#has her own struggles. im not gonna ad to them at this point. selfish enough i am already. ive been choking on disgust all day even through

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

writing poetry sometimes feels like you gotta cut yourself open to express it idk smear all your organs all over the page and hope somebody else reads something beautiful. is that like divination the way it's expressed in various places and things? I dunno. poetry never slides off your skin like water off a duck's back. it's from within I think. sometimes you have to tear yourself apart to get at the words and sometimes it just wells up from within and gushes out. always from somewhere deep inside. sometimes it's difficult and horrible and painful but the alternative would be worse. sometimes it's from sheer joy that must overflow into words. I think that's beautiful personally. skin splitting from joy. it happens, I think, to us all at some point. or maybe I'm just a creature of extremes. maybe that online test I did because a friend recommended it is true. it said my symptoms were high. I don't know. maybe it is true, maybe it's not. I read a book once where there was a character named Nathan Hill-and-Dale, and while I'm not nearly as extreme as he was portrayed, in my extremes, I know I'm a fairly volatile person. funny, for most people who see me IRL seem to think that I'm fairly calm. nope, I'm a volcano. watch out, even when I'm apparently calm I might blow up one way or the other. one of my residents' family members said today that I was young and bubbly and she was glad to see it because happiness is the prerogative of the young. a part of me wished I told her. I have actively tried to kill myself once; I have come extremely close to the same actions countless times including yesterday; I would sooner hurt myself than others; if I had my own choice I would simply starve. of course I didn't tell her. sometimes I think I'll never get better. at this point I would consider it a very high chance that I will either die by suicide or end up in hospital following an attempt. not now, of course. but despite my fierce love for my course it has stress associated with it and I think that it's very likely that no psych help on earth would fix my mental health enough for that not to be an option mentally in this short time. I think it's possible to recover from all of the things I struggle with. God help me, I hope it is. the real question is whether I will survive long enough to recover from them. and the answer? I know not. I was reminded of a past interaction with the boy today, where he called my name - I turned - his grandfather, a photographer, was waiting to see if he could get a decent photo, for we were at a church conference and he was trying to get photos everywhere. they were laughing. I could not help but laugh. that memory is tainted now, for he would not look at me now, let alone try to pull such a stunt again. I don't blame him. I don't blame anyone for it. I wonder what would happen if I blocked all my friends on discord; who would seek me out? part of me hopes people would, another part hopes they would not. sometimes I just want to be left alone to curl up and die. it would be easier. so much easier than living, and living, and living. I tried writing poetry just now. it felt like trying to cut myself open, I couldn't get the words out. it only made me feel rather wild. I'm desperate for change, for something. something. what is that something? I don't know. did you know I'm a sadist? I would not in a public place express the thoughts that led me to that conclusion. but I am. I wish I wasn't. there's an obvious solution to that. quick, and easy. so easy. too easy. I tried writing poetry, and then instead of writing anything coherent, I wrote this.

[quinintheclouds]

Heyyyyyyyy quin, im gonna rant at you for a bit, because im fucking done with this bullshit!!! So, as of right now, my father's plan is to force me to redo freshman year, wether i want to or not(surprise surprise! i don't) He concluded this after taking one look at my grades from this year(four ds, one two as, two bs. not what i would consider good but thats not the poINT HERE) His exact words were "you are redoing your 9th grade year. its just a question of when." 1/idontfuckingknow

(Gonna paste the rest of your asks here. Tw: suicide mention)

Now, i, having already had a slightly toned-down version of this bloody conversation with my mother, did not have the patience for this shit. The following argument goes aproxxamately as follows,(this is a paraphrased version) beginning with me: "No. No, i already had this fucking conversation, im not redoing a year." "What POSSIBLE ARGUMENT COULD YOU HAVE for me to think so??" silence. "Do you ASPIRE to be a waitress?? Maybe a hairdresser" nothing. It only gets worse frome here. 2/??

"How much EFFORT DID YOU PUT INTO FUCKING THIS UP??" Now, lets stop here for a moment. What the fuck is my father, the man who's jizz became me, trying to pull? Anyway, my response was bewildered at best and full on APPALLED AND ENRAGED at worst: "you think i fucking- what makes you- I PUT EFFOR- THATS THESTUPIDESTSHITVIE EVERFUCKINGHEARD!??!!!! WHAT makes you think i DID IT ON PURPOSE??????" "THIS- *waves my report card in my face, wildly* MAKES ME THINK YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE." 3/4maybe5or6idk

Now, ive been trying, oh have i been trying, to get it through this man's head FOR YEARS, that i would never get bad grades on purpose. That should be a given right??? Anyway, he waves the paper in my face, and i (justly) had tears in my eyes. This is the angriest ive seen my father, which is saying a fucking lot, and hes about 8 inches from me, looking me DEAD IN THE FACE. And I have tears in my eyes. I was terrified, and im pretty sure i looked terrified. But did he care? mmmnotreally! 4/???

Ok, im not sure what else exactly he said(other than, sprinkled in there, that I manipulated my mother[no,] and that i 'couldve not shown up to class and still wouldntve done this bad') but either way, he walked away, saying "You WILL NOt be a sophomore at [my school] next year. we arent doing this again." *john mulaney voice* now, we don't have time to unpack all of that, If my father didn't give a shit about me before, he definitely doesn't now. This just fucking confirms it for me. 5/6

Actually, let me rephrase. He, no, BOTH of my parents don't give a shit about my mental health. They care about my grades because, if they turn out good, this tells them theyve done something right. They only give a shit about me if it benefits them, in that way or otherwise. This is what I've figured out. Honestly, i think im gonna have to tell him that ill fucking kill myself if im forced to redo freshman year. At this point, its the only way to get it through his head. 6/fuckigottadoonemore

And, at this point, im not even sure that if i said that, I'd be lying. In fuCKING conclusion, my parents do not give a shit. They don't give A SHIT, about how much BEING HELD BACK, is gonna FUCKING AFFECT ME, THEY JUST WANT MY GRADES TO BE BETTER SO THEY CAN FEEL BETTER ABOUT THEM-FUCKING-SELVES. I'm done now.

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Wow, that sounds stressful as all hell... also your parents sound like mine. I can’t stand parents who put blame on their kid for their mental health or struggles. They don’t need the burden of thinking it’s their fault ON TOP OF the burden of actually dealing with that shit! Is it possible to talk to a counselor at school about not wanting to repeat the year? Those grades qualify you to move on, don’t they? I��d be as pissed as you if my dad tried to do that. It’s your education. My parents have screamed at me about grades many a time, and I FEEL your pain. The way they’re acting is unhealthy for you, and I’m so so sorry you have to go through it. Telling you your future has no potential unless you do what they say is manipulative bullshit.

"How much EFFORT DID YOU PUT INTO FUCKING THIS UP??" OH MY GOD if I had an ant for every time my parents said this to me I could make an ant colony strong enough to take over the world. It is NOT okay. Suggesting that your work is a failure in the first place is awful, but adding in that you did it on purpose is a terrible parenting excuse because they think it reflects on them. That shit will mess you up. I still struggle to remember that me having trouble with something doesn’t make it my fault. I used to believe them and blame myself for every break I took. Playing a video game? Could’ve been studying. Reading a book? Should have asked for extra credit. All of that is ridiculous and harmful to any kid or adult. Let’s get one thing clear: it is NOT. YOUR. FAULT. And another: grades are not a measurement of effort, intelligence, or worth. They’re structured poorly and the entire school system desperately needs revamping. Your future is not doomed regardless of your grades.

Your dad saying you “'couldve not shown up to class and still wouldntve done this bad'” is ABHORRENT. Telling you that you not trying at all is better than any efforts you make is just so profoundly fucked up, pardon my French. Also, completely wrong. 

“BOTH of my parents don't give a shit about my mental health. They care about my grades because, if they turn out good, this tells them theyve done something right. They only give a shit about me if it benefits them, in that way or otherwise.“ My parents are the same way. They only care about whether something makes them look good or bad. You are NOT their trophy to show off as though your achievements are their own, and you are NOT some shameful thing for them to treat poorly. You are, always have been, and always will be, your own person. 

I’m gonna use a quote from a show that hits me really hard and I feel that every child of awful parents needs to hear. “I’m... sorry. I’m sorry your parents don’t care enough. You have every right to be angry. But you deserve to be happy.” You have been through so much, and your anger is absolutely justified. And yet, that doesn’t mean you can’t or won’t be happy. You deserve better than anger. You deserve to be happy. “And I hope you can find that... even if it’s not today.”

“Honestly, i think im gonna have to tell him that ill fucking kill myself if im forced to redo freshman year. At this point, its the only way to get it through his head. And, at this point, im not even sure that if i said that, I'd be lying.” I have been there, so I’ll be 100% honest with you. If your parents are anything like mine -- and it sounds like they are -- telling them you’ll kill yourself still won’t get through to them. In fact, it might make them take you even less seriously if they see you using it as leverage. Kids of parents that don’t take mental health seriously often drive themselves further into depression as a cry for help (not by their own fault) that’s perpetuated by never being heard. I got worse and worse (tw suicide ment) and I told my parents I was having suicidal thoughts. They just saw it as lazy and selfish and overreacting. I spiraled deeper. Then, when I made an attempt, my mom was furious, screaming at me and threatening me because I could’ve messed up her gun. “If you really want to be dead, ask me and I’ll gladly do it for you. At least I know how to use a fucking gun right.”

I could go on with the rest of that story, but I’ll sum it up by saying: I got help. I got better. I realized that if they wouldn’t care about me, I would. I knew what I was feeling was real. I knew I needed help if I wanted to survive. And now, I’ve found real happiness and more stability. Mental health issues don’t go away easily, and I know it’s not the same for everyone, but working on them is so worth it. I promise it can get better. People like to think of happiness as a long-term thing, but life will always have its ups and downs... I still have down days. I won’t pretend I don’t still have a lot to work through. But I am, finally, okay. I never knew “okay” could be the default, or how okay life could be. And it’s amazing. Happy happens a lot more now, and depression is smaller and manageable. I know you’re stuck where you are for now, and may not have access to professional help. But please... Please care about yourself, even if your parents don’t. I care about you. You deserve to, too. 

I’ve had so many moments that I felt were the last straw, that I couldn’t handle any more, that I was broken or ruined or doomed, but even then I somehow managed to survive. And I can honestly say I am so, so glad that I did. Please don’t let your parents ruin that for you. It’s not your fault for where you are. And it’s not where you’ll be forever. No matter what happens in this situation, whether it’s repeating the grade or moving on to the next, I believe that you can make it through. You are so fucking strong for making it this far. I know you might not believe me, but try to trust me. You. Deserve. Better. And even if it sucks right now, you absolutely can get there.