Jag lyckadess stå imot kniven igår. Men idag är det en ny dag och jag faila totalt. Med bladen i en ask under kudden ska jag nu sova. jag hoppas att min mamma inte ser mina sår på mitt ben när hon kommer in för att väcka mig imon. Om hon ser dem kommer allt vara över. Jag kommer få ge upp. Jag kommer ge upp om hon ser dem.

min kompis skickade det här till mig i hopp om att det skulle få mig att må bättre. Jag antar att hon kopierade det från nån sida. Det fick mig att må både b'ttre och sämre. Det första jg gjorde efter jag läst det var att gå till vårt "medicin skåp" i köket för att se om det fanns något man kunde dö av om man fick en överdos. Framför allt kollade jag efter sömnpiller. Men det fanns inget. Inget som skulle kunna ta kål på mig. Tror jag iaf inte... tänker kolla igenom det fler gånger i hopp om något. om jag inte hittar något kanske jag dör av att jag äter för lite. Jag tror att jag har lyckats skapa en ED.

Jag har gått ner 1,5 kg på 5 dagar. det är för lite. mitt mål är att väga 39 kg
Just nu väger jag ca 43.6 kg. bara -5 kg till så är jag nöjd.

iaf så skickade min kompis detta:

"Wanna kill yourself? Imagine this. You come home from school one day. You’ve had yet another horrible day. You’re just ready to give up. So you go to your room, close the door, and take out that suicide note you’ve written and rewritten over and over and over. You take out those razor blades, and cut for the very last time. You grab that bottle of pills and take them all. Laying down, holding the letter to your chest, you close your eyes for the very last time.

A few hours later, your little brother knocks on your door to come tell you dinners ready. You don’t answer, so he walks in. All he sees is you laying on your bed, so he thinks you’re asleep. He tells your mom this. Your mom goes to your room to wake you up. She notices something is odd. She grabs the paper in your hand and reads it. Sobbing, she tries to wake you up. She’s screaming your name. Your brother, so confused, runs to go tell Dad that “Mommy is crying and brother won’t wake up.” Your dad runs to your room. He looks at your mom, crying, holding the letter to her chest, sitting next to your lifeless body. It hits him, what’s going on, and he screams. He screams and throws something at the wall. And then, falling to his knees, he starts to cry. Your mom crawls over to him, and they sit there, holding each other, crying.

The next day at school, there’s an announcement. The principal tells everyone about your suicide. It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, and once it does, everyone goes silent. Everyone blames themselves. Your teachers think they were too hard on you. Those mean popular girls, they think of all the things they’ve said to you. That girl that used to tease you and call you names, she can’t help but hate himself for never telling you how awesome you really are. Your ex girlfriend, the one that you told everything to, that broke up with you.. She can’t handle it. She breaks down and starts crying, and runs out of the school. Your friends?They’re sobbing too, wondering how they could never see that anything was wrong, wishing they could have helped you before it was too late. And your best friend? He’s in shock. He can’t believe it. He knew what you were going through, but He never thought it would get that bad… Bad enough for you to end it.

He can’t cry, he can’t feel anything. He stands up, walks out of the classroom, and just sinks to the floor. Shaking, screaming, but no tears coming out. It’s a few days later, at your funeral. The whole town came. Everyone knew you, that guy with the bright smile and helpful personality. The one that was always there for them, the shoulder to cry on. Lots of people talk about all the good memories they had with you, there were a lot. Everyone’s crying, your little brother still doesn’t know you killed yourself, he’s too young. Your parents just said you died. It hurts him, a lot. You were his big brother, you were supposed to always be there for him. Your best friend, he stays strong through the entire service, but as soon as they start lowering your casket into the ground, he just loses it. He cries and cries and doesn’t stop for days.

It’s two years later. The whole school talks to a counselor/therapist at least once a week. Your teachers all quit their job. Those mean girls have eating disorders now. That girl that used to tease you cuts herself. Your ex girlfriend doesn’t know how to love anymore and just sleeps around with guys. Your friends all go into depression. Your best friend? He tried to kill himself. He didn’t succeed like you did, but he tried…

your brother? He finally found out the truth about your death. He self harms, he cries at night, he does exactly what you did for years leading up to your suicide. Your parents? Their marriage fell apart. Your dad became a workaholic to distract himself from your death. Your mom got diagnosed with depression and just lays in bed all day. People care. You may not think so, but they do. Your choices don’t just effect you. They effect everyone. Don’t end your life, you have so much to live for. Things can’t get better if you give up. I’m here for absolutely anyone that needs to talk, no matter who you are. Even if we’ve NEVER talked before, i’m here for you. People care about you more than you'll ever know."

jag kommer antagligen inte lyckas att hålla mig borta från mina "knivar" inatt... om jag lyckas att inte skära mig kommer jag göra nått annat ist, kanske bränna mig eller nått som förra gången...

jag la ner på sidan innan och råkade titta på min handled och det såg så jävla lockande ut. men om jag smär mig mer på mina armar kommer min mamma märka det och tvinga mig att söka hjälp. inte för att jag skulle snacka precis... Jag håller hälst tyst om det går. Det är mitt sätt att undvika trubbel men det blir bara jobbigare och jobbigare ju mer jag vill säga nått... till slut efter att personen jag snacka med har gått brukar jag skära mig för jag vill bara skrika. Skrika och gråta. Men inget av det kan jag. Det ända jag kan är skriva och rita.

jag kan inte visa att jag är arg. jag kan inte visa att jag är ledsen. det ända jag kan visa är min glädje. Allt annat stänger jag bara in tills det hittar en annan väg ut. Det kan vara att nån irriterar mig så jag blir lite arg, det kan vara att nån gör mig så ledsen att jag börjar gråta. det kan vara att jag bryter ihop. Men oftast är det att jag skär mig.

Jag vill ha ärren kvar för det påminner mig om vad jag är. Jag är ett ända stort misslyckande som inte borde finnas.   Nu ska jag försöka hitta mina blad i mitt mörka rum. jag förtänar inget ljus. Jag förtjänar inget. Not even love </3