Well, I Couldnt Even Go 24 Hours...

When i met him, it was like taking a breath of fresh air. I can get used to this...

- (I think hes the one, so i hope i dont mess this up)

So like... 99% of this is true for me except its been a week since we talked last and we've been best friends for over 10 years... im just so done trying with her because I lnow she doesn't really wanna talk to me its probably just cuz she pities me which I used to be fine with but now I actually know she doesn't care its not "all in my head"...

Man don't yall just love crying for and hour straight because your best friend of 3 years hadn't talked to you in 3 days and you convinced yourself that they hate you and are tired of you and you want to end your friendship but then you realise that you don't have the patience to make another best friend so now you're stuck between the choices, whether to end your friendship because lately (during the whole quarantine and before) they have been dry with you, barely responding and have, on multiple occasions, not texted you back in a few days and you were fine with it before because you weren't as close but now they're literally the only friend you have that you trust with completely everything and you've left all your other friends because you wanted to focus on them, or whether to stay with them and endure the pain of having thoughts and being a depressed bitch who spams them with random shit in hopes that they will respond, maybe just check what you send them, but they almost never do, so you sit and cry and try not to die because you don't want to make them sad despite knowing that, if you did die, they most likely won't care that much because they're in a whole different country and it won't affect them nearly at all?

I'm remembering shit I dont want to, and I'm feeling shit I dont want to.

I'm so sorry. You deserve far better than anyone i can be. I cant give you what you want, but i want you to know that i will always love you. I really tried, but when we met, it was a completely different world.

Maybe someday though, years from now, when i get my shit together and im not suicidal, we can try again

What would happen if I finally did it:

They'll take one look at my body and one look at my arms and thighs and say, "this is the reason why"

They'll stop searching there. They'll say my parents were naive and the reason there were hundreds of horizontal lines running down my body was because I stopped trying. They'll assume that I lost sight of my future and what I had going for me.

I'll just end up being nothing more than a statistic and a "life that could have been"

Itll be fine though, because I'll finally be at peace.

Everyone will blame themselves and need everyone else's pity over the fact that they lost me when the truth is they never had me. I've had scars for years and they did nothing. I know some saw them. Some days I would cry out for help, and not for "attention" or whatever the boomers say. No. I slit my wrists so I could get help. They heard my cry, but they decided they knew everything and still left me to bleed.

They dont deserve to be pitied for my death. Not even because they caused it, or that they even could've prevented it, but that they didn't even try... they didnt care enough when I was alive, so why would they care now that I was gone?

Eventually, all will go back to normal. It's TRUE. They'll go back to their lives and barely even remember me as the girl who killed herself. They'll say it was because I was depressed. They'll look at my scars and cuts that never healed right, and think they have the whole story. You don't.

This might be proof someday. This might be what's considered a suicide note, but I'm not going to write a typical note. This might be all they find, if they even dig deep enough.

Most likely, They're gonna take one look at my body and say "this was gonna happen sooner or later" and think that's the end of that. But let me tell you:

You've barely scratched the surface.

No. See, things get so bad sometimes, and those scars are the reason I'm still alive. When I see the blood, dripping down my limbs, it's a reminder that my heart is still beating, and I still have a life to live.

It's not meant to be poetry. It's not meant to come out like a positive thing. As much as they help me to live and cope with the daily events of this life, they are what brought me so close to death so many times before. I suppose what they're gonna say about me is right, but that's only one piece to a very complex puzzle I hope to finish one day.

I hope to live so that one day, my scars can be faded to the point they're barely visible. I want them to be gone, but never forgotten. Because where I came from has everything to do with how I approach the rest of my life.

That is, if I choose to live that long.

Aint it funny how life changes...

I still think we were meant to be, just not forever.

-My midnight thoughts.

Update, I found him

but everything comes with a price...

I found him but I cant have him. I'm to broken right now. I wanna be fixed and have the strength to say "I used to cut" and not "I still cut"

I wanna be with someone who understands my scars. Someone who wont try to change them, but understands why. I need someone whos equally or more fucked up than me.

I went back because "i missed them". What i really went back for was to see if it was the same without me. I just wanted to see if they were the same without me. Not surprisingly, they were better without me. It also made me realize i was also better without them. Its wierd how just one person can change things so much. I love them, and i know they love me, but we were never made for each other. It really sucks, but its unfortunately true.

My sleeve rolled up, but only for a second. I didnt even notice my fresh scars were showing. Suddenly i feel my sleeve being pulled up. Its my "friend". She doesnt know i cut. Only 1 person knows. I just said it was my sisters cat. She didnt buy it. Other people start to join in, asking what really happened. Ive beeen keeping this secret for 2 years, and ill be damned if they find out now.

Eventually, they gave up on asking. That night, i cut a little too deep. A little too far down. My thighs were already covered in blood, so i moved on to my upper arms, so it could be covered with a tshirt. It started rolling up again and the next day, i felt that same terror as someone tried pulling up my sleeve without warning. I couldnt think. I was in a group of about 10 people, and i had a total breakdown. I blacked out, but luckily, my one friend was in that group and told everyone to just leave me alone. Thats why i love her so much. I know she'll always have my back, even though we havent talked about it in a year.