Dirty Little Secret
"You should talk to someone."
These words don't mean anything to me anymore. There are so many people who I have tried to talk to about how depressed I am but they never listen to me. They're either too busy, too annoyed, too annoying, too uncaring or just plain insensitive and I really don't have the kind of emotional stamina to deal with them, not when I feel like this.
I'm a known suicidal. So what? I'm not a disease, you're not going to suddenly have the urge to stop living by being around me. Don't treat me like I'm dangerous. I'm not dangerous to anyone but myself.
No one ever listens to me.
Even after the whole breakdown I had in the spring, my parents think I'm fine. They don't think there's anything wrong with me. And after Moonlight begged me for so long to talk to someone and get help from somebody- that was the ultimate slap in the face. To finally confess that I feel so utterly worthless that sometimes I want to end my own life; and then be totally ignored- or worse coddled like some sort of China Doll; but not helped in any way.. well that hurts.
It really does.
So no, I'm not going to talk to anyone. And no, I'm not going to get help. I'm going to suffer in silence.
If I perish, I perish.
My entire life has seemed up to this point to be what some would term "quiet desperation". And forget all of you that would try to -and succeed in making me feel bad about myself.
I don't want your attention anymore and I don't need your permission.
I hate myself, I always have.
That's my dirty, little secret.
These words don't mean anything to me anymore. There are so many people who I have tried to talk to about how depressed I am but they never listen to me. They're either too busy, too annoyed, too annoying, too uncaring or just plain insensitive and I really don't have the kind of emotional stamina to deal with them, not when I feel like this.
I'm a known suicidal. So what? I'm not a disease, you're not going to suddenly have the urge to stop living by being around me. Don't treat me like I'm dangerous. I'm not dangerous to anyone but myself.
No one ever listens to me.
Even after the whole breakdown I had in the spring, my parents think I'm fine. They don't think there's anything wrong with me. And after Moonlight begged me for so long to talk to someone and get help from somebody- that was the ultimate slap in the face. To finally confess that I feel so utterly worthless that sometimes I want to end my own life; and then be totally ignored- or worse coddled like some sort of China Doll; but not helped in any way.. well that hurts.
It really does.
So no, I'm not going to talk to anyone. And no, I'm not going to get help. I'm going to suffer in silence.
If I perish, I perish.
My entire life has seemed up to this point to be what some would term "quiet desperation". And forget all of you that would try to -and succeed in making me feel bad about myself.
I don't want your attention anymore and I don't need your permission.
I hate myself, I always have.
That's my dirty, little secret.