Time Heals All Wounds
1/1.
They’re texting constantly. She’s smiling, he’s calling her dear. Their mutual affection is growing and I’m just sitting here, drowning in self-hatred. It happens.
I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. Can’t she see that he’s mine? I still like him. Can’t he see that she’s supposed to be my best friend? You’re not supposed to do that… right?
Then there’s my actual best friend, the one I tell my deepest feelings to, the one who can always relate. I thought he could help. Understand. He’s too busy being there for her, telling her I’m "up in flames,” announcing “trust issues" in our little triangle. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
I really can’t trust anyone. I am so done with people. Really, that includes me as well. I can’t fit in and no one understands me. I don’t even understand me. So… how could anyone else?
I wouldn’t call myself complex or special. I’m just weird; too weird to be understood. And irrational. I am so irrational. Not normal teenager irrational. I make no sense, whatsoever. And I spend all of my time wanting to die. I won’t cut again, because what does that solve? It makes me more depressed. It shows everyone just how sad I am. It would render useless all of the time I’ve spent convincing everyone that I am okay. No. I want to just… be gone. Not tell anyone except my actual best friend. Because he understands wanting to die. He understands me better than most, even though he only understands me when I’m feeling bitter, irrational, emotionless, or suicidal. And right now, I’m feeling all of those at once.
There are only two reasons that I wouldn’t kill myself today. The first is that I don’t want people to think that it is because my friend and ex-boyfriend like each other. It’s not. That would be stupid. That would mean I really care about them. If I cared about people that much I would already be dead. So, yes, I am upset about that. But I would not let that be a reason for something as final as suicide.
The second reason is that I am going to a funeral today, and that would just be too ironic. My great uncle passed away about ten days ago. That is also not why I am sad, by the way. I didn’t know him. But really, a death on the day of a family funeral? No. That‘s just too much. I want my death to be considered cold, emotionless, and sudden, because that is what death is meant to be, and I respect it. To die when everyone is already so upset isn’t what I wish to do.
So there, that is why I’m alive, writing this. As soon as those things, the teenage drama and the funeral, pass, I am so gone.
Despite how it is sounding, this is not a suicide note. If anyone finds this after I am gone, do not treat it as such. If you’ve read this far, feel free to continue, but read this, then dismiss everything you’ve read as my pointless teenage ramblings. This is unimportant. I am unimportant. While I will be missed by some, I will ultimately be forgotten.
If you are reading this while I am still alive, all the more reason to dismiss this. I’m not dead yet, am I? Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide not to die. I honestly don’t know. I can’t tell the future.
Right now, I want so badly to die. But when the things currently preventing me pass, I may be better. I may not want to die just then. Anything could happen. Who knows?
So, this is me baring my soul. Happens. I’m doing this just for me. To help these bad feelings subside temporarily. So I can actually get something done for once. I don’t think it’s working. Can’t I just be happy? I think I need new friends. I think I need a new life. Maybe I just need a new me.
Until I can die, I’ll focus on change. Maybe that will help.
Optimism could be good. Like admitting that I’m just a junior in high school and this will pass. I have a year and a half left. That is not far away. I mean, it won’t immediately all be okay. I know that. I’m not that naïve. But I won’t constantly be in a building filled with angsty, dramatic teenagers.
I should talk more, maybe. Then I could friends. Because my current ones—some of them—are horrible. So I guess I’ll be outgoing.
I really need to focus on change.
I wrote that journal entry four years ago. So, obviously, my time to die has not yet come. I’ve actually worked on the changes I wrote about there.
I was honestly pretty messed up back then. I was in a bad place. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still in a rather bad place. But the difference is that this time I’m actually trying to get better, which I’ve never done before. I have a therapist now. She helps. After talking to her, I’ve begun to break out of my shell. She suggested I go somewhere to get help for my self-harm addiction. I am going to. After starting to become more outgoing, I’ve made some new friends. They’re really good, supportive. They’ve been there for me, and are supporting me as I get help.
I’m not better yet, but I am recovering.
I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. Can’t she see that he’s mine? I still like him. Can’t he see that she’s supposed to be my best friend? You’re not supposed to do that… right?
Then there’s my actual best friend, the one I tell my deepest feelings to, the one who can always relate. I thought he could help. Understand. He’s too busy being there for her, telling her I’m "up in flames,” announcing “trust issues" in our little triangle. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
I really can’t trust anyone. I am so done with people. Really, that includes me as well. I can’t fit in and no one understands me. I don’t even understand me. So… how could anyone else?
I wouldn’t call myself complex or special. I’m just weird; too weird to be understood. And irrational. I am so irrational. Not normal teenager irrational. I make no sense, whatsoever. And I spend all of my time wanting to die. I won’t cut again, because what does that solve? It makes me more depressed. It shows everyone just how sad I am. It would render useless all of the time I’ve spent convincing everyone that I am okay. No. I want to just… be gone. Not tell anyone except my actual best friend. Because he understands wanting to die. He understands me better than most, even though he only understands me when I’m feeling bitter, irrational, emotionless, or suicidal. And right now, I’m feeling all of those at once.
There are only two reasons that I wouldn’t kill myself today. The first is that I don’t want people to think that it is because my friend and ex-boyfriend like each other. It’s not. That would be stupid. That would mean I really care about them. If I cared about people that much I would already be dead. So, yes, I am upset about that. But I would not let that be a reason for something as final as suicide.
The second reason is that I am going to a funeral today, and that would just be too ironic. My great uncle passed away about ten days ago. That is also not why I am sad, by the way. I didn’t know him. But really, a death on the day of a family funeral? No. That‘s just too much. I want my death to be considered cold, emotionless, and sudden, because that is what death is meant to be, and I respect it. To die when everyone is already so upset isn’t what I wish to do.
So there, that is why I’m alive, writing this. As soon as those things, the teenage drama and the funeral, pass, I am so gone.
Despite how it is sounding, this is not a suicide note. If anyone finds this after I am gone, do not treat it as such. If you’ve read this far, feel free to continue, but read this, then dismiss everything you’ve read as my pointless teenage ramblings. This is unimportant. I am unimportant. While I will be missed by some, I will ultimately be forgotten.
If you are reading this while I am still alive, all the more reason to dismiss this. I’m not dead yet, am I? Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide not to die. I honestly don’t know. I can’t tell the future.
Right now, I want so badly to die. But when the things currently preventing me pass, I may be better. I may not want to die just then. Anything could happen. Who knows?
So, this is me baring my soul. Happens. I’m doing this just for me. To help these bad feelings subside temporarily. So I can actually get something done for once. I don’t think it’s working. Can’t I just be happy? I think I need new friends. I think I need a new life. Maybe I just need a new me.
Until I can die, I’ll focus on change. Maybe that will help.
Optimism could be good. Like admitting that I’m just a junior in high school and this will pass. I have a year and a half left. That is not far away. I mean, it won’t immediately all be okay. I know that. I’m not that naïve. But I won’t constantly be in a building filled with angsty, dramatic teenagers.
I should talk more, maybe. Then I could friends. Because my current ones—some of them—are horrible. So I guess I’ll be outgoing.
I really need to focus on change.
I wrote that journal entry four years ago. So, obviously, my time to die has not yet come. I’ve actually worked on the changes I wrote about there.
I was honestly pretty messed up back then. I was in a bad place. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still in a rather bad place. But the difference is that this time I’m actually trying to get better, which I’ve never done before. I have a therapist now. She helps. After talking to her, I’ve begun to break out of my shell. She suggested I go somewhere to get help for my self-harm addiction. I am going to. After starting to become more outgoing, I’ve made some new friends. They’re really good, supportive. They’ve been there for me, and are supporting me as I get help.
I’m not better yet, but I am recovering.