Nearly every day, I wish I was dead. How is that selfish? I simply can’t protect myself from what you think, what your family thinks, what our peers think. Most of all, I can’t protect myself FROM myself. You know now that most, if not all, of my bitching was a mood swing. I cannot help it if I have a chemical imbalance. Do you even know how hard it is to live with a mental illness and have it destroy your life, and your relationships? You’re fucking staring right at it. I go no where, I do nothing. I have isolated myself. You, and the people who are nice enough to let us stay here, are the only people I am around. And yet, you look down on me for checking my facebook account, for trying to reconnect with people I used to know to try to salvage some sort of friendship. How can I even have the care to want to give attention to anyone but you, you ask me? I have been honest with you, but you do not believe me. You think i’m ‘slutting around’, when, because of you, i wear my pjs all god damn day and wear makeup and straighten my hair maybe twice a week. How the fuck do think I’m ‘slutting around’ when everyone tells you you can do better? No one fucking wants me, no one even wants you to be with me. You haven’t even noticed how much my self-loathing has grown and changed since you’ve been with me. I get uncomfortable during sex because I worry that someday you’ll wake up and share the opinions of others about my appearance. Yes, you’ve told me I am beautiful, but if you’d payed more attention to how I responded you would have been, without a doubt, able to see how low my opinion is of myself. You payed so much attention to what YOU were saying to me, assuming “i told her she is beautiful -> she knows she is -> she is only trying to play dumb, because she knows she is pretty, i have said so -> she doesnt listen to anything i say and does not care” God, how the fuck do you not pay attention to shit like that. All you ever think about is worrying about me doing something behind your back or talking to someone, you don’t even take the time when you’re mad at me to remember that I have gone more than a decade with untreated bipolar, of course tons of negative experiences were caused by this, and that maybe i’m fucking TELLING THE TRUTH when i say i had no motivation for what i did and im sorry. but you’re so god damn wrapped up in your own paranoia, and your own depression, to fucking think straight. Fuck, you wouldnt even let me go get psychiatric help because you saw that as me saying you couldn’t comfort me or that you were of no help. You fucking idiot. After all the times I sat there and punched myself until i was dizzy, all the bruises i put on my legs, all the times i cried for days straight, after crying at least an hour every day for years, not to mention the bulk of my life before you, and you reach the verdict that I know exactly what i’m doing when i do it, and i’m just trying to justify my actions, and most of all i’m an immature, codependant, emotional, selfish, little girl. AND this picture was painted for everyone. Imagine that is you, and imagine that you try your best to make things right and have good intentions but you can’t help being upset or depressed. then imagine you find out you’re bipolar and there is a pill to even you out. then you would feel better. but then everyone still has the same opinion because they do not know of your illness. and then imagine your significant other adopts an attitude reflective of those who are not aware of your mental shortcomings, and treats you as if you’re just a big baby. would that not fucking drive you want to destroy yourself? fuck you’re fucking killing me, you say you love me but you’re killing me. what could i have possibly done to deserve this. i know i fucked up BUT LET THAT SHIT GO, FFS. i will fucking die here, one day you will wake up and i will be cold and pale in the bed next to you. thats the net step in the evolution of the nightmare you’re living.
