11/23/08
Usually, it just seems futile. Everything I do lacks a real point.
I fucking hate everything about myself. Everything. I wish I would just fucking die.
But that will happen soon enough. I’ve been committing suicide for years. Someday it will catch up with me, and then…then I’ll only want to live.
I have never been good enough. Words, as usual, fail me.
You project soooo much negativity onto yourself and others. And, it’s all a lie of the mind:( But I understand. When those who were supposed to care, didn’t, it made you feel worthless and invisible. I don’t blame you for wanting to stop the pain. So far, I haven’t read anything about physical activity. Have you ever tried to out walk or run the feeling of needing to cut? Endorphins are like love.
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I have a musican friend whose father not only stoopidly lost the family home, but the lush mountain that had been in the family for generations. Kurt dealt with this by walking, walking, walking, walking in the woods. Teaching himself guitar. Sometimes howling at night in the woods. But, walking, writing, walking, writing. He was devestated by that loss for 3 years.
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