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Jul. 21st, 2014 11:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dramapunkI am having fewer and fewer good days. I hate everything about my body that I see in the mirror today, and yesterday as well.
Yesterday my sister-in-law who used to love me until social media drama showed up and has treated me like I am not even here.
I keep counting out what I hope is enough pills to kill myself... but am not brave enough to take them.
I am tired, so tired of not having any silver lining any ray of hope, so tried of filling out job applications, so tired of hanging on. Because what's the point. I haven't left the house past the drive way in a few months, and I haven't gone past the shopping center in longer then that.
I am aware I have online friends that care, but I haven't had positive human contact since around October. I have no real life friends anymore.
I don't have a real life, and I am not intelligent enough, talented enough or worth enough for anything to ever change for me. I mean 2000 + rejections mean something.
It's getting to the point where I don't even know why I keep pushing why I keep trying. I have nightmares every night, I wake up crying, go to sleep crying. I am not strong enough to make it, I don't know how much longer I can last sleeping in a hallway in a house filled with people who hate me.
I don't do anything I love anymore, I don't write short stories, because what's the point no one will read them, no one will like them. I don't read comics anymore because that's a privilege for people with money. I don't go to the cinema anymore because that's a privilege for people with money. I don't talk to people about comics anymore because it just makes me sad, and I am almost a year behind. I don't write scripts anymore because they'll never get made. I don't even day dream anymore because it just makes me sad.
I am even giving up on my store, because my art is shitty, and so is my photography, it's not selling and what is selling is all being bought by the same person to placate me into thinking I am worth something that I am good at something when I am not. I am a worthless piece of white trash and it's never going to get better. Not for me anyway.
I hate my body, I hate my life, I have no one outside the digital world to reach out too, my mental illness burned all those bridges. I have had three suicide attempts since I moved out here and I don't know why they keep failing I took like 40 or 50 benydril the last time and I nearly passed out in the tub but then I started throwing up all over my self and was sick for days. I don't even know why I am writing about this. Hardly anyone reads this anymore.
I don't have anything to hang on too, but if you donated to the moving fund, I set up a safety net should something happen to me so your money can be refunded. I haven't touched any of it because well, because it's for moving not living on while I am stuck in this hell hole.
I have almost 1,500 dollars not enough to even get me out of the house and into an apartment. I know where I want to be, I know I will never get there. That I will always be fat ugly and scarred, useless and talentless.
If I was worth anything I would have found something by now. but I haven't I have been looking for almost three years and I just want death to come. My life has never been good. I was kidding myself thinking I could every be one of the pretty and happy people.
I am sorry to the people online who care about me, that I have fallen this far, but things just keep getting worse. 80% of my belongings are packed because I am not allowed to unpack. I get yelled at for crying, get laughed at when I asked my dad for help moving someplace where I have a better chance of getting freelance work. But they'll spend 2,500 on my druggie older brother for christmas.
I was tricked into moving out here, but it's my fault for believing anything would ever be good for me. That would ever find happiness, me a fat talentless cow. Who am I kidding if I died the world would be better off. Because I have nothing to add to it, nothing good to contribute.
I am trying to hold on, I just don't know why I am bothering anymore. I know it's not going to get better, I know I am never getting into grad school I know I am never getting a job. I am a useless unlovable piece of shit. I have tried the crisis lines and they don't help, they just regurgitate the same script over and over. I have no way right now to get real professional help.
I have tried everything, and nothing is getting better. I am giving myself until my birthday for it to get better then I am shutting down everything. The gofundme, the store, my fiction accounts, this blog, my face book, and any connection I have with the people outside this house. I just don't see the point anymore. It's not going to change.
Yesterday my sister-in-law who used to love me until social media drama showed up and has treated me like I am not even here.
I keep counting out what I hope is enough pills to kill myself... but am not brave enough to take them.
I am tired, so tired of not having any silver lining any ray of hope, so tried of filling out job applications, so tired of hanging on. Because what's the point. I haven't left the house past the drive way in a few months, and I haven't gone past the shopping center in longer then that.
I am aware I have online friends that care, but I haven't had positive human contact since around October. I have no real life friends anymore.
I don't have a real life, and I am not intelligent enough, talented enough or worth enough for anything to ever change for me. I mean 2000 + rejections mean something.
It's getting to the point where I don't even know why I keep pushing why I keep trying. I have nightmares every night, I wake up crying, go to sleep crying. I am not strong enough to make it, I don't know how much longer I can last sleeping in a hallway in a house filled with people who hate me.
I don't do anything I love anymore, I don't write short stories, because what's the point no one will read them, no one will like them. I don't read comics anymore because that's a privilege for people with money. I don't go to the cinema anymore because that's a privilege for people with money. I don't talk to people about comics anymore because it just makes me sad, and I am almost a year behind. I don't write scripts anymore because they'll never get made. I don't even day dream anymore because it just makes me sad.
I am even giving up on my store, because my art is shitty, and so is my photography, it's not selling and what is selling is all being bought by the same person to placate me into thinking I am worth something that I am good at something when I am not. I am a worthless piece of white trash and it's never going to get better. Not for me anyway.
I hate my body, I hate my life, I have no one outside the digital world to reach out too, my mental illness burned all those bridges. I have had three suicide attempts since I moved out here and I don't know why they keep failing I took like 40 or 50 benydril the last time and I nearly passed out in the tub but then I started throwing up all over my self and was sick for days. I don't even know why I am writing about this. Hardly anyone reads this anymore.
I don't have anything to hang on too, but if you donated to the moving fund, I set up a safety net should something happen to me so your money can be refunded. I haven't touched any of it because well, because it's for moving not living on while I am stuck in this hell hole.
I have almost 1,500 dollars not enough to even get me out of the house and into an apartment. I know where I want to be, I know I will never get there. That I will always be fat ugly and scarred, useless and talentless.
If I was worth anything I would have found something by now. but I haven't I have been looking for almost three years and I just want death to come. My life has never been good. I was kidding myself thinking I could every be one of the pretty and happy people.
I am sorry to the people online who care about me, that I have fallen this far, but things just keep getting worse. 80% of my belongings are packed because I am not allowed to unpack. I get yelled at for crying, get laughed at when I asked my dad for help moving someplace where I have a better chance of getting freelance work. But they'll spend 2,500 on my druggie older brother for christmas.
I was tricked into moving out here, but it's my fault for believing anything would ever be good for me. That would ever find happiness, me a fat talentless cow. Who am I kidding if I died the world would be better off. Because I have nothing to add to it, nothing good to contribute.
I am trying to hold on, I just don't know why I am bothering anymore. I know it's not going to get better, I know I am never getting into grad school I know I am never getting a job. I am a useless unlovable piece of shit. I have tried the crisis lines and they don't help, they just regurgitate the same script over and over. I have no way right now to get real professional help.
I have tried everything, and nothing is getting better. I am giving myself until my birthday for it to get better then I am shutting down everything. The gofundme, the store, my fiction accounts, this blog, my face book, and any connection I have with the people outside this house. I just don't see the point anymore. It's not going to change.
