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It's been a minute (whoops) but I'm actually still alive. Hopefully I'll get to stay alive in 82 days. And it's not that I care about my life. But having to kill myself would mean that ___ did like they said they would. It's still in the forefront of my mind, the 100 days I was given and everything. It's been okay, though! Our friendship. I told my mom that it was fine and she disagreed.
We went on a walk yesterday, me, my mom, and my siblings. It was fun and I liked getting the steps especially since I had binged the two days before that. I'm done with that. It was immature. Anyway, during the walk she had me hand her something that's too unimportant to remember what it was and she spent and extra second looking at my left arm. Which was okay. I did this to myself.
Me and my mom also went to the store to buy a dress which I need for my French honors society induction ceremony. I can't exactly hide my darker scars in a sundress. I wasn't sure what I should do about that. I was going to be reading a poem in French with a few other students in front of about thirty people. I'll probably just wear a cardigan. I can handle that. I did this to myself. I have to keep letting myself know. It's just hard knowing that I'll have these when I'm wearing my prom dress and more importantly, my wedding dress. I wouldn't want to settle with a suit just to hide my scars. I don't mind suits, but I wanted a beautiful wedding dress. With smooth, bony, hairless, clean arms. But I can't take the scars off. I'll be okay, though. I did it to myself.
Jeez if I could just go back to the nine year old me who liked to pick at her skin in class... Maybe I could stop everything else. It's this way and there's nothing important I could have done otherwise, but it feels like it wasn't supposed to be this way. If I'm alive ten years from now, I'll have these scars. Scars I made over things that'll just seem trivial by then.
I was writing this at around 12am but I got distracted and fell asleep and then forgot about this until now so now I'm finishing it yadayada... I'm just tired. I don't really know what I'm working so hard for. I stopped caring about these things a while ago and this apathy has only grown since the only thing that mattered to me became ___'s life. They called me apathetic and I didn't want to believe it... But why would they be wrong. I've told them just about everything down to my suicide attempt in September 2023. I have reason to understand his point of view on my life. He's guessed some things about me before and he was right on the money. Like one time he asked me if I just wanted to starve until I die.
I don't know if I read into things too much or not enough. I use the wrong people as a reference point and now all of my crap is messed up. I guess I don't know much of anything. Not nearly as much as I might've thought I did.
We went on a walk yesterday, me, my mom, and my siblings. It was fun and I liked getting the steps especially since I had binged the two days before that. I'm done with that. It was immature. Anyway, during the walk she had me hand her something that's too unimportant to remember what it was and she spent and extra second looking at my left arm. Which was okay. I did this to myself.
Me and my mom also went to the store to buy a dress which I need for my French honors society induction ceremony. I can't exactly hide my darker scars in a sundress. I wasn't sure what I should do about that. I was going to be reading a poem in French with a few other students in front of about thirty people. I'll probably just wear a cardigan. I can handle that. I did this to myself. I have to keep letting myself know. It's just hard knowing that I'll have these when I'm wearing my prom dress and more importantly, my wedding dress. I wouldn't want to settle with a suit just to hide my scars. I don't mind suits, but I wanted a beautiful wedding dress. With smooth, bony, hairless, clean arms. But I can't take the scars off. I'll be okay, though. I did it to myself.
Jeez if I could just go back to the nine year old me who liked to pick at her skin in class... Maybe I could stop everything else. It's this way and there's nothing important I could have done otherwise, but it feels like it wasn't supposed to be this way. If I'm alive ten years from now, I'll have these scars. Scars I made over things that'll just seem trivial by then.
I was writing this at around 12am but I got distracted and fell asleep and then forgot about this until now so now I'm finishing it yadayada... I'm just tired. I don't really know what I'm working so hard for. I stopped caring about these things a while ago and this apathy has only grown since the only thing that mattered to me became ___'s life. They called me apathetic and I didn't want to believe it... But why would they be wrong. I've told them just about everything down to my suicide attempt in September 2023. I have reason to understand his point of view on my life. He's guessed some things about me before and he was right on the money. Like one time he asked me if I just wanted to starve until I die.
I don't know if I read into things too much or not enough. I use the wrong people as a reference point and now all of my crap is messed up. I guess I don't know much of anything. Not nearly as much as I might've thought I did.