Take a deep breath…

Aunna and Blake are shouting at each other. All I asked was for Blake to take a bath. He said no. Aunna yelled at him for not listening to me. I’m hiding in bed through all the yelling. It all reminds me of my dad yelling at me. At my brothers. My self is reminding me of my step mom getting upset and hiding.

I am a product of my upbringing.

I want to hide. I want to go to the ER. I feel like I’m a danger to myself. To others. I’m going to explode. I’m holding myself tight, knees to my chest, arms close together, head bowed to my phone to keep the explosion in.

I’m going to implode.

I need a grand gesture to convince them that I need help.

Words are not enough.

Should I cut deep enough for stitches?

Should I steal Aunna’s keys while she’s in the bathroom and take all my pills until my mouth foams? Would my pills do that?

Death seems so sweet. I want to die. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.


I’m needed.
Not in the whole life saving needing that people need me because they love me. (I’m sure people do but not enough for my suicidal brain, nothing is ever enough) But they need me because I do stuff for them. Needed to clean, needed to drive people, needed to be there for my son. (my choice, but it’s feeling less like motherhood because my heart isn’t in it. I’m a terrible mother. Even one of my therapists was like “You’re acting like his sister, not his mother.” like jeeze, thanks for pointing out my faults, I sure feel SO MUCH BETTER.)
My parents need me to be baby sitter to my brothers who are SIXTEEN and THIRTEEN. I am needed to drive them everywhere. If I was in the hospital I make everything hard on them. Like how dare I get help because I’m not there to DO things for them.
I do have the Step-Mother like Cinderella, but she isn’t evil. I actually really do love my Step-mom a lot.

Like I guess this is good enough to keep me from committing suicide and cutting so deep I need stitches but it keeps me screaming inside that I am in pain and nothing is helping. Help me help me help me I’m dying.

The Cost of Self-Destructive Coping Strategies: You engage in unsafe sexual activity, like unprotected sex or sex with strangers

This is about Nick. Nick will probably never read this and I hope he never well because I’m going to be saying not so nice things about him.

He’s a friend that Aunna made while working at King Soopers and he stays a constant friend. Sorta. He was a constant friend before we had sex. Why did he and I have sex? I was questioning my sexuality. Nah, still not bisexual. Totally a lesbian. But the first time we had sex awakened a new self-destructive coping-mechanism.

Nick now only ever contacts me first if he wants to get his dick wet. I am now his sex toy. I allow it. I love the attention. I really love the attention. He doesn’t stay the cuddle, he doesn’t stay to talk. He doesn’t stay to be friends, he leaves right after.

I never tell him no.

Aunna is aware of this. At first she was fine with it but now she’s not. She tells him no for me.

But when I say yes she doesn’t get mad at me.

It’s better than cutting myself or taking a handful of pills. (two handfuls actually. I am prescribed a handful of pills to take morning and night) Okay maybe it would take me three handfuls now to do anything.

But regardless… I am a sex toy. I use sex to destroy myself. I am a slut. I am nothing. Fucking kill me.



2 thoughts on “Take a deep breath…

  1. 1: I was babysitting at age 13 so what is going on with your brothers honestly. 2: I can tell this is happening a lot because your psych fucked up your meds. Remember the meds are going to change and make this easier to survive. 3: I understand that need for attention and self harm but someone like that is gross and horrible and you deserve better than to be treated like that

    Liked by 1 person

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