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Campanella

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    Video games, drawing, watching tv, reading, sleeping, the paranormal

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  1. I wasn't intending on coming back, but ta-da. Here I am. Again. I can't bring myself to tell my loved one what I'm feeling. Every day they say that they see me improving and getting better than last year, but I know it's not true. I haven't cut or attempted anything, but my depression males me feel invalid. Nothing I do will matter in the end anyway. I'll keep smiling and laughing even though inside I'm in pain and screaming bloody M***** for everything to stop hurting but I feel like I'd be disappointing everybody if I said it. It feels like my chest is ready to cave right in on itself. Even though I'm doing all I can to supress my emotions, I fell ready to rip at the seams. I had this dream a few days ago. I dreamt that I was running away from my family, they were looking for me, red hot anger and yelling my name. I had a deep fear of being found, so I cut my hair, changed my clothes, and I spoke in a lower voice. And it felt so right. I could never tell my love this dream I had. It would be insensitive. But since I was little I never understood why gender roles existed, why boys and girls weren't allowed to play with each other or wear certain clothes. You could imagine my parents stuffing my room with princesses and dresses, but I wanted robots and pants and playing with the boys like I was one of them. But I'd always be kicked out because I was a girl, my parents would tell me "It's not right." I couldn't understand. My brothers made fun of me for growing up, wearing dresses and skirts, being feminine while my relatives would comment on my body. All these new insults would be thrown at me because I'm a girl, because I couldn't be like one of the boys, I couldn't do anything they did. "She's on her period, she's too emotional, because she's a woman." I didn't want to be born this way. I'd still go on to being made fun of for trying to reclaim femininity like it was some kind of gift I should be accepting. But at the same time, I don't want to be a boy. I don't want to transition or take hormones. I think most of my problems wouldn't exist if I was treated the way I wanted to be growing up. I guess, most of my problems would be seen as small or insulting to others. What do I know; if it were up to me I'd still try to be masculine but in a perfect world I wouldn't be forcing myself into a pigeonhole and make it fit. I'd rather not be any pronouns, not be a boy or girl or nonbinary, or anything. I'm just a dumb kid who doesn't want labels. ...I feel like such an ass.
  2. I have good grades, I have a home, I have a loving partner and I'm currently trying to turn things around. I don't understand. Why do I still feel hopeless?
  3. I've completely relapsed into old habits. Just when I thought that this year would finally be the turn-around for me to get on the path of recovering. I really thought that I was going to be able to make myself feel better and push away the negatives, but I was so much weaker than I thought I was. Each day it feels like a heavier burden to carry. I have no energy whatsoever and no drive. As if relapsing into self-harming wasn't bad enough, I'm getting the suicidal urges again. They're stronger than before. They come when something inconveniences me slightly, when old memories resurface, when I stand near a busy street or a high ledge they come creeping. I don't feel like doing anything about them. There is no point. They'll only keep coming back again and again and torture me over and over. I can't get professional help because my family won't let me. Even if it means that they'll hold me back from getting insurance to cover my medical fees, to them it's something worth doing. They do it because they think I'm overreacting. Because there are people who are suffering more than I am in this world and problems are nothing. Because mental illnesses do not exist, and if they do they only exist in the minds of psychopathic ******ers. If miracles do exist, if there really is some higher being looking down from above on this tiny blue world; please help me. I can't do this alone. Not like this.
  4. Do you have that person in your life that notices things about you that you yourself don't notice? As in, they see your quirks or habits, but you do these things unconsciously and aren't aware of until it's pointed out. My grandma is that person. She sees me lumbering around the house and asks me if I'm in pain. I'm fine in all aspects, but she insists that I'm sick or something is bothering me. My aunt, the last time she visited two years ago, saw me walking by and said the same thing. To her, I shuffle my feet when I walk and hunch over. I thought I was walking normally because my immediate family never told me anything about it. Funny how my grandma sees everything I do and acts faster than anybody else. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to convince my family that I have mental illnesses and how much behavioral therapy could help me. I'd at the very least expect my mother of all people to understand, given that she was there with me the day a psychiatrist came to me and assessed my problems AND that her best friend has BPD. But what do I know, I'm just a dumb teenager with a laptop and too much time.
  5. I'm supposed to be on break. I should be travelling or spending time with friends right now. The 'break' part isn't settling in my mind. I'm getting increasingly fidgety as of late. I'm always looking for something to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. Just something, anything to focus my attention on for a long period of time. I can't stop the harming however. I did it again and started plucking away at my skin until I started ble/eding. Then, when it healed over I picked again and again. I even cut my nails so that I would curb this habit, but I keep doing it subconsciously. I don't even realize 90 percent of the time that I'm scratching or picking until I feel the pain. My thumbs are getting torn up again, my face is starting to look worse for wear, and I hurt myself on accident the other day from pulling off skin. I'm thankful that make-up exists. It's 12:28 right now on a Sunday night. I stopped myself from picking hours earlier but at what cost? I decided to reorganize my entire room and throw things into bags that I didn't want nor needed. I'm still in the process of flipping my abode upside down. Everything is everywhere on the floor and pouring out of my closet like a waterfall. I know that I'm going to get scolded for staying up, but my mind is too restless and my hands just want to keep moving. I won't be getting any sleep tonight.
  6. My head aches from thinking so much. Each second my mind hiccups a new thought into existence is another moment of over-analyzing and unnecessary stress. Impossible scenarios dancing in my head and making my heart beat out of rhythm. Everything is impossible. All of my words and smiles are a farce. I know what I desire and I see it in front of me, but I lack faith and courage. My mind gives me the first possible outcome and I shrink back into a tiny ball of fear and anxiety. How can I preach to preach to others love and acceptance if I can't even get myself to look myself in the mirror or stop my hands from tearing skin off my body? What kind of audacity do I gave to help others when I can't help myself? Why do I try and fix someone else's problems when I can't even fix my own? Even so, I still want them to know that they have futures. Futures full of opportunity and hope. Except for me. There is nothing ahead for me. I can keep going forward, but I will gain nothing in the end. So much has shaped me to be this jaded monstrosity I am today. Factors that were and still are inescapable continue to mold me into something I wish I wasn't. And I hate every single fiber of what I have become.
  7. i'm in complete denial. i don't want to let you go. please, stay. don't go where i can't follow.
  8. I let the stress get to me again. I didn't realize that I had started picking again until I looked in the mirror. I felt ashamed at my blotchy skin. I was going 3 months clean and then, everything just starting happening at once and faster than I could handle it. I had another crisis last month. I felt like such a colossal failure to my family and friends and others that I was ready to jump ship. I never felt such a strong urge to do it in a long time. I was ready, but had it not been for a massive migraine, I would not be alive. I should be thankful for feeling a head-splitting pain. I felt like I was going to die, like my brain was trying to push out of my forehead and keep going until it broke through my skull. Recently I've been careless. I'm sick and taking medicine for my endless coughing, but that's about it. I ate a three week-or-something old cookie without a second thought last night, and I thought to myself, "If it kills me tomorrow, I don't care." I cross the street on the way to my classes, and when a car comes too close to me, I think "Come a little closer and a little faster." I slipped walking down the stairs while walking out of class, and I thought "If only I fell on my neck..." I haven't done anything to myself about it. It's just wishful thinking. Like wishing at 11:11 for a little less pain, a little more joy and for the object of my affections to love me back. It's all coincidence; none of it is going to come true no matter how hard I want. I'm trying to smile and laugh and pretend that the jokes I'm hearing are funny, but it's just not doing the trick anymore. I'm trying to carry on and do the things I need to do, but I have no motivation. I'm trying to look forward to tomorrow, but there's nothing tomorrow that I want to look forward to. God knows I'm trying.
  9. I'm back. A lot of stuff has happened since the start of the year. I started college, which was a daunting task in and of itself. I was unprepared in every sense of the word. The entire first week, I kept getting myself in all sorts of predicaments one after the other. Financial aid hasn't come through, tuition still isn't paid in full, I've already spent 200$ on supplies and books alone. Someone like me, a jobless leech, can barely get by paying for college. One of my classes doesn't require textbooks, but I'm buying materials on an almost daily basis. As much as I regret taking it at this point, I keep reminding myself that if I want to get therapy, I need to have this class to keep a certain college credit amount. That's been my main driving force so far. If I can pass these classes, I can finally get myself treated for this cocktail of illnesses that I have and get myself on a good path. The stress alone has given me one stomach ache after the other. Still, my peers have commended me for taking early morning classes. I chose them because it was the closest thing I had to having a high school schedule. Something I'm very used to. Outside of college, I've had many rough patches dealing with relationships with friends. The person I wrote about here months ago, well, simply put heartbreak has now become a familiar feeling. All this time I spent loving them, kissing the ground the walked on and throwing myself at their feet, was for naught. They weren't the person I worshiped them to be. The day I came to terms with this, I spent the night letting out my emotions in some way shape or form that did not involve harm. It was very hard. I get melancholic thinking about them and what I wish we could have had. Our friendship has been shredded into ribbons now, and I don't expect reconciliation any time soon. Once again, I am left behind by a person I thought I knew. My circle of acquaintances has grown smaller. I am only speaking to two people on a daily basis now. Sometimes I wonder if it's enough. Sometimes I wonder if I'm being needy. I feel that social interaction is key to keeping me sane. Even though my anxiety has worsened greatly, I still try and make some efforts to interact. My eye circles have gotten darker and my skin gets paler by the day, but at least my hair isn't falling out anymore like it used to. Sadly, I started skin picking again. I noticed that when I'm nervous in a crowd, I start to scratch at my face or pluck off skin. I can't stop myself from tearing the skin off my fingers and toes. One of my friends caught on and yelled "Stop hurting yourself!" and all I could say was "I'm sorry." I'm disappointed that I relapsed. I was going a couple months clean until now. Death is still on my mind, but not as much. An hour ago it was in the back of my head, but not anymore.
  10. I sometimes wonder why I still come here. I started using the blogs as a means to track my progress. From May of last year to now, I see I haven't changed much. I stopped picking furiously at my skin. I started to rely on my friends for emotional support. In a selfish way, I am content that they are my audience and mine alone. I'm still depressed. I'm still afraid. I'm still numb. There is not much else to record here now that I have a new group to fall back on. Now that I have hem I don't feel as alone as before. Somehow the intrusive memories have slowed down in terms of recurrence. Instead of coming to my dreams they come when I think of them. Now that I'm going to college my family holds me a little higher. Except for my mother, but that will never change. I had enough hardships last year. This year will be like breeze on steel. I have been hardened by the traumas of the past and I will continue to march. Maybe this will be my last entry. Maybe this will be the last I come here. Maybe I'll come back here in a month and then disappear again. I can't tell the future. To whomever I have hurt with my callousness: I cannot change your opinions on what I have done to you. You came to me with peace and I rejected it. In my childishness I became blinded and bit the hand that offered help. I deeply regret every last bit of it. My cynical mind wounded your gentle heart. I am sorry. I do not know if you will ever read this. I do not know if it will give you closure. I only hope you have peace at mind, whether you find this entry or forget me entirely. May you find peace and happiness wherever you are. Per aspera ad astra.
  11. College is starting up in a few weeks. I registered for two classes. I haven't submit my financial aid forms. I only did it so that my family wouldn't hound me during Christmas. To tell the truth, I just don't want to go. I went to the mall today with my brothers. They went one way, and I went into a store to buy art supplies. Immediately I felt like all eyes were on me. I felt dizzy, from the migraine or nervousness I don't know. I had to lean on one of the shelves to keep my balance. I got to the cashier with my pens and paid. I couldn't make eye contact. My voice was barely audible. I noticed the security guard by the door looking at me. Afterwards I went to one of the aisles to hide. I opened up a book to keep myself occupied. The words were dancing on the page. My hand twisting a tassel on my purse while the other pressing on the pages. When my brothers came to retrieve me, I felt total relief. Feeling forgetful nowadays. I can barely recall moments when talking to others. I forget people too. My friend group had a civil war two months ago and we split. Eventually we made up and cleared misunderstandings. One person did not. Three days ago they cut contact with me. I did nothing to them. Now I can't remember their name. I read up on Complex-PTSD. Pieces are falling into place now. I can't do anything about it. Family won't let me go to behavioral therapy. Insurance papers won't let me. I'm trapped in my mind.
  12. I'm registering for college again. Now I'm in the system, but I haven't signed up for any classes. I'm doing this because I'm being told to. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be doing this. I'd be back in my bed, covers pulled up to my neck with my laptop on my stomach. Like how I've been doing it it for the past year and a half. But I'm hounded by family that I have to, no, NEED to do it. The world will collapse if I take another year off. Apparently. They ask me what my plans are, I say "Animation." They ask me what my backup plan is, I say "Forensics." They ask me what degree I want, I say "AA." They ask me if I plan on staying in the city, I say I'm transferring out to another school further south. I'm saying what they want to hear. I'm doing what they want me to do. I'm doing this because I don't want to hear them ask any more questions, and that I have proof that I'm doing said actions. When I went with my family to go see that Moana movie, we stayed to see the credits. My aunt pointed to the screen and shouted that my name was going to be in that credit roll in the future. I set their expectations too high. I relate to this song that I've been listening to for months on end now. It's called Lost Time Memory. It's part of an online song/story series. This song is about a boy who, after his happy-go-lucky best friend suddenly commits suicide, retreats into his bedroom and drops out of school. He can't fathom why his friend did it and the memory haunts him for days, because he thinks he could have done something to prevent it. He continues to spiral downward until he too ends his life. Well that's one part of it. The song itself is about other things that go on in the story but that specific part hits home. He and I were star students with high grades. After certain traumatic incidents, we both shy away from the world, locking ourselves in our bedrooms and stare at computer screens all day. We're even the same age. I can't say more since I'm too groggy to type, but that's the basic gist of it.
  13. You're too young to have a mental illness Mental illnesses don't exist You don't know how good you have it Committing suicide is against the Bible/You'll go to hell Pills are for addicts "You're so quiet all the time. I'm afraid that you're gonna bring a gun to school and shoot everything up. It's always the quiet ones." THAT WAS SAID TO ME BY A "FRIEND" RIGHT AFTER VIRGINIA TECH HAPPENED. I WAS TEN YEARS OLD.
  14. When I lie in bed at night, I get this reoccurring memory. It's the last week of school. 7th period has just started. We're going around the room sharing our vignettes about our personal lives. I'm next. I read about how I used to have many friends at a Catholic school where my grandma worked. And that Summer, my mother transferred me into another school. I was alone. The children there bullied me constantly. I couldn't control myself, so I started crying. Then the girl next to me starts laughing. She's cackling and running out of the room, along with another person. Then the room gets taller as I'm being surrounded by laughing students. They hunch over me as I shrink smaller and smaller. Their laughs are deafening. The teacher watches in her chair. She looks at me like I'm a caged animal. Then they reach their hands out at me. I usually cry uncontrollably from this. I can't shake this memory from my brain. I wish I could erase parts of my past so that I wouldn't have to suffer reliving them in my nightmares. I still remember that girl's name. I don't know if I should find her and confront her, or take the first moment I can to attack her. It happened so many years ago. She humiliated me in front of everyone. She bullied me for years until she left the state. I wanted to die that night. She made me afraid to go out in public. She gave me anxiety attack after another when I share my feelings. She made me suicidal.
  15. Assuming that my mother doesn't hunt me down if I do escape. I live in California. The cost of living is unfortunately high here. Finding a job is the easier part, keeping it is harder. It's the holidays, so most places are hiring seasonal and part-time. If I can at least get hired at some store, then I'll have money for myself. That being said, my only options are all involved with dealing with customers constantly, which will only get worse the closer we get to the end of the year. Now that I think about this, another issue comes up: my mother. I'm afraid that she'll be taking the money out of my paychecks to pay her bills. She swore up and down that my brothers and I should start paying her bills since we live there, even though we're her children. I'm more than sure that it'll be the first thing she would do, even if I convince her that the money is going towards school.
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