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Latest Journal Entry

March 5, 2010

Things I Forget

I want to die.

Sometimes, you guys, I am so lonely. It's the kind of lonely you get after you've watched a few episodes of some shows on On Demand, spent all of dinner listening to your parents talk about moving and making you start your life over again, played some good but sad songs over and over, and realized that most of your friends are in a relationship and you're not. Right now, I've changed into pajamas and I'm sitting here and thinking about all these things. I've been thinking about how all these reasons are making me depressed, and possibly bipolar.

Now I'm remembering seventh grade. It was only last year, so it's not too hard to do. I was going through some serious, genuine shit then. I was convinced I was extremely overweight (maybe I was, 120 lbs. at 12 years? I don't know.) and I ended up starving myself and excercising at 11 pm each night for almost two months. It didn't work because sometimes I would cave and eat a huge snack. Then I'd cut myself as punishment and have to find a way to hide that until the cuts healed. I couldn't even hide them, though (my friends saw them and asked about them), so I considered myself a total failure. My usual A's and A 's slipped to C's and I began to plan my suicide at 12 years of age. I knew I could never be as a good as my sister, who was in Algebra, good at track and soccer, and beat me in every way. I became paranoid and never spoke to anyone for fear of offending them. A lot of 'popular' kids teased me anyway, just for being quiet. I couldn't do anything right any more. I wrote a suicide note, put the razor to my wrist... and stopped. I was so young; why did I want to die? There was so much I would never do if I ended my life then. So I didn't. Gradually, I spoke and ate more, and whenever anyone teased me, I'd just remember killing myself wouldn't make things better for anyone.

The summer after seventh grade I learned that my sister was anorexic. She had the same problems I had earlier, but her starving and excercising actually made her lose weight. She was still stronger, as horrible as it was, because she had won over me yet again. My parents had to monitor her, but she was still losing weight, so she was a resident in the eating disorder wing of a hospital in Maine for a week or two. My parents only had time for her, so my baby sister was put into my arms for 3 to 4 hours a day. I was pushed aside. I had never been helped out of my depression; instead my sister was the main focus, AGAIN. I almost cry when I think of her, but she is also the reason I stopped crying. That was the only way I grew stronger.

I'm almost at the point where I'm going to kill myself again. I'm a year older and maybe a little wiser; the last time I cut myself was more than a few months ago, but here I am again. What's wrong with me? Why can't I just beat this? I know why, of course: That was a rhetorical question. I spent many nights Googling my symptoms and learned all about depression. It's not something you beat quickly. But come on, it's been a year and practically nothing has changed. And now that we might be moving, and I will have to start all over again in school and probably cut myself more, just because I'll be lonely and hating myself and stuff.

But I still try to remember that I'm young. Life scares me a whole lot, but it's something you're allowed to take slowly. No one forces you to rush life. These are things I forget, and that a lot of people forget. Writing about the past year and a half has helped some, and every time I do this kind of thing, I uncover a little more that I hadn't remembered, and it makes things a tiny bit better.

IF YOU FEEL THE SAME:

Personally, I suggest taking a walk. Bring paper and a way to listen to music. Don't think about what you may look like to neighbors or passerby; just think about how you feel and why you feel that way. Write down anything you want to remember about the walk, the music, your feelings.

If you don't have time for a walk, close your eyes when no one is looking. Think about the stuff in your life that makes you depressed. Brainstorm solutions. Write them down. Read them later.

Someday I want to be a psychologist. I want to save kids like me, I want to make them feel good and included and happy. Hell, I want them to be genuinely happy for a good hour of their shitty days and lives. Try thinking about what you want to be someday. You know that anything you do affects someone in some way, and maybe if you aren't there to save a life, the life won't be saved. Do you think you can live to save lives?

I hope this little, insignificant journal entry helps anyone that needed it.

xx fatcat54

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