I'm the joke for something out of my control.

Yet again, I play the punchline.
One of my friends, whom I thought I could trust, was lying to me the entire time.
He lied about his hallucinations, his voices, his cutting. He's just another pothead who thinks it's hilarious to play some sick joke and mess with my trust. They all think it's so goddamn funny.
I have enough anxiety medication to fight off cutting. Barely. I never wanted to relapse. See why I don't trust?

He said I was making this up.
MAKING IT UP.
DOES HE THINK I WANT TO LIVE THIS WAY??
WHO THE HELL WOULD??

Sleeping is hell, being awake is hell. Waking up in the middle of the night, shaking, feeling like I'm being strangled, swallowed by flames. The room doesn't hold still, not for a moment. My mouth is dry and I feel like I'm going to be sick. The only thing louder than my heartbeat in my ears is some far off screaming, but it's not me that's screaming. I'm paralyzed, I'm on fire. It feels like my bones are being ground into dust.
During the day, I talk and smile as much as I can. It's taken a ton of practice in front of mirrors for hours on end trying to look normal. Sometimes I can't hold it back. I snap at people. My finger drums on the desk as I hallucinate. People try to talk to me or touch me. I slap them away. Tugging my hair and grinding my teeth.

WHY WOULD I WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS??

Attention whore, he called me. A bitch. An idiot.
If I want attention, why do I hide my cuts, and my scars? I tell my mother out of guilt because I know it kills her. I don't want to tell the doctors anything. I liked my cutting...it was my OWN medicine..I could trust it...Doctors don't understand the bond....The dependance...They think they do, but they're wrong.
I finally told my doc today. One of them. The one in charge of the meds. She gave me something new. I pray to God it works. I'm sick of all of this.
I want to get better, put this behind me and have a LIFE.
I don't want people to stare at my scars. I want them to look away. I don't want to see and hear things that only I can see and hear.
ATTENTION??
How fake an arguement.

He played with my trust. Tried to make it clear he was like me. He said I'm maing this up, yet he's lying straight to my face??
I hate this.
I hate being the joke.
The trust I have, tampered with.
And all for a good laugh.
"She sees shit that's not there [laughs]Great one, right? She changes moods at the drop of a hat! That's rich!"
Laugh at me for something I can't control.
Why?
Why am I like this?
Why is it funny?
Why?