I just finished cutting.
My first time in 2016.
There goes my New Year’s resolution.
I haven’t been taking my medicine. Partly because it’s inconvenient, and partly because I’m tired of it. Sometimes I feel like I’ll be fine without it. Sometimes I feel like I’m rebelling against it because I want to feel this way. I want to cut. I want to feel hopeless.
But other times…I just want to be normal. I want to be happy and laugh at the little things. Lately, laughing takes a whole lot of effort. Everything takes a whole lot of effort.
I’m trying to fill the hole in my heart with a man, but I’m not having much luck. Every time it seems like someone wants to be with me, their actions show that they are only interested in fucking me.
I suppose I’ll just continue feeling this way until I decide I want to be better.
People have been asking me why I’m depressed. I could list out all of the reason, but that would take awhile…I will try anyway.
When I was 6 years-old I was molested repeatedly by my “best friend”. His name was Jake (I think). He made me touch and put my mouth on his privates for months. One day I told a friend nonchalantly, then she told her mom who told my told my mom. Then the next thing I know we are in a different neighborhood where I have no friends.
During my freshmen year of high school, I had my first kiss with a boy named Sam (we will call him Sam). My friend Andie (we will call her Andie) was secretly in love with Sam so she turned all of our friends against me. I tried to remain under the radar because of all of this drama during my freshmen and sophomore years of high school.
On a cruise when I was 16, I lost my virginity to a guy in the ship. I cried. He was older. He also had a girlfriend. I didn’t know this encounter would change everything.
By the time I came back to the States, something had shut down inside me. I didn’t care who was inside me.
During my junior year, my friend Brent (fake name) killed himself by hanging himself in his closet. The summer before my senior year, my friend Kevin (fake name) killed himself also by hanging himself. I was in love with him. He was beautiful. I wish he could’ve known how much I cared about him before he did that to himself.
By then I was officially off the rails. I wanted nothing to do with “old-fashioned courtship”. I just wanted to feel affection from men. Which I got through sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Now that I am back home and out of school, I can say that I have had at least over 20 sex partners. I feel dirty. I feel disgusting. I want nothing but to slit my wrists and receive my dues as the true slut I am.
That is all I have to say. I’m sorry.