e-learning and idk what to title this 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣

⚠️self harm and a bunch of other shit⚠️

I’m scared. But not of other people or things, really, I’m scared of myself.

I’m 14, almost 15, and school has been online because of coronavirus. I’m gonna try and explain what’s going on in my head rn because I can’t keep it locked up.

Every teacher is giving so much homework. I think they all think they’re the only one giving homework. But I’m not going to complain about homework this whole time.

I’ve been trying to do it all and deep down I know that I can but I just can’t. I don’t know how else to put it. My mom came into my room today because she got an email from my teacher about doing the work and she said “I know it’s easy to sit around all day and do nothing” but the thing is, sitting around doing nothing, knowing that I have things to do is the hardest fucking thing in the world, but every time I try to do the work I end up staring at my emails for 30 minutes before laying down and doing nothing again. I haven’t even started my art project that is due in 12 days.

I just feel numb. I’ve tried reading things that used to make me cry and watching things that used to make my heart clench and doing things that used to make me happy but it just doesn’t work. Like everything is in shades of gray. Music all sounds the same, art all feels the same.

I was staring at my wall for a few minutes and for a terrifying moment I thought “it would be nice if I just died. Then I wouldn’t have to feel. Life is so long and every day is the same, death would be a new experience. A good experience” I scared myself. I’m scarring myself.

When I was 12 or 13 I sliced my leg open with a pencil sharpener razor because I wanted to feel pain. I remember what it felt like to do that. I remember being ashamed of myself. But I 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦. And there’s a little part of my brain telling me that if I just picked up that knife, I could feel again. I could feel 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 again. And I’m scared. I’ve never felt so compelled before. After I did it the first time I vowed to myself that I would never do it again. But. What if I do? What if I do something impulsive. I’m scared.

I know what you are all going to tell me I have and I know what Google has told me, but it’s so hard to accept. It’s honestly my worst nightmare. I’m becoming the very thing that hurt me. I have so much internalized hatred for depression because I had a friend who verbally abused and manipulated me and used his depression and self harm as his main gaslighting topic.

I should be over it because I friend broke up with him over a year ago, but we were friends for upwards of two years. I lost so much because of him. I can’t even watch some of my favorite tv shows without thinking about the fact that he watched them too. I want to hug people but whenever someone touches me all I can feel are his cold, clammy, weirdly long fingers on my back and awkward arms around my body. Whenever I see someone with blue or red hair (his hair when I knew him, it’s different now) or hear my phone buzz, I always have a mini heart attack thinking “what if it’s him”. Sometimes if I’m just sitting eating cereal or whatever, I can see him in the corner of my vision. Or if I’m trying to sleep, I might smell the inside of his house. Sometimes I even have dreams about him. And it’s s c a r y.

I feel like I’m hiding. And I feel alone. I like girls a little more than I should. And I understand that’s normal but I can’t help feeling out of place in my own home and with the people I love. My parents are straight and grew up in the late 70s and 80s, so every so often I hear a homophobic joke and get hella uncomfortable. My sister is straight, and has a boyfriend and is the cupid of the family, constantly trying to get me to date boys. And my brother is 11 and still plays roblox and calls things he doesn’t like “gay”. I feel like I don’t belong and it doesn’t help with all that other stuff.

I haven’t told my family about any of this because I’m scared of what they’ll do. I feel like they’ll look at me differently. I’m supposed to be the strong one. I can’t tell my dad for sure. And I know that because one time I had lipstick swatches on my arm and he saw and thought they were something else so he yanked my arm so hard it left a real mark. And he isn’t abusive in any way, that was the only time he ever did anything like that to me, but he unintentionally created a place for me to never feel comfortable talking about self harm with him. And I can’t tell my mom because, even though I know she cares about me, the moment I tell her she would immediately see me as a fragile china doll that you can’t do anything around lest she break. I can’t tell my siblings either because I don’t want to burden them, and they’d just tell our parents. I feel broken. And I feel undeserving of what I have. I know how lucky I am to live in a nice house and have food to eat and a family. And all that just makes me feel worse. Like I shouldn’t be upset or sad or whatever.

And it doesn’t necessarily help that my grandpa died just over a month ago. Like fuck ya know?

Even just typing this out feels attention seeking. And just fucking kill me if I ever use my ailments for attention because that is the one thing that I hate most in the world and that is the thing that is most like my ex friend. And if I ever become him I would not be able to live with myself.

I’m tired. Is it possible to sleep too much and too little at the same time? That pretty much sums up my life.

I hope your quarantine is going well.

I drew Timothee chalamet so that’s cool