so tuesday 17th was such a difficult day for me. nothing it seemed was going right for me, i just kept bursting into tears and my thoughts kept telling me I was probably better of dead. i brought two packets of paracetamol, wanting to overdose and feel that release but guess what? i didn’t take any! i realised that i was sad and that was okay. i realised i didn’t need that to help me through this dark period. i was strong enough to do it on my own.
four months self-harm free
(& as scary as it sounds, i think I may have broken the cycle and the thought process that came with overdosing.) xxxx
I don’t know why I’m still here. I really shouldn’t be.
Drunk and I really just want to cut myself to shreds. I want to take all of my xanax. I want to smash my face against a brick wall. I don’t want to be. I don’t want to exist. I don’t want to do this anymore.
When I try to think of a reason to keep on living I can’t think of any.
No one needs me. And i’m okay with that. I’m no good anyway.
Feeling so empty I can’t even cry anymore. This bull shit ‘it gets better.’ it doesn’t.
This isn’t working.