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The thing is, I am a terrible person.

#1
The thing is, I am a terrible person.

I say that I want to get better but I do nothing. I'm not ready to change, I'm not ready to strive. I'm only talking and talking about how I'm trying to get rid of the problem, but the truth is, I don't.
I am a terrible person and I know it. And I don't do anything to change.

(I'm even gonna pause so I can cut myself before I'm no longer feel like this. Because I'm terrible. And I want this pain, even though it's a pain to everyone around me.)

I feel pain. And I'm afraid of it. When I was a kid and brag that I didn't feel pain and that I can easily get over it without a word, I was lying. I did it for attention. I wanted them to look at me and think that I was something more. Someone brave and interesting. Someone better. I wasn't.

Now I try to hide my wounds. Because I'm afraid of the reaction of those around me. Because they'd see and they'd know how terrible I am. They'd know how I'm not worth their efforts and kindness. They'd abandon me. And I deserve it, I deserve to be left alone. But I'm afraid. I want a thing I have no right to have. I am a terrible person.

Do I suffer? I don't know. Maybe. But do sufferings mean I can do whatever I want? No. They don't. And I know it but still I remain stupid and selfish, cutting myself just so I have their attention. Attention-seeker. That's who I am.

Do I suffer? I may. Does a healthy person cut themself? No. Then, I'm not healthy. Which means, I'm a burden. Which means, I'd better not exist at all. It'd be better for everyone.

(I want to cut deeper today. Because... why not, right? Why not.)

Sonya was the first one to cut herself. Do I remember her often? I do. Do I still can't let her go? Right. I still care and I still want her to be around. I don't think it'd be better. But I can't help but feeling hurt. When I tried to talk with her, she agreed to, and then -- never again. Was it like with me and Vadim? Did she understand that I was too bad of a friend to be around me? Was she happier when she left me? Does she still remember me at all?

I loved her. Platonicly, but I did love her. But it was so long ago. Why is it still so painful?

I don't deserve this pain. It was long ago, I should be wiser than to feel it still. I should be wiser and calmer. I don't deserve to feel hurt. Whatever they do to me, I own it. It all is because of me. It all is because of how awful I am. I should've know better than to think about myself. I should've been a better friend. I should've never ever let her know that she's not the only one for me. I should've never insist that I value Vadim and her the same. It was my mistake, and I own it. I deserve no pity.

(It's painful its going to be painful i wont be able to fall asleep i hate it it hurts so much please stop me anyone i dont want to be stopped please stop it it hurts im so sorry im that bad im so sorry ive never been enough im so sorry i want a good friend please stay please dont leave me alone please pleasepleasepleaseimsosorryithurtssorrysorrysorrysorryosrrypleasestay)

I'm a terrible person, and that's the fact. Not because I don't do enough and am not perfect. Nobody's perfect, I know it pretty well. It's just... I do. I help mom, I listen cousin, I go for walks and smile and laugh and am happy. I am. I am so happy to have them all and still -- I do what I do. I hurt myself. I cry. I feel bad. I shouldn't, I should be happy for all of them, and I am, and I'm not. I hate myself. For not being glad with what I have. For remembering old offences and wanting people to see me and feel pity. I hurt them all with these feelings. I shouldn't. I'm so so so cruel.
I should change. I should change and feel better but it's not easy and I know it.

(May I just end it all, please? I want this pain to stop. I want this world to stop. I want to die. Please?)
For those who love me and whom I love, I must live and become better. Everyone knows, it's a long process. They're ready to be here with me, if I ask. I don't. It's wrong, silence's not going to help. I know it. I know it all. I know I'm gonna be better, sooner or later. I just need to try, to cling to this life, to clench my teeth and live through one day to other, until I can breath freely. I know how it feels, to be happy. No depression, I know I can be happy today and tomorrow, and right now. I know I can be happy, I can push these thought aside and smile and be here for them and ask them for help and get better ans live-live-live all of these years I have right in front of me. (Can I really be?)

I know it all. And still -- I don't want to. I never chose to struggle. I always choose the easiest way. What am I if not a terrible person? When there are people who believe in you and offer you their help, you must accept it and go on. But I choose blood and pain and sufferings and (iwanttobelieveonceiwillbeabletokillmyselfichoosedeathiwanttodiepleaseiwantthisalltoend).

That's just it. I have all of the chances to get better but I only want to take that rope and use it again. This time -- with more intent, without joking. Before I was careful to get to know how it feels when you're suffocating and still stay alive. I don't want to be this careful. I don't want to stop. I want to finish it all. I want to be as selfish as I can so I can leave those who love me. I'm that unthankful, right? Right. Right. I'm a terrible person. I should be able to do it.

(I don't want to die. I want to live. Life's precious, life's wonderful, I don't want to end it, I want to stay, I want to be happy, i want so much i have so many plans why do i say such things why do i try to make myself die i can just be happy i dont have to be like this i dont have to do it please)

Blood, I don't know what I feel when I see it. It looks... usual. I know its taste, I used to like it but now I don't care anymore. I used to think it's beautiful but it's not. I used to think scars are beautiful but they are not. They are terrible, they are noticeable, and they are here, are always here. I see them everyday, I feel them every second of my life. I hate them. I hate the way the fabric is soaked in red, I hate the way I can't forget it and still see it when I close my eyes. I HATE IT.
But I did it to myself. No-one to blame, no-one to be angry at. But me.

(Was it my mother, who made me like that? I remember the first time. We had an argue with mom. She threatened me with a belt. I brought it to her. I asked her to beat me, I pleaded. She was scared, she refused. I did it myself. I was so angry, she was so angry with me, I wanted that pain, I deserved it, I was so bad daughter, I was the worst daughter, I'd better die then and there, I'd better jump off the balkon these years ago, when I thought about it for the first time. It'd be so much better. I'd not become such an embarrassment for my mother.)

(Was it that summer, that throw me off the edge? When I had to look for my mad great-grandma, when I was laying awake at night, listening to her groans and whispers, when I tried her to convince that her hallucinations aren't real, when I babysit her and tried to be kind and patient, and listened to my grandma screaming at her and me, for not feeling happy for having to do this all?
When my friend, the only friend I had back then, tried to have sex with me? When I got to know how it fels when someone touches you and how I react with hysterical laughter, that I laugh and laugh and laugh and dig my nails in my skin to make it all stop?
When I was twelve and suddenly understood I had nowhere to go?)

(Was it Sonya, who gave me the example? I remember when she said she cut herself. I was scared. I wanted to help her. I knew how it felt already, I had my first little scars already and I wanted her to be better. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted to help her, I tried with all I could -- and then I said that I loved Vadim and shared with him the special bond we had with Sonya. (SO childish, so ridiculous... How long ago it was? Four years?) She was offended. She talked with me just once after that. Then she said she didn't want to be a friend of mine anymore.

(Iwaswithherwhensheneededmewhydedsheleftwhydidsheleftmealoneineededherineededsomeonewhyisitstillsopainful)

It was her choice, and I tried not to be obnoxious. I chose a different class, a different school. I stopped talking with her and with Vadim. I tried to avoid them both, I couldn't stand the feelings I had when I accidentally saw them on the streets.
(The feeling I had and have when I use English. She was the one to inspire my to learn it. I own her my ability to whine ti you.)
(I felt betrayed. I felt pain. I was hurt.)
I don't think I found any friend since then. Though, I had my cousin What else to ask for?)

The thing is, I'm a terrible person. I make problems for everyone -- and for myself, too. I make problems for others by making them for myself. And yet -- I'm somehow selfish enough to let myself think that I'm the one being hurt. I am, right. I am, but never to this excent. You need a better reason for death than a banal "this is too painful to live". How do you know if it is? What do you compare it to? There's always someone who suffers more than you. There's always a reason to stay. You need to be a terrible person to accept the fact that you're going to leave others and hurt them.

(Those who killed themselves are not terrible. They were hurt -- more than I am. They had their reasons, valid reasons, not some childish offences. I'm still a child, am I not? A child who have everything one can dream of. I have my mom and my cousin. I'm not hungry and I have this laptop to write this. My dad lives near enough to go to his place whenever I want. I have a little brother, my four-years-old sunshine, and I'm so happy to be able to rise him and teach him. His dad is no longer around and mom's no longer always angry.

(She had so many problems. I hoped I could do more for her. She deserved support and I wasn't paying enough attention to her. She's not saying it anymore but grandma does. I know, they both think I'm a failure. I should've went to the uni, not waste the whole year at home. I could easily kill myself there. Then mom wouldn't need to discover my body after work. She'd be told. Maybe it's better.)

I am a happy person. I have everything I can think of. My past wasn't that terrible. I don't even need to be strong, it should be easy to live my life.
The only reason I hurt them all and make them all worry is because I am me. And I'm a terrible person.)

I don't think I will die this week. Or this month. I own this life to my mother and my cousin, and my little brother, and dad, and everyone else. I own it to those who read this letter, who suffer themselves, who found themselves in a worse position. I hate myself too much to live for myself, right? But I can stick around for a while more for those who are around. They don't deserve the pain of my death. I'm not going to make it better for them, if I die, I only pass my pain.

I'm selfish. I'm selfish and terrible but they (you) are not. They deserve better than this. I can't give it but I can at least not give them my pain.
Once, they'll be tired of me. Once, they'll leave me. Once, I'll get what I deserve, I'll stay alone. Then it'd be the time. I'm waiting for it.

(Sometimes I just wish I could disappear. Not die, not hurt others. I wish I would've never excited.

I wish, once it'll be that painful, that hard... that I'll stop caring about other. That I'll take the rope and die. I'm waiting for this moment, I'm praying for it to come soon. I'm just tired. I'm tired of living, of feeling, of being hurt, of hatred, of how there's never enough pain and blood and I always want more. I want to die, just so I know I can do this and I'm that bad. I want to commit suicide just so I know it's real and I do need help. That it's not me. That I'm no worse than others. I want to kill myself just so these thoughts stop.

(I can handle them, then it's fine, I'm not dead yet, then it's fine, everything's fine, I'm fine, I'm happy, there's nothing but happiness in my life.)

I want to be able to stop it. I hate it. I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid of myself. I want cry and hugs and be helped, I want to be saved, I want to never be alone, I want someone to tell me what to do and forever stay with me. I want... (I don't deserve anything.) I want so many things.)

I just want it all to stop, right? But I never really try to stop it. I never stop myself from cutting. I'm just waiting for others to do it. I'm just waiting for a savior but I don't deserve one as long as I'm sitting in my darkness with no intent to change! It's me, who cuts. It's me, who thinks. It's me, who lets myself feel. It's me. No-one to blame but me. (No-one to get rid of, no-one to kill to stop it all.)

I'm not going to die just now. The suffering I deserve haven't come to its end yet.
But I just need to wait.
Just wait.
 
#3
Sorry that you're going through this Alsy
The thing is, I am a terrible person.

I say that I want to get better but I do nothing. I'm not ready to change, I'm not ready to strive
I don't think you're a terrible person. It can be hard to want to get better and to strive to get better. That's just one of the features of depression.

Reaching out for help and support here is actually a step toward getting better. Reaching out is actually the most critical step. So you've already accomplished something.

There may be some form of treatment or self-treatment that you find easy enough that you could try it. After a while, then maybe you'd get a little bit better, and then you could do more to get better.

The link in my signature has some information about treatment methods, including some self treatment methods. I'll post a copy of the link in case you're on a phone.

Treating Depression, Anxiety, Insomnia, Pain; Other Suicide Help

There was a time when it was hard for me to even want to get better, and almost impossible to do anything. Not eating or drinking anything cold or raw, trying to only eat freshly cooked whole foods helped me a lot. It was easy enough that I could always do it. After a while, I was able to do more things.
Attention-seeker. That's who I am
There's nothing wrong with wanting people to know that you're in pain and to want people to care and give you support. Please be gentle with yourself.
Does a healthy person cut themself? No. Then, I'm not healthy. Which means, I'm a burden. Which means, I'd better not exist at all. It'd be better for everyone.
It sounds like you're being really harsh on yourself. Almost no one is healthy physically, mentally, or in the way they relate to others. Usually there's a way for things to get better so that you at least feel glad to be alive. What would really be better for everyone would be to get better. It may take some time to get there. Please be both gentle and patient with yourself.

Hugs
 

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