#tw sui ment

[vampirepiss]

i'm gonna (remembers suicide jokes are no good for my mental health) go higher. I'M PISSING ON THE MOON

[exmotranny]

the green carpet scratches at your pink heels. bile rises in your throat.

they talk about womanhood- but it’s not quite right. there is the pink and compliments and talk of boys

i am a beloved daughter

but there is also something else. it digs at your flesh, it feasts on your skin. your mother motions at your chest, bigger than hers and you're not even done growing yet! how lucky.

of heavenly parents

you pray to a man every night, finish it in another’s name. on your knees. you were sent a shady link as a kid. the woman on her knees, tears streaming out of her eyes, i don't want this, she said

with a divine nature and eternal destiny

blood on the inside of your underwear. you were told this meant you were a woman now. you were ten years old. what the fuck did you know about being a woman? your mom said you weren’t allowed to touch between your legs, but it's normal to want to. you didn't know what that meant, either.

as a disciple of jesus christ,

you wanted to be desired. you daydreamed of being the trophy for boys around you, of claiming that role one day as a wife. you came from a long line of women married young. you don’t know their names, but you were taught about their husbands in church.

i strive to become like him.

pressing your breasts down as much as possible, trying to give the illusion of a flat chest. badly cropped jpgs of jesus photoshopped to have top surgery scars are the secret currency you pay to get past the hours of church. you hold them like diamonds.

i seek and act upon personal revelation

you thought god was talking to you. you almost threw away everything you owned. you thought you were a prophet. total fuckin’ ego death! holy shit! god speaks through me!

and minister to others in his holy name

and then the next morning. when your faith crashed, when moroni abandoned you, did it feel unreal to you too, joseph?

i will stand as a witness of god

oh god, no. please. i don’t know what’s real anymore.

at all times

leg hair peeking from under your pretty sunday dress. they all stare. you ignore them and open up to D&C 132.

and in all things

emma, did you love him to the end? i don’t think you wanted him. did you watch as he married a 14 year old? did you tell him you burned the commandment? did you cry when he died for the church that he loved more than he loved you?

and in all places.

blood on the floor of carthage jail. this martyr will be remembered forever. do they talk about you, emma? or are you just joseph’s wife?

as i strive to qualify for exaltation,

when i marry, my husband will be a god, and i shall cleave onto him. when i marry, i will go to his universe and bear more of his children.

i cherish the gift of repentance

heads bowed low as the sacrament is passed. my hands clutch onto the bottom of my skirt. pleasure outside celestial marriage is forbidden. i apologize for loving the wrong way.

and seek to improve each day

i tried to kill myself, last time i got home from girl’s camp. i got home and cried and found the pills and shoved them into my mouth until i cried more and more until i was gagging. i hunched over the toilet. my hands on the grimy floor.

with faith, i will

forced to sing in front of the congregation. my head spun from anxiety. my stomach turned with nausea.

strengthen my home and family,

loving wife beautiful kids loyal husband church once a week work weekdays weekend mom monthly round on the business end of his cock forever and the vomit threatens to make an appearance.

make and keep sacred covenants,

an old man is in a room alone with me. he asks me if i masturbate.

and receive the ordinances and blessings

i tell the man no. i receive a card so i can be ordained.

of the holy temple.

that's just how it goes, isn't it?

all around are paintings of god and jesus. we learned about heavenly mother. why don’t i see her in paintings? did god have plural marriages? did heavenly mother make us? why don’t we pray to her? did she watch god marry a 14 year old? did she cover her eyes? when she saw blood on her underwear, was she told she was a woman? did she touch between her legs? did she ever believe herself better than god? does she cry when she cant talk to us? why do i cry? was heavenly mother scared of singing in public and did she press her chest flat and did she cry when god forced himself into her mouth? did she burn his doctrine too?

i am given flowers on mother’s day. i will be one eventually, after all. and i vomit in the church bathroom quietly like the perfect woman i am supposed to be.

[dimonds456]

It is not okay to speculate whether or not someone is suicidal. If they claim to be, you should 100% take that shit seriously and give them the benefit of the doubt.

That said, if someone is using their own suicidality as a weapon to gain sympathy, emotionally manipulate someone, or to push other people down, GENUINELY fuck that person. While it's not okay for us to doubt that statement just because they're weaponizing it, that also doesn't mean we need to ALLOW that manipulation to convince us of something.

If you feel the need to use your terrible mental health as a step-stool in a conversation to make your side more heard than the other, you need to take a step back and re-evaluate yourself. And I am saying this as someone who ALSO has shit mental health and has been in the trenches with it before. I get it. I understand. But also STOP.

It's tempting to want to save your own ass over recognizing where you've gone wrong, but just a word of advise: recognizing where you've gone wrong WILL save your ass and give you better mental health and wisdom down the line.

However, emotionally manipulating people absolutely will not.

[xdistantskies]

Czernin twins AU

Au where Louis is actually a real person. And is in fact Matthias' twin brother. Louis is the star child, their parents put him on a pedestal as he is more successful and entertaining than Matthias. And because of their favoritism for Louis, Matthias is forgotten, even forgetting he is their son and acts like Louis is their only child.

While Louis is a bit stuck-up and spoiled, he is able to recognize that his sibling is being mistreated and neglected. He doesn't hate Matthias, in fact he tries very hard to make time for him despite his busy schedule. Being a family of puppeteers, Louis is the main star, so he is almost always busy. But when he tries to talk to Matthias, Matt pushes him away. Matt envies Louis and has a silent hatred for him, and perhaps he even fears him as he is so successful and liked by everyone. Matthias is intimidated by him.

When they were younger they used to be best friends, best siblings, inseparable. When their family had gone broke and suffered through poverty, they were always at each others side, comforting one another. But when their family turned to puppeteering and entertainment, and they grew increasingly successful, everything changed. They grew apart as Louis was made the star of the show and Matthias was left forgotten in the dark. And that's when Matthias' hatred grew.

Matthias was abandoned by not only his brother, but his entire family. But the feeling of his twin abandoning him hurt far more than his parents, no he didn't care about his parents anymore. But his brother...his brother. :((

Perhaps to line up with the OG storyline, Matthias loses his mind and attempts to burn their house down and kill himself and the rest of his family. Despite his plans him and his twin both end up surviving the fire, but their parents didnt. Louis sustains more serious injuries than Matthias. About 30% of his body was burned, him surviving was a miracle... Now he is confined to a hospital bed, and Matthias is able to go see him. Louis feels nothing but fear when Matthias walks into the room, deep inside he knew it was Matt who started to fire and killed their parents, attempted to kill him. But he doesn't tell... Matthias knows he knows.

Matthias' eyes have become so soulless, any empathy he had left is gone. With Louis powerless and weak, Matthias is in control now, he can control him as he likes, torment him, and he wouldn't be able to speak a word.

Eventually they would both be sent to a new home, Louis would be under Matthias' care as he tries to heal. Louis doesn't truly deserve the torment that Matthias has in store for him. Because he too was abused in a way, he was nothing but a money horse for his parents, he was only treated kindly because he brought them fame and money. He never got to be a normal kid, he was always working and continued to work well into adulthood.

They were both victims of different kinds of abuse.

I'd like to believe that this au leads to them understanding each other again and forgiving each other, but at the same time i want it to end tragically. Perhaps they perform a double suicide

[st4rrl1ghtwastaken]

im selfish??

…ok guess ill kill myself

[tittiedshrek]

God, as a person who HAS been hospitalized before for attempting suicide, just seeing James randomly traumadump on his fucking audience to gain sympathy pisses me off to no end. I am not doubting that he has attempted or insinuating that he is lying - that is fucking gross first of all and secondly, I can understand that being the weekly "internet villian of the week" can come with harassment. Perhaps even worse harassment because he is gay and a member of a historically marginalized community. At the same time, it is EQUALLY as gross to use your attempt as a way to garner sympathy when you get called out for problematic behavior. It's manipulative, cheapens the topic, and makes everyone else who has struggled like myself look like selfish attention seekers.

I can understand that someone can feel so guilty/sad about what they have done that they can resort to self-harm, but that is a personal problem that needs to be dealt with OUTSIDE of the internet in therapy. It's not the fault of your audience, Nick, Hbomberguy, Kat, etc. that you ended up in the hospital, and it is irresponsible as a creator to have that be the FIRST thing you talk about in your "apology" video and have that hang over their heads. You can't say that you're not trying to make this into a sob story, then take advantage of your audience's parasocial relationship with you to make them feel bad for being disappointed in you.

I don't want James to die, I really don't. No one deserves to find themselves in such a state of mind, and I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy. I do, however, want him to stay off the internet completely until he recognizes the harm he has caused to the LGBTQIA+ community and he gets in a better headspace so that he can actually make amends to everyone he has stolen from and hurt.

[pro-gamer-berdly]

I made this and I think it might only be funny to me but I don't CARE

[casawio]

love wins!

[grapemoon]

Chibita to Iyami in episode 13 of osomatsu kun

[cringelordofchaos]

How I interperet some roles in flicker (part 1?) - Investigator

I might do more of this but I was recently thinking about the angst potential of being an investigator (classic flicker.) Specifically an investigator that accidentally accuses too many people. Because, just imagine

Your votes matter twice as much. YOUR suspicions on who the murderer is is seen as more important than anyone elses'. A decent amount of things depend on you.

But I imagine it could give the investigator some pressure, and good lord would it bring some guilt. Every vote of yours counts, your intelligence and ability to recognize the murderer is important, your voice is public. But if you mess up? If you wrongfully accuse someone who's innocent as a murderer, although everyone trusted you? Man, it's all your fault.

People are reliant on your decisions more. Some people may even simply blindly follow your accusations, even though you know you may be incorrect. And you may,and will mess up.

You will mess up. And the thing is, peoples' lives and safety depend on you. You can't AFFORD messing up, even though everyone messes up every once in a while, you can't. Because if YOU wrongfully judge someone innocent, their blood is now on your hands. It's all your fault. You should've been smarter, you should've been less accusatory, even though you know that if you don't accuse anyone the murderer might stay in the game for even longer.

Guilt and shame will take over you fully, you were put in a position of charge and you exploited it, you ruined it, it is all your fault.

If you accuse too many wrong people, trust issues will ensue. And I'm not talking about issues of trusting other people (because I imagine everyone, regardless of their role would get them) I'm talking about issues with trusting yourself, your own judgement.

Why were you chosen for this role anyway?

You start to doubt yourself, your ability to forsee, your intelligene, your ability, perhaps your morals.

Hell, with time, if you accuse too many innocent people and they all get voted out because of your accusations, you might even start considering yourself as the murderer.

You are a murderer.

You are the murderer.

Once you've eliminated as much people while lights were on as the murderer has killed people while the lights were off, are you really any better?

The difference is, people trust you, they trust your gut. But you fail them.

Are you manipulating them?

.

.

.

Of course, none of these things are necessarily true - the investigator I'm talking about has never meant to hurt anyone, they only ever so tried helping others - but as more pressure is put on to them by themselves, they continue to mess up.

The goddamn guilt of it all.

They can only hope that Eventually, the murderer will kill someone. Someone that deserves it just as much as the murderer.

the investigator. the investigator that messes up too many times.

Because only god knows how many people would still be here if it weren't for their mistakes.

If only people didn't trust them as much.

[vampirepiss]

how to explain to my mom that years of forcibly living as a woman has made me wanna overdose on rat poison without mentioning the suicide part...

[at-the-end-of-time]

This is a dark premise. What made you want to write something like this? /noff

First off, I'm stealing /noff from you, I haven't heard that one before jfndnd

Second, I will put below the cut cuz this one's a bit heavy.

I've struggled with things like death and my place in the world for a while. I like to think I know who I am, what I'm about, and what I want to do, but I also know that I'm capable of so much more, y'know? So do I persue storytelling like I've always wanted, or become a biologist? I know I'd enjoy both paths, but which one is more fulfilling?

Not to mention, I've been outrunning death from some of my own earliest memories. One of my most formative memories is in one of those pools where lifeguards can control how big the waves are, and I followed my dad to a deeper part of the pool to get his attention. When he didn't even realize I was there, I pushed further, until the waves grew too much and I couldn't touch the bottom. I remember the feeling of water filling my lungs. I woke up on my side, and my parents were filling out paperwork with the lifeguards. Whoops.

I've got so many bad experiences 🥽 ng that it's a wonder I'm not afraid of water. In fact, swimming is still one of my favorite activities.

In middle school, I got diagnosed with Graves Disease. First of all, great name /sar. Second, mine was so severe that my resting BPM was 160. Granted, I was in middle school, so that's not TOO bad, but even still a normal resting BPM would have been between 120 and 140. My running BPM got up to 230, sometimes 240!

I'm finally out living it now in my 20's, but I thought I'd have this stupid disease for life.

Also in middle school, I became clinically depressed, which spanned into high school and even made me suicidal for a bit. I made it, but it was gruelling.

In 2023, for my creative writing class in college, I wrote an ode to death that, when voiced, is about 8 minutes long. Still one of my best works.

Throughout everything, I've always been morbidly fascinated with the idea of death. If not dead today, right now, what would that mean? What would happen? Exploring those thoughts has sometimes been terrifying, and other times comforting. Terrifying because I'm worried I'll have missed my shot, and comforting because I know I'd be missed, y'know?

This particular story came to mind because of modern politics and the 5 different genocides happening globally. Why can people just stand by? How? When the greenhouse gases kill the earth, is it possible to escape? Will Earth recover?

And from there, I just combined the two.

Existentialism, fear, love, terror, death- all things I'm fascinated by in different ways, combined into one giant exploration of what it means to be alive. How DO you find the will to keep living when, ultimately, nothing matters? The ship WILL be sucked into the black hole. You can't outrun death forever. So do you just give up and surrender to it, or do you keep fighting for as long as possible? Why should you?

All that and more, I guess.

[cringefailfagcat]

gonna vomit i literally heard a persons body hit the front of a moving train

[autistic-ranpo]

i have unfortunately decided not to kill myself 🗣️ very sorry to everyone but you will have to deal with me for the next while

[st4rrl1ghtwastaken]

people would miss me? wtf. now i cant kill myself.

[dimonds456]

hi guys.

MASSIVE CW/TW for medical misconduct, strong language, disability, talk of Death and dying, transphobia / enbyphobia, and personal drama below the cut. I genuinely have no clue what to do anymore.

Also no, this isn't gonna be me asking for money or anything. I'm fine there. It's literally everything else that's the problem.

also long post.

Okay, I'm terrified and I don't know what to do or who to talk to. I keep forgetting to call my doctor, and I'm also actively trying to find a new, different doctor, but every single site to do that is either down or inaccessible as fuck. He won't answer me on the website that's supposed to let you get in touch with your doctor, and as far as I know there's no way to report him for anything he's doing to me.

I have a paper trail now and will be calling him Dr K, since he refers to himself like that in one of the screenshots I have.

For a bit of backstory, I have Graves Disease. Fucking love the name, great choice. Graves Disease is a sub-genre of hyperthyroidism, a typically genetic disease in which your thyroid- a butterfly-shaped gland located at the front of the throat that regulates your metabolism- starts over-producing hormones and doesn't stop. I've had it since middle school.

Here they are in all their glory. For context on how bad this shit can get, my RESTING heart rate BPM was around 100. When I started running around, it got up OVER 200. THAT'S ENOUGH TO GIVE SOMEONE A HEART ATTACK. I was in middle school at the time, so adjust for how much smaller my body was, but STILL. Still terrible numbers, and I was literally in grave danger by the time I got treated.

(wow i love that its called graves disease haha such a funny name WHO NAMED THIS DISEASE I JUST WANNA FUCKING TALK)

So, since I'm 20, it's safe to assume I have the lifelong/chronic variant at this point (it festered for at least 6 months before I started getting treatment, and though it has gotten a bit better with time, not by much).

I don't care if I have to be on meds forever, that's not the problem. The problem is everything else.

Enter my two doctors, Dr M and Dr K.

Dr M was first, he was my childhood doctor and he's the one who originally started treating me. I don't remember much about him, just that he frustrated me constantly because he never listened. I'd tell him that my symptoms got worse after he lowered my dosage, and instead of talking to me about that, he'd point at a chart full of numbers that I don't understand and say "well your numbers look good so." and then proceed to continue lowering my dosage again until it because obvious to him that I was telling the truth, in which he'd up my dosage.

Now, as a kid, I was very much not outspoken. I still am not. I've never been very pushy about anything and always let people walk all over me, so I only really ever got listened to when the "numbers" started to reflect what I was saying. And yeah, my self-confidence it a whole other conversation and I do need to work on that, but also... part of being a doctor is to listen to your patient, right? So no matter how quiet or afraid I was, I should still have been heard out and treated like a person and not a goddamn statistic.

Then, I turned 18. I had until I was 19 to find an "adult" doctor, and Dr M kept seeing me until that could happen. But I had no idea how the fuck to do that. And no one explained it to me. I needed to be sat down and shown exactly how to do it step-by-step, but that never happened. I never got the help I needed.

April 7th, 2022, I turned 19 years old. Time was up, and I still didn't have a different doctor. I had no clue where to start.

I was living on my own now. I had an apartment I'd been staying in for a little less than a year, had a terrible home life with my roommates, had a 3rd shift 10 and a half-hour job + college, and no new doctor. I got one last prescription refill from Dr M, and then that was it. I wasn't allowed to see him anymore.

I kept putting off finding a new doctor because I was preoccupied with The Horrors™, something else that traumatized me last year that lasted from November 2021 to late October 2022. It went on for a literal year and I still haven't recovered from it at all, but again, that's a whole other can of worms that I cannot open yet. But the point is that I was in the mental warzone at the time, and just... never thought about a new doctor.

July 2022.

My 3 months of prescription were over. I was on the wrong dosage, and my symptoms were flaring up. BAD. And I still didn't have a doctor. Time to panic. I don't remember what happened, but my dad was able to help me find a doctor named Dr K, and we set up an appointment- 3 days before the last of my meds would have run out.

I just had to make it til then, then everything would be okay, right? I wasn't going to die- I wasn't going to die. I had to hold onto that. i wasn't going to die.

I saw him, he was able to get me on proper meds, and my dosage was upped from half a pill twice a day to 2 pills twice a day. MUCH better, it helped a lot. Thank fuck, I'm not going to die.

I thought that, maybe, finally, I got a doctor who would listen. But he doesn't. He fucking doesn't. He does the exact same thing as Dr M and only looks at "the numbers" and doesn't listen to what I'm telling him.

Fast forward to now. I am still processing The Horrors™, have (C?)PTSD, I have a new eating disorder that not even the doctors are sure wtf it is (might be ARFID? But they genuinely have no idea, I'm in a weird grey area, so THAT'S comforting), I have new weakness in my legs and arms that they don't know how that got there, I've fallen 3 times, and Graves Disease gave me an eye disease that can make me go blind if untreated. Awesome.

...Dr K still isn't listening.

My most recent appointment with him was last month, when I went to get a normal follow-up. Apparently they forgot to do labs for his stuff and just did them for my eating disorder, so he doesn't really have much to go off of in terms of "the numbers" and I'm the one who takes the blame for it, not the labwork people who forgot to take my labs while I was there getting labs. Fine. Whatever.

I tell him about my symptoms flaring back up, and he continues going on about my "numbers". Points at a graph I can't read. "Your numbers look fine." What does that mean? Idk, he didn't tell me.

During that visit, he brought up with me that I want to have top surgery. I say yes, and then he starts going off about how I need to start HRT before they can do the surgery. I ask why, and he tells me that it's just how they do things. I have to be on HRT for at least 6 months before I can get the surgery I want.

Now, I am transmasc (nonbinary). I am not against HRT, but it's not something I'm sure I want yet. I tell him as such, and he then states that "well since you're still confused, you should talk to a therapist first and then we'll go from there." BITCH I'M NOT CONFUSED. I JUST DON'T WANT HRT RIGHT NOW. I have 50 other medical problems to worry about, I'm not in a good position to start it even IF I WANTED TO. WHICH I DO NOT. I just know I want the surgery! That's it!

I tell him as such, and he keeps insisting that I'm just confused in what I want and basically said that I'm not trans enough to warrant a surgery if I don't want HRT.

Great. Well, now I'm pissed.

Two days later, I hopped onto a Discord server and asked if I was right in thinking that what he said was wrong, and everyone agreed that yeah, what he told me was fucked up. I even brought this up with my parents, who- although they do support me as an individual- are mildly transphobic, and even THEY agreed that what he told me was fucked up. I should not be FORCED into anything like that because I'm "not trans enough," that's BULLSHIT.

Anyway. At the end of my original visit with him, he sent me to get the labwork done same-day and then told me he would update me with what we were going to do.

Last Thursday, August 3rd, I got a phone call saying that he was canceling my prescription altogether.

My meds, which- as a reminder- SAVED ME FROM DYING LAST YEAR, which I know for a FACT I need to live since I was on death's doorstep just for being on the wrong dosage of these meds- yeah fuck em. You don't need them. "Your numbers are good."

The goal has been to ween me off. Slowly but surely reduce my pills a little at a time to slowly ween my body off the medication. I'm taking 30 mg a day. THIS IS NOT WEENING.

Now, I do make a comment I'm not proud of in the following screenshot, but the context is that I had already asked what the numbers meant and got brushed aside for it, both as a kid AND a teenager. I am now 20. So, of course, the "I'm not a kid anymore" thing pops up here, like the fucking cliche that I am. But I have not edited these screenshots except to blot out my picture. I refuse to edit them, just so it's crystal clear the BULLSHIT I'm dealing with.

I went onto the website and sent my doctor some questions, because I was rightfully afraid of what would happen if I suddenly couldn't take medication that I need to live. And the answer I got? Well, look.

I just took these screenshots as I was making this post.

Yeah, so ignoring the "I'm not a kid anymore" comment (I knew I would regret writing that and I did it anyway, go me), I feel like I was professional and careful with my wording here, right? I asked each question and explained why I was asking in-depth in hope of answers. And, I numbered those questions to ensure all 4 got addressed. And all I got was MORE questions.

And he never answered. That was August 7th. It's the 10th now. And I'm suffering. My symptoms are coming back more and more each day, and I've been trying desperately to ween myself off of meds so it's not the literal sudden change that he wants for my body. And also like, I'm sorry but am I reading this right? WHAT THE FUCK DOES "NORMAL HYPERTHYROIDISM RANGE" MEAN?? DO YOU WANT ME TO GET WORSE? RESET ME BACK TO ZERO? UNDO ALL THE PROGRESS I'VE MADE? CUZ ITS WORKING.

Sitting here writing this, my thyroid hurts. I can feel the swelling going up. You can hold it between two fingers now. I'm in pain when you tug on it in a certain direction, which used to be a comforting motion of mine. My resting BPM is going back up fast, the swelling behind my eyes is getting worse (which, again, COULD MAKE ME GO BLIND), and I was super reliant on my cane for balance today, not just the weakness in my knee/hip region that I'd been using it for. I'm getting worse FAST.

I am no stranger to Death. Honestly, my relationship with Death has gone from fearful to almost friendly over time. I feel like we know each other well, they and I. After nearly drowning at age 7, I feel like we've built a pretty uncommonly close relationship with each other. I've looked into the void, it looked back, shook its head and told me to try again. Many times. Not many other people can say that.

Death has given me many chances. I keep getting lucky. But, y'know, after dancing with Death for the majority of my life and being visited by them at least twice a year at this point, you'd think I'd start to figure out the steps to keep up with them, right? Well, you underestimate my ability to dance, ever. All it takes is a touch, and Death will have me.

"Just get a new doctor!" I still don't know how, and when I want to try? The website was down (which isn't the same website as the one I use to talk to Dr K, it's a completely different site).

"Call the office and keep calling them until you get answers!" A) phone calls are scary, B) the nurses aren't going to have the answers I need, only the doctors will, and C) you can't just call your doctor, not in this fucking day and age. If I want an appointment, I gotta book it out by months.

This morning, all I had was a half a pill. I'm running low on meds, and I'm trying to take them only as needed, and with as little as possible, to preserve them for as long as I can. But with all this happening, I... I want to take another half, but that would do more harm in the end than good since I'd have less for later. My dad suggested a Tylenol, since my throat is inflamed and that might make the swelling go down (but it wouldn't address the issue in that my thyroid is making far more hormones than it should be). So now I have to choose.

I had a panic attack over this earlier. I looked up to pick up a box from a tall shelf and fell backwards- the same thing that finally convinced my parents that something might actually have been wrong with me and got me to see a doctor 6 months too late originally. Only difference is that there's no broken plate this time. All I did was look up and I stumbled backwards into the wall.

I don't want to die. Oh, stars, I don't want to die. But they're not going to refill my prescription, and I'm 86% sure my doctor is doing this on purpose because of the trans thing (you could hear it in his tone, but that's not really proof of anything). He won't explain himself, and then proceeded to ignore me when I asked for answers. I need a new doctor, but I don't know how to get one, and the website is STILL DOWN.

I'm fucked. I'm actually fucked.

Death has been kind to me before. I just have to trust that they'll be kind to me again. And I know personifying something like Death is fucking stupid but it's all I have left at this point.

I don't want to die, stars I don't. Been there done that. I just want to feel okay. I just want to feel safe. But in this body, I'll never feel safe. My Graves will never go away, and my throat is closing up what with the inflamation, and I'm in pain, and my eyes hurt, and my eating disorder keeps taking more and more away from me, and I could barely make it through fucking mini golf earlier, so how the fuck am I going to go back to work like this?! They're going to fire me, and then what? Do I just lay down and die?! Let it happen? Because if THIS is all my life is going to be, fighting just for the right to be alive from the people who are SUPPOSED to be helping me STAY alive, then what is the fucking point?!

I should clarify; I am not suicidal. I DON'T WANT TO DIE. I just want to feel okay. Please, stars, that's all I want. I just want to feel safe. I just want to feel loved. I just want to feel happy. I just want to feel like it all meant something, that I can push through and use my own suffering to lift others up so they don't have to suffer like I did. The point is to ease other's suffering as much as I can. That's all I've ever wanted. But all I do is bring others down with me, because of things that are out of my control.

i'm tired. i'm hot. i'm hungry. i can't eat. i'm angry. i'm emotionless. i'm exhausted. i'm cold. i feel sick. i'm in pain. i'm numb. i just want it to be over. i want to push through. i want to give in. i want it all to stop. i want to feel safe.

...I'm gonna try the Tylenol. I can't afford to take any more of my meds.

hah, i'm like doug from portal. save em for the end times.

I just... what if my dad is right and this is all in my head? Like, it's fucking not, I can FEEL the inflamation getting bigger both on my skin and in my throat, but... what if? What if all of this is just anxiety? What if this is all just a result of my trauma from last year? fuck man, idk. i need help, and not even my therapist knows how to give it to me. i'm lost. i don't know who to talk to or who can help me.

im sorry. I'm still going to try to make as positive an impact as I can while I'm still here, but... stars, I just don't know how much time I have.

If you made it this far, take a second and count your blessings, okay? Take the time to wave to friendly faces of your past, remember things you did and people you've met. Remember your favorite childhood bookseries, or your favorite TV show. Appreciate the people closest to you. Hug your pet. Hug your siblings. Send your guardians a text appreciating them for the good memories they've given you, if you can.

Breathe. You're alive. Somehow, someway... you're alive. And isn't that wonderful? To defy the very nature of science that we still don't understand, to plant your feet on the ground and go "no, I'm here and I am alive and I live for myself"? That's incredible.

I'm alive, too. By stars I'm alive. And I'm not gonna go anywhere until I'm forced from this earth kicking and screaming. And I'm gonna try my goddamn best to make sure that every day is as good as it can be, for everyone around me. For myself.

Fuck it, we only have so much time. We gotta make the best of it, eh? Good memories. I want to go thinking about good memories. Laughter. Friends.

Maybe that could be enough.