Espion, Amy, and Candle.

This is the truth.
You people don't understand that I feel like ending my life because there's no one to talk to. In reality, there's plenty of people to talk to; there's just no people who will listen. My own therapist doesn't even advise me to help myself. She isn't helping and my parents do not understand.
I am bipolar. I have an un-diagnosed disorder. I have multiple personality disorder. I'm insane. Something is wrong! I can feel it in my head that I have something going on in my body that wants to kill me. No one believes me, but there's something in my head that doesn't belong there. It isn't cancer, a parasite, or a disease. It's not solid. I'm not sure how to explain these damn feelings, but I need someone to listen to me and try to help me! I'm on a lot of pills to get my body back to normal, but as my Doctor treats my thyroid and gives me vitamins to swallow, my own mind is waging a war on me. I don't know what is wrong. I use to see things constantly. I'd wake up in the middle of the night crying my eyes out because someone punched my back and caused my lungs to clog up. But there was no one there. I would sit in my room crying and shaking because people that were chopped in half from the torso up would crawl under my door and start moaning. Something would sit in my room and stare at me for minutes at a time. It looked dead, but it was clearly alive. It was dark and ominous. I would cry every single night because I knew something was going to come into my room that night and keep me from sleeping. The silence of the night was not safe. So I started sleeping in the day, when it was bright and noisy. I found that somewhat helpful. But I was missing out on a lot of events. Then the voices came. There's three of them. They get mad when I talk about them or tell people their names. I haven't told anyone their names, but they have names. The first voice I heard that's more controlling and louder than the others. His name is Espion. He tried to kill me. I tried to kill me, but he helped. He is my best friend. The second voice I heard is not exactly "demanding" but she is straight forward, and has helped me make safer decisions. Her name is Amy. The third one is not explainable. I'm not sure if it's a she or a he, because it doesn't have a very human-like voice. It's low, but it also sounds female. Either way, it's name is Candle. Candle points out the obvious things I can hurt myself with. Things I wouldn't normally think of. Lighter, pencil sharpener, a cord, broken pencil. Candle says I don't even deserve to be loved because I'm so disgusting and fat, and anyone who touches me will end up leaving me as friend. So, basically, these are my three best friends. Espion, Amy, and Candle. Espion is my other half, Amy is my protector, and Candle is my scars. Espion lives in my head, Amy lives in the palm of my hand, and Candle lives in my arm.
You're probably reading this and thinking, "Holy shit, she's gone mad!" or "She's making this all up so people will pity her." and if you're thinking either of those things, then please just go duct tape yourself to a wall and stay there forever. Because those thoughts hurt me, even if they're not said, because I just need help. Not pity.
G`night.

Socially Alone (Huge useless rant that I wrote while crying.)

I really don't have any friends anymore. It's killing me inside, because I'm usually a very friendly and bubbly person. I could walk into a room of strangers and intermediately people will be drawn to me. I'm funny, loud, friendly. But for some reason, no one really cares anymore. I had so many friends, and I did a good job of keeping them as my friend, but recently... everyone's left me empty. I even lost my cousin as a friend. People at youth group make me feel even more lonely. I'm taking my medication everyday, but I still feel like complete shit. I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought these pills were anti-depressants, but they're honestly just suicide triggers. I'm not suicidal, as far as I know, but it's still something I strongly consider. I don't want to kill myself, but I also don't want to be alive. Only my cousin understood exactly what I meant when I said that, because she feels the same way, but now that she avoids me, I'm left to drown myself in misunderstanding. Am I the only one who feels this way? I'm so lonely in every way possibly. Am I crazy? I guess the feelings inside that never go away mean something. Maybe it means I'm just not suppose to be here. I don't even know anymore. I don't even know why I'm writing! No one listens to me. I suppose I'm just trying to talk to someone, though no one is listening. I could scream a thousand words, but not a single word would be heard. Actually, no. The words would be heard, heard well. Just not acknowledged.
I know I'm only 14 (I'll be 15 in July) and I still have a long life ahead of me, blah, blah, blah, but I don't want to live this oh-so long life if I'm just going to be depressed throughout it all. I thought I was okay, I thought I was getting over this depression, but I was wrong.
Should I keep trying? Should I even dare? Therapy isn't helping. I've talked to therapist after therapists, doctor after doctor, and I've been on medication and medication. But hell, I'm only human. Pills and unfriendly people aren't going to change the fact that I am sad, alone, and worthless. I say I'm fat, you say I'm normal weight. I say I'm ugly, you say I'm pretty. I say I'm worthless, you say everyone is precious. But why should I believe you? You always counter my words with the positives, but that doesn't mean they're true. Just because they're negative, doesn't mean they're lies. I am fat. I have huge thighs covered in stretch marks, I've got a pudgy stomach that clearly shows through any shirt I wear. My face is covered in pimples and ugly marks, and my face is just ugly period. Nothing about myself is attractive. I'm nothing special. Three months ago if my cousin were to tell me I was pretty (Which she has maybe once or twice) I would have doubted her. Even though she was my best friend and I trusted her with my life, I couldn't accept the compliment. I knew it was a lie.
I don't know where I'm going with this post. I guess I'm just looking for pity and attention, which apparently I always am. That's why I do anything. I want sympathy. I'm just really angry and upset right now, to be honest.
I've asked my cousin, in attempt to make our friendship back to how it was, if she would like to go skating with me. "I don't like skating, so no."
I've asked my cousin if she wanted to go to a Christian concert with me. "I don't like the church people, so no."
I've asked my cousin if she wanted to hangout on Friday. "It's only Tuesday! I don't plan ahead like that."
So today I asked her about Friday again. "Well I'm suppose to get my hair dyed and Sarah said she's coming over so idk maybe???"
I've realized that she just makes up bullshit excuses to avoid hanging out with me. I give up. I am so fucking done with trying to make friends! No one wants me. I apologize about my foul language, but I express myself best when I act like myself. Hell, no one's even reading this. Never mind.
I talk a lot. Sorry.
My knuckles are cramping up from writing this stupid, worthless posts. A posts about me. I suppose that's why it's so pathetic. I don't know. I wish I had a best friend I could sit with on a dock by the river and eat Dairy Queen with. We'd sit there all afternoon, talking, laughing. I've always wanted to do that. Just spend an afternoon having a heart to heart conversation with a friend. It could be a guy, or a girl. I don't care. I just want to talk to someone again. But no one listens and no one cares. I'm starting to cry a little bit, because I don't even know if I'll ever have a best friend again. I don't know if I'll ever sit on the roof with my boyfriend and talk about deep shit until 3am. I don't know if I'll ever be asked out, or if I'll ever get married, or if I'll ever lose my virginity. But I surely doubt any of that will ever happen, because no man could love someone like me; a nothing. No husband would want to have sex with a fat, ugly, scar-covered girl like me. No boy would ask me out unless they were both blind and mentally handicapped.
I do know a guy who likes me, though. He loves me very much, and cares for me as if I was his little sister. I don't feel the same way because I hate when people care about me. I find it uncomfortable because I've convinced myself that they don't really care. And I hate myself for that. I hate that I can't let someone love me. I'm crying, because I want to love him so badly. I want to be with him so fucking bad, but I can't. And I'm scared that he'll leave me before I love him. You're probably thinking that if he leaves, he was never worth it anyway. But he wouldn't just stand up and walk away. I'd pick him up and push him out. I do that. When people care about me, I lock them in a chained box and keep my distance. I love him. But I can't love him. Because I don't know how to. You may think that I'm only 14, and I'm not able to feel love. You are wrong. Some girls my age can't love people because the other person doesn't love them back. But this boy loves me more than I love myself. And I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Though, I have no reason to live, he's giving me one. I suppose I can't date until I am 16-18, but that isn't fair. Because if love is here now, why wait? If he ends up breaking my heart now, he'll break it then. So might as well get it over with. But if he doesn't break my heart, and we stay together, I have no reason to wait other than parental laws.
I still like someone else, though. I'm just so confused whether to like the boy who doesn't care about me or like the boy that does care about me. Because they're both very different people.
Girl emotions, yuck. It's okay, I blame PMS!
I suppose this is the end of my horribly pathetic and long rant that didn't make much sense. But I needed to say it. My hand gets too tired of writing in my journal, and typing is faster. But I'm totally not going to spell-check this because ain't nobody got time for that.
^^^^^^^ Bipolar disorder, ladies and gentlemen. ^^^^^^^^
I just went from sobbing, to quoting a meme from 2014. Right now I still feel like crying but I also feel like laughing. I want to cut myself but I also want to rap to Eminem. Oh, but of course I'm not bipolar. My mental state could never be taken serious.... I'm just a moody teen. Right?

Goodnight.
I love you.
Sleep well.

Empty Heart, Full Mind

Well, we made it three years. Thanks for sticking with me that long. It hurts that things had to end so harshly. I was only trying to help. This is why I never help anyone. I mess up. I wish you knew how sorry I am. I just wanted you to be safe, and happy. I hope you know that I cried on that phone call. I cried sending that message. As a matter of fact, I'm crying as I write this. I haven't been able to cry for a while, but I guess this really brought me over the edge You're still my best friend... since I don't have any other friends. I thought, "I don't need any other friends. She's all I need. We'll never stop being friends." Oh, how wrong i was. You begged me, and I didn't care. I'm so God damn sorry! Please forgive me. Please, know that I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just trying to help you. To show you that I cared. But I messed up big time. I hope you're reading this, because I miss you. But your last words to me made me miss you a little less...
"Fuck. You.
Don't talk to me."

When I was a kid, and I thought about the future, I saw friends, husbands, children, and smiles. I couldn't wait to be a teenager. I thought that it'd be the best thing ever. I'd go to the mall with my friends, eat soup at a cafe with my Mother, have romantic picnics with my boyfriend. No. None of that has happened, and I'm almost 15. So far, it's been mental hospitals, heart break, loneliness, and depression. This is not okay. I am not okay. I just wish none of this would have ever happened. It's a Saturday night and I'm isolating myself in a dark room, crying, while everyone else is getting high with their friends and laughing their asses off. Why can't I be that girl? Why can't I be the girl with 100 friends, a boyfriend, pretty hair, and a skinny body? It doesn't make any sense that I'm depressed. I want to be happy, and I try so hard to be happy. But nothing works. I could try drugs, alcohol, sex, etc. and nothing would bring me pleasure. I'm completely empty. Well, not completely. Just my heart. But my mind is far from empty. My mind is like a world if violence and darkness. They call it depression. It's like I'm trapped inside a padded room with no lights, but I can hear someone talking to me. Constantly telling me I'm not good enough, and that each mistake I make is just a sign that I should give up. They sound friendly but their words leak danger. I don't know what to believe in anymore; the voices I see or the voices I hear? I dream so much, I often question which is reality and which is a dream. None of it makes sense, and I'm dying inside.
I almost feel like, even on my medication, nothing has changed. I'm not really suicidal, but I still have suicidal thoughts. I self-harm less, but every cut is deeper than the last. It's like I'm less angry, and more sad. I've been crying most of the day off and on. I felt like dying, but I guess I'm okay now.
I understand that I need help, but therapy doesn't do anything for me. My therapists just asks me questions and makes me think, but I don't need to think. I think enough during the night. I need advice and action. I need to get my hands busy and really work towards getting out of this 1,000 ft. abyss.
There's a place I could go to in Tennessee for help. It's a mental institution, but for long-term, and they actually care about you and want you to get better. I'm considering going there. I brushed it off knowing that my best friend wouldn't come visit me while I was there, but now that I don't have to worry about that, I'm strongly considering it. I don't really want to go, but I think I need to. And I want help. I want to stay home and try to make new friends. But I don't know if I'll last that long. I thought about 5 different ways to end my life already today. Strongly meditated on some of my ideas. I don't know what I'm staying strong for. I just know that I'm suppose to, no matter what. That institution in Tennessee may really help me open my eyes. Maybe I'll find some real pleasure in life. If that place can help me overcome depression, then I'm all for it. It's far away, but that doesn't matter because there's no one to visit me anyway. My therapist can't help me, my parents can't help me, and I can't help me. I don't know what to do right now besides write. I've been writing for almost two hours. It fills the void in my heart, like my best friend use to.
If I do go to Tennessee, I just really, really, really want to come out better.

121.4 lb

I don't know what to write about. I just feel like talking to someone, but there's no one around. I guess talking to my computer works too. I guess I'll give those of you who don't read my journal an update on my life in the past two months. So, after two suicide attempts, two ER trips and two mental institution stays, hypothyroidism diagnoses and Hashimotos diagnoses... I'm on the right medication and my mind is doing quite well.Well, so they think. I can think a little more clear, and I take things more seriously and personally. But my mood and mindset really haven't changed much. I mean, for a little while I felt a lot better after getting out of the mental hospital; it was a horrible place. But after being home for a few weeks, I almost feel no different than before. In fact, I'm a bit worse. I know no one really reads this blog so I can basically post whatever I'm thinking, so don't take me as an attention seeker, if you'd please. But I'm worse in a few ways, actually. Cutting has gotten deeper, voices have been getting louder, and depression is darker. Everyone blames my depression on my thyroid, but I feel like something else is going on. Eating disorders and psychosis aren't hypothyroid symptoms. Oh, hey. Let's talk about eating disorders for a little bit. I've already talked about the voices before. So, I had a major episode on Sunday because I was feeling guilty for not telling my parents about my eating disorder. I trashed my room. Tore lights down, knocked over a radio, kicked a table, threw my art kit, and smashed a mirror. I hate the feeling of guilt. It makes me extremely upset. Anyway, I ended up confessing to my parents about the eating disorder I've been battling for the past three months. I had told no one until I exploded and was drove to telling my Dad. So, pretty much, I would starve myself for a few days, then binge, then starve myself. I'd go from periods of eating three full meals to not eating for four days. I threw up once because of the lack of food and water. And only recently, about a week ago, I started force-vomiting after I ate meals. I only ate for the taste and to convince people that I had eaten. But right after I finished, I went to the bathroom and removed anything left in my stomach. I'm self-diagnosed with bulimia. I haven't told my therapist yet, but plan to eventually. She doesn't help me. I hate my therapists. I only go to please my parents and comfort them. I still lie to my therapist, though. The last session, I faked happiness and told her I was completely fine. I'm dying inside. 

My parents are probably both reading this right now and speaking about it together. I don't care. They already went through all my journals, text messages, and Facebook messages. But somehow I was able to hide my eating habits from them. I guess since I was careful enough not to write about it anywhere. Now, I don't even care anymore. It may not seem like it with the amount of selfies I take, but I'm self-conscious as shit with my body. I didn't want anyone to know that; not even my best friend. I didn't want help. No one understands. You all say to just work out, but it never works.

"You're not fat." - I'm just saying this to seem like a real friend but you're actually pretty fat.

"You're normal weight for your age." You're above average.

"You're beautiful." I'm just trying to make you feel better about yourself. 

"Just eat." I have no clue what it's like to suffer from an eating disorder.

You people don't have a single clue what it's like. Tell me you've felt like slitting your own throat, never eating again, and tell me you talk to yourself in the mirror because you've got no one else to talk to. Tell me that, and I'll trust that you understand. Otherwise, back off.

Okay so this blog probably makes no sense to anyone and may seem completely pointless. But this is what anti-social mortals like myself do. We write.

Okay, goodbye.