I wrote this post originally on July 12; when I woke up on July 13, I realized how truly rough and messy this post was. I went back, deleted the original, and work to improve my post to make it meaningful and therapeutic for me.
Dear you,
I’m sorry. I hurt you in this process. I never wanted to do that.
I feel so inadequate. All I want right now is for someone to hug me and tell me it’s going to be okay. But I don’t have that. My family is at least four hours away, with some being over seven hours away. I thought my friends were there, but they aren’t. I never thought my life would get to this point. I want someone to listen.
Then the fear comes creeping in that if they do listen, all I am going to do is let them down.
I want to be free of the pain I feel in my body. I have a constant weight on my shoulders, and this little person sitting in the back of my brain telling me to break all I’ve worked for in a second. I’ve tried so hard to stay on the right path.
I feel like I’m screaming so loud, but no one hears a damn thing.
Time and time again, life has shown me people don’t care. About me, about my life, about the words I utter, any of it. I thought this was something I wouldn’t have to worry about as an adult. It started in high school, and it was a cycle. It happened, over and over again. I thought I found the people who would be there, to listen and love.
I thought my life would get better.
I thought I would be worth something.
I just want to be loved. And appreciated. And maybe in some other life, in some other place, I’ll find that love and find the people who will appreciate me.
I’m sorry.
For the first time in my life, ever, I wrote a letter. You can read that above.
It’s strange to me. Even when I’ve had a plan, even when I’ve tried to actively take myself from this world, I’ve never written a letter.
Last night, I didn’t have a plan. Yet I wrote this letter. I’m sitting here questioning what I’ve become.
Am I just going to live in this perpetual state of self-loathing? Am I going to spend my entire life hating myself? Am I going to live my entire life surrounded by people who don’t want me around? I’ve never written one before, even when I have had a plan…why did I write it now?
I sit like I’m a wallflower in every room, in every place. When I try to speak, I’m met with the little person in the back of my mind telling me I should’ve never uttered a word. I sit around with people I deeply care about, and I realize how alone I really feel.
I haven’t seen any of these people since July 3. It’s a constant of me reaching out and being met with little to no response.
Does this mean I’m surrounding myself with horrible friends? I don’t think so. To me, what it means is I’m surrounding myself with people I care more about than they care about me. Relationships and friendships should be reciprocal, yet I’m met with no responses and being ignored and start beating myself up over it.
Every breath I take, leaves me lying awake at night. My anxious, depressed brain leaves me contemplating every word I have ever said.
Shit, Sydney, that was the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.
Why would you even say that to anyone? It wasn’t funny. You’re a fucking idiot.
No wonder no one laughed. That was a stupid comment. Honestly, just stop talking. You don’t belong.
Why would anyone want to be your friend? You’re so weird. You make stupid comments. You are awkward. You don’t mesh with these people. You’re too needy. Get a fucking grip.
Two nights ago, I sat in my shower, ripping hair out of my bun, ugly crying to the point of snot coming out of my nose. I tried to reach out to my supports, and I was met,yet again, with little response. It was midnight; normal people sleep at midnight.
When I woke up, I had to force myself to get out of bed. I saw no purpose of doing that. I didn’t have plans but to sit at my desk and read all day for class. I woke up to almost no responses to my messages from the night before.
Do you ever sit by yourself and realize how completely, utterly alone you are?
Have you ever contemplated how everyone around you would have the same life if you never entered theirs? That their lives could even be better having not known you?
As I sat in the shower, I had a pair of scissors and a razor blade at the ready. They’re still sitting in the exact same place. I didn’t touch them. I didn’t disassemble the blade.
As much as I wanted to…
fuck around and
break 4 months
…I somehow convinced myself that wasn’t worth it.
I’m not actively suicidal.
That means I may feel suicidal, but I don’t have a plan. I don’t have intent.
I have no active plan, yet the thought of ending my life pops up. The feeling of inadequacy, realizing I’m alone, and acknowledging that I care too much has really hit hard. It doesn’t feel good.
Why do I feel suicidal? There seem to be many reasons, but they all come back to one theme: being inadequate to those surrounding me.
I’ve found myself recently wondering how the lives of those I consider to be my closest friends would be without me in their lives. And when I came to the conclusion, that if I take my own life, that their lives wouldn’t be any different than they are right now.
I finally began finding value in myself, without anyone else’s input, but there’s still a part of me that needs people to want me around. The feeling of constantly being inadequate is weighing harder than I feel it has ever, and I just want to feel like someone cares about my life.
Why does it hurt me this bad to see people who don’t care nearly as much have a fine time without me? I guess I thought they cared. When I had two people tell me they were thankful I was alive, on my ten year milestone since my first attempt to end my life, it hurt. I thought my life mattered more to these people than it did, than it does. That fucking sucks to realize you don’t mean as much as you thought you did.
When I look back on my friendship with these people, I feel like I should have seen somewhere the signs that I wasn’t that important. The ignored text messages. Being ignored in person. Being left out of plans. Having put my heart out on the line, and then being met with a ???? look of why-the-fuck-would-you-even-feel-that-way-because-that’s-dumb.
There are a lot of things in my life that just don’t make sense. One of the things being that when I am hurting emotionally is being shut out by others and then thinking the only friends I have are sharp objects that can hurt me physically.
It hurts that the people I thought were my closest friends turned out to not be. Two people said they were thankful I was alive in a personal message. Yet I have so many likes and comments on social media saying I have a lot of friends. If you don’t care, don’t fake it for the presence on social media. If you don’t care, just… don’t care. At all. Ever. Don’t send me messages on Tik Tok. Don’t like my posts on Instagram. Don’t tag me in things on Facebook. Just stop.
Stop being fake. Stop acting like you give a damn about my life. Be fucking honest.
I need REAL. Everyone needs REAL.
So, yeah. I’m not actively looking for a way out of my life, but I am clinging to the very small shred of hope that someone will love me for me and support me as I am. I want people around me who are going to build me up, not leave me on read when I need it most.
If you’ve read this far, remember these things.
Check in on your strong friends. Check in on your weak friends. Check in on all your friends.
If you genuinely care, show people.
Don’t fake for social media. Be real. Be authentic. Be honest. Life is messy. Everyone has moments, days, months, years… so show it. It’s unbelievable to see constant posts of you looking absolutely perfect 100% of the time.
Don’t act like you care when you don’t. Stop playing with people’s emotions.
The Spotify Playlist that made this post happen:
from the head of Sydney 