Then it's undeniable.

Maybe people will listen harder, look closer, and actually care more about me if I fail.

Maybe I'll get a long hug, get told it's okay and that they love me and support me.

Maybe my dad will stop the abuse.

Maybe he'll change too.

Maybe he'll be more accepting, maybe I could come out to him.

So many maybes.

Because deep down I know it isnt true.

I just want to be held so bad.

Im so tired

It's weird.

I multiswipe, I carve my skin up.

Yet before I cut, I always get scared.

I crave it, but my hands shake a little.

It crave it, yet I dread it.

It's so unbelievably weird and it doesn't go away until the act is halfway through. The hesitation each time before pressing down. I have to take deep breaths to work the nerve off sometimes. Then it's an unmeasureable sense of relief.

I dont get it.

That care.

Families that are supportive and actually love unconditionally.

Hell, I'm envious of my friend's familt because even though they're toxic, it's still obvious they love her and hear her out when she has problems.

She has a mom and a dad.

It hurts so so bad. I want to be cared about like that. I want to have the kind of relationship where I can admit I need help.

I want to be wrapped up in my mom's arms again while I cry. I want to eat her cooking and feel her unconditional adoration. I'd even take her panicking over me scraping a knee right now.

If she were still alive, she probably would be horrified.

About the cuts. About the suicidal thoughts. About how my dad is acting.

Heard from the grapevine she had wanted to divorce him before she got sick with brain cancer and ultimately died when I was 12.

Could she have been free?

I want a dad who cares. Who hugs me close and tells me it'll be alright instead of belittling me. Instead of calling me names. Instead of telling me all the ways he wants to kill us. Instead of the screaming.

To tell me he is so glad I exist instead of having a fit and telling me I'm a useless child and that he wishes he never brought me into this world.

I wish that too.

I really do.

It's cruel. Life is cruel.

I have no one who cares.

No grandmas. No grandpas. No aunts. No uncles.

Just my dad. My abusive dad.

Why does so many people get something I wanted so bad?

I just want to be held and cradled and rocked and adored.

I want to cry.

I want a hug.

I want to be young again.

People like me arent meant for good things. We live sad existences and die even sadder deaths.

Realistically, no situation is impossible to get out of. Statistically, people have been through worse than I have (so much worse) and gotten out of it 10x stronger.

But I think something is wrong with my brain. I don't feel like a human. I feel like some broken discarded robot that can read what it should do to be perceived as a human being, yet still isn't able to do it. Because it isn't a human, so it fundamentally can't preform such natural things.

I don't think I am either.

I try. At least, I think I try. It feels like I try to better myself. I apply for jobs, talk about learning how to drive finally despite being 20, force myself through micro exposures for my social anxiety, keep up with my hygiene, spoil myself occasionally, and think about a future that isn't this.

If I had money, I'd go to therapy too because I know. Something is deeply wrong with me like I said. I have so much trauma I need to work out.

But I dont have money. So it coexists inside me. Always. Even when I'm doing better, it lingers until it sinks it's teeth in.

And it does. Always. My dreams and ambitions are shattered suddenly and down comes the rest and suddenly I'm bad again and I'm marring my skin and I'm unable to get out of bed.

My hair was so matted that I had to buzz it three days ago.

It's never ending. This is never ending. It will never get better for me.

The rich only get richer and the poor poorer and at this point, I have no reason to believe otherwise. That sentiment also works out for those with no way out I guess.

I just want to get worse in my self-harm. Until I'm unrecognizable. I want to cut myself so deep that the pain inside feels real.

Hell, I want to do so much more than that.

I want to stop eating. BED ruins my life, so maybe I should just convince myself to need food is to be human and I'm not human, not in the way everyone else is, so I should just stop eating.

I want to start to look sick.

I want to be cared about and maybe if I look like a marked up corpse, someone will realize I need help.

Or maybe just a hug. Can I at least get a hug?

But it will never happen, will it? Because deep down, even now, I know. I will only get worse and feel worse and BE worse.

I will never be satisfied. And I guess I'll never be happy either.

Because to be happy is to be loved, and I'm not loved.

I really wish I had that hug right now

I'm so sorry, my baby boy

Yet sometimes, late at night, I think about what it'd be like to have someone genuinely know.

To care.

I don't even know if it's a good idea because she has had moments where she just makes me feel like shit one way or another. And she struggles with an eating disorder.

She has said to me if I ever need to vent to her without her ever bringing it up or even without her replying to the message then I can but...I don't think she really know what she's getting into with that.

It's not like I'm venting about my family problems or mental health issues, I'm straight up cutting myself.

She can say she won't acknowledge it, but I just doubt that, you know?

What if she tells people.

She's accidentally spilled personal stuff before to my sister who we're both friends with.

This has just been on my mind lately I guess

Not mention I feel like I have to cut deeper and make hospital-worthy cuts before telling anyone which is so stupid but my brain doesn't stop

But not out of genuine intent. Rather maliciously almost?

Like for example, my dad is a very bad person and sometimes when he's fighting with me, for a split second I think of just throwing it in his face.

Kind of like a "got 'em, look what you've done you bastard." Even if that's not nearly the only reason I do it.

I'm not sure if this a me thing or if I'm just a bad person or something