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.