It's been a while. I know. A part of me feels sorry about that, but there wasn't really much I could talk about. You know how these things go: same shit, different days.
I'm still struggling to pass these bloody exams, and to make the boy believe that I'm not so hopeless as we both know.
I'm letting my self go.
I constantly feel to weak to do anything, anything at all. My house is a mess, my diet is a mess and the only thing I seem to be able to do is curling under the blanket, pretending I'm back in a sort of fetal condition, pretending that I can start all over again, that I'm safe, that my life isn't the sad cluster of failures I have actually collected.
I keep eating, but I'm sick. I eat to gain the little energy to study a little bit, but there's not much point in that.
I feel so ashamed of my self.
Gained two kg, so now I'm back to 55. I reckon this could have been a lot worse, considering the massive amount of food I had been eating, but it's still a failure.
Every time I look at the mirror I just want to cry and shout so much, but I find my mouth unable to make a sound and feelings of deep despair and frustration hunt me in my dreams, making it hard to sleep.
Yesterday I and the boy got drunk. I was trying to get rid of my new suicidal thoughts, which culminate in the image of a dead, naked and bruised me, with a big "FAIL" written in blood on my forehead: the defacement and humiliation I deserve.
Te boy was desperately trying to forget how hopeless his girlfriend is and how useless he feels about it.
The whole thing ended up with 5 emptied bottle of wine and both throwing up pretty much everywhere.
At one point the boy began to cry.
"why do you want to leave me?...Sometimes you are so happy and then all of a sudden so sad...why don't you let me help you? Don't do this to me...please...please..."
My BPD is getting worse, if that is even possible, that is. I'm lacking the control I desperately need to pursuit. My mood insanely swings from pure euphoria and suicidal attempts.
And the more I realize how much I'm hurting him, how much I'm hurting everybody, the easier it is to indulge by that window and to cover my body of cuts.
I really don't know what to do anymore.
I'm so sick of this.
I feel there's no way out.
Dieting, dieting, loosing weight, feeling miserable... I look back at my life and I see pure darkness. I think about all the time I wasted, all the time that will never come back. I don't want to keep looking back and see darkness, but I'm apparently unable to bring light to my life enough to leave a considerable trace of it.
I know I'm ungrateful. I know things for me could be a lot worse, and then probably too many things are too easy. I don't deserve this, I don't deserve anything.
People contact me asking why I disappeared. I'm getting tired of putting up improbable stories and I'm beginning to simple avoid every contact.
I wish I was a good person, but I guess that it simply not in my nature.
I swear that the only reason why I'm here is that the boy will end up blaming himself for all his life if I end it all.
But, on the other hand, I wonder if that wouldn't still be better that turning his life into a living hell.
I don't know.
I just feel so empty, and I admit in shame that this frustrates me, and I try to feel me up with food not to think about that emptiness.
I can't focus on anything. I can't even think properly anymore.
I only know that all this is wrong. I know that I'm not supposed to be here. At one point I must have taken a wrong turn or something...but I don't know if there's any way to fix this.
All the days are just of the same gray.
And the temptation of turning everything black gets stronger and stronger.
The pale ambition of weighting 45 kg for my 19th birthday in not so appealing.
I will be a skinny failure, but still a failure.
And when something doesn't work anymore, even if you feel somehow close to it, the time will arrive when you have to get rid of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment