I am so fucking angry. I’ve been in an angry mood all day. I can’t even deal with myself right now. Don’t read any further unless you want to read a pissed off rant of a;ewipofjs;lkfj;d guh.

I am SO FUCKING MAD at the BFX. So done. So pissed. He is so full of fucking shit. 

We aren’t even fucking friends anymore. Friends talk to each other. Friends hang out every once in a while. Friends enjoy each other’s company. He won’t do ANY of those things, no matter how hard I fucking try. I have done NOTHING but try to fix things and be friends for the last 4 months. FOUR MONTHS OF FUCKING EFFORT. No, I haven’t been great 100% of the time, but neither has he. But at least I can say I fucking tried. And that effort has been COMPLETELY one-sided. And for some reason, everyone thinks I am the goddamn bad guy in this situation and I don’t fucking know why. 

Also, if you want to say you care about someone, that means you care about them ALL OF THE TIME. Not just when I fucking remind you that I’m alive. But he completely ignores me/forgets that I exist 99% of the time. He never fucking talks to me. He never even acts like he gives one fucking shit about my existence. But then as soon as I message him or call him its like “Hi I care about you a lot I do I promise” BULL MOTHERFUCKING SHIT. HE IS SO FUCKING FULL OF SHIT. HE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT ME. HE WANTS TO FEEL BETTER ABOUT HIMSELF AND ABOUT EVERYTHING HE’S DONE TO ME SO HE CONVINCES HIMSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE THAT HE CARES ABOUT ME. BUT HE DOESN’T. 

The worst part is, as angry as I am, and as much as I know that he doesn’t actually care (actions speak louder than words, motherfucker), I’m still probably going to keep trying. Because for some unknown motherfucking reason, I DO care. And I’m mad at myself for that, too.

Earlier today, I had the thought – verbatim – run through my head: “I want to slit my own throat.” 

About an hour ago, I had a sudden urge to shoot up. Yeah, like heroine. I’ve never done anything more than smoke a lot of weed and one time I accidentally robotripped (long story). Not to mention I have a massive phobia of hypodermic needles – without Xanax, I faint while they are putting the tourniquet on to draw the blood. But I wanted nothing more than to slam a needle into my arm and pump myself full of the strongest drug I could get my hands on. 

I feel like my brain is coming apart at the seams. I have moments where I feel mostly ok and then… its like I’m running through a field and then someone throws a brick wall up in front of me. And then I freak out, calm down, and keep running… and then there is another brick wall. Except the running is my ability to function and the brick walls are pure insanity. 

I would say I need help, but I am already in therapy. I’ve been in therapy since the end of August. I like my therapist. But this trip down insanity lane started while I was already in therapy, and it is only getting worse. I don’t get it.

But I can’t ruin anyone’s Christmas with this and I gotta get it out so… here ya go.

Not like anyone really reads this anyway :-/

I fucking TOLD HIM that I am suicidal. I had a few large breakdowns the last week and a half I was in RI and I texted HIM. The morning I left to come home to Philly for break I had to take my fish tank over to his place so he could care for it while I was out of town (easier to move the fish a mile than 250 miles, right?). He gave me a huge hug – the first real hug he has given me since we broke up – and he told me to “keep talking to [him].” But then he hasn’t talked to me since then. I mean yeah, the next day he asked if I wanted one of his fish (my favorite kind of fish), and we have had “hi how are you fine ok” conversations a few times, but he hasn’t talked to me. He hasn’t made sure I was ok. He hasn’t texted me first (other than if I wanted his fish). He hasn’t checked up to make sure that I’m alright. 

You said you would be my best friend. You said you would be there for me. Then why are you still acting like I don’t fucking matter even when my fucking life is on the line? I am starting to hate you, as much as I still love you. And it is leaving me in more pain and even more conflicted about what to do with you. And with everybody. And everything. Are you truly here for me or not? Are you still my best friend or not? I’m inclined to say not, with the way you’ve been acting. 

You have one last chance. One last chance to redeem yourself. And then, for my own good and my own safety, I might have to remove you from my life as much as I possibly can, as much as it feels like I am carving out every necessary internal organ I have to do so.

I am going so downhill right now. I don’t even know why.

Lets set depression on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being “I’m sad today,” 5 being “moderately depressed,” and 10 being “Suicide is imminent.” In the past two weeks, I have gone from like a 6 to a 9.5 and I don’t know why. I can’t get out of it. I want to die. I see no goddamn point in trying to be happy anymore. I’m 22. My life is a quarter over, and I’ve spent most of it in complete and utter misery. It didn’t get better when I went from middle school to high school. It didn’t get better when I went from high school to college. It has actually gotten WORSE in the last 4-5 months. I don’t understand. I mean yeah, I lost the BFX and its been rough getting through that, and yeah I still love him every bit as much as I did before we broke up, but I’ve been through breakups before and none of them made me feel this bad for this long. None of them made me feel WORSE nearly 5 months after than 3 months after. 

I don’t know what is going on. All I know is that I want it to end.

After anyone commits suicide, people say “but I loved them! I cared about them! Why didn’t they realize that!” Well, I can tell you why. This is why:

Today, right in front of me, a friend invited another friend of mine to see The Hobbit. I was literally standing between them. And these are friends I hang out with on a regular basis, to the point where people make jokes that I practically live at their apartment. I could have been invited. But I wasn’t.

Then, not even 5 minutes later, I was talking to two other friends in the band closet… its a small freaking room. Another friend comes in and asks them to hang out tonight and watch Wall-E. I was, again, RIGHT THERE. And I was, again, ignored, like I wasn’t right there. I was, again, not invited. And all people involved have been saying all semester that we don’t hang out enough, that we should hang out more, yadda yadda.

Just now, the BFX got an invite to the Wall-E thing. They went out of their way to invite him later, but couldn’t take the time to add me in their invite from earlier when I was RIGHT THERE. 

No one asks me to grab dinner. No one asks me to come over later. No one asks me to go to a party with them or hang out with them or grab lunch with them. And I am not exaggerating. I have ONE FRIEND who initiated getting lunch with me this semester. One. And she, in the past, has pulled the kind of shit mentioned above, but all of her closer friends graduated so I’m all that’s left…I’m still a consolation prize. I didn’t matter to her or get invites from her until her “best friends” left. I matter so little to my “friends” that their social lives would not be altered one iota if I died. If I just moved across the world instead of dying, none of them would even care. Before I left they would be like “oh I’ll miss you,” but once I moved they wouldn’t miss me at all. They forget me while I’m here, of course they would forget me the second I left. 

But if I killed myself, they would all be like “omg I loved her why didn’t she see that so many people care about her this is so sad.” And here is their answer: If you actually loved me, you would want to spend time with me. If you actually cared about me, you would care and notice if I wasn’t around at your get togethers. If you loved me and cared about me at all, I would matter enough that if I was standing right in front of you, you would invite me to your plans when you invite my other friends. Who also never invite me to shit.