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School Type GIF by Reuben Armstrong

here's a second attempt at starting a journal, I have a lot going on these days so figured I'd use it more. 

please don't comment as I'd much rather just ramble to myself and not have comments littering and making a mess.

anyways, enjoy my messy life, xo.

Edited by dove.
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Why does life have to be so difficult? 

My sister split with her fiance after almost four years and a son later, they decided to call it quits, good riddance considering their relationship was toxic as fuck, anyway, they're living together so obviously it's all awkward now and she has to be the one to move with my nephew - so I've offered for us to find somewhere together, it'd be easier to pay rent if it's both of us splitting all the bills. 

I was offered this new job which I've had to turn down now because it's less money, which means I need to stay at my current very shitty job, with an even more shitty pay, but still more than I'd get at this job. I just don't think 1200 a month is enough considering I have people's lives in my hands, and now I've got to be able to afford a house with my sister and nephew? 

What I'd give to be a millionaire right now, heh. It just sucks when you can't afford to live, even my sister has had to go back to a job she hates to fucking survive. 

Anyway, that's my rant for the day, I'll be back tomorrow. xo

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So, I've always struggled with my weight and body image issues, like always. It's something that seems to effect my siblings too, which I'm blaming entirely on my parents and their constant comments on our weight, and the fact that we grew up with the two of them constantly on diets and trying to get rid of their fat, anyways, I found a solution: weight loss injections. 

That current solution? Killing me. I've been on them for about a week now, and I've been constantly throwing up after everything I eat, and even not being able to eat because I feel sick - it's a side effect apparently, but I can already see the difference, so my toxic mind doesn't want to give them up. 

Between everything in our family weight wise, it's no surprise that my seventeen year old sister is undiagnosed bulimic. It was my parents who found out, after finding her throwing away a bag of her own sick, and now she eats everything in sight, just to purge it hours later. My parents are some of the most insensitive unemphatic people I've ever met, so I have to practically beg them not to make comments - my sister doesn't know I know. 

Everything is just really messed up now, and I can't exactly make a comment on her...current predicament when I'm injecting myself with needles every night to try and lose my own weight, heh.

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  • 3 months later...
  • 1 month later...

My (real) dad is dying, which isn't as much a surprise as it should be. He's been dying for years, not literally, but still dying nonetheless. Since I was a little girl he's always chosen drugs over my sister's and I, and it's not as heartbreaking for them 'cause he's my real dad, my step-dad is their real dad, so they don't understand why I'm so...bleh over it. 

I feel for the guy, I really do. His girlfriend (my mama) cheated on him with his brother, got pregnant, promised she wouldn't do it again, and then ran away with him a year later. No sane person can come back from that; but did he have to sacrifice a life with his daughter 'cause of it? Somebody who didn't do a damn thing to him? 

I was eight years old and staying awake the entire night to check on him 'cause he had come home in an absolute state. I was nine years old when I wrote a message to his ex begging for her to come back, sexting the woman pretending to be my dad 'cause he'd get mad if I said no, and the words were too blurry for him. I was ten years old when he locked me inside a room and left me there for hours, wouldn't let me out until I stopped crying, I didn't stop. I was eleven years old when I watched him hit my sister, thanking god silently that it wasn't me.

He deserves to die, he deserved to die years ago. He deserved to die, not my nana's, or my uncle, he deserves to be constantly in pain, not my mama. 

I saw him at my uncle's funeral, first time I'd seen him in person in almost ten years, and I sobbed like a goddamn baby 'cause he didn't even glance at me. As if he hadn't already ruined my childhood and now he was breaking my heart all over again? 

I love my stepdad, more than I've ever loved him, but it just makes me so sad. I'm not going to his funeral when he finally passes, I don't think anyone is going. He deserves to feel alone in his final moments, like he made me feel for years. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

I've posted personal things before, but nothing this personal, and I know I'll regret it in a few hours, but god i just need to vent somewhere I know nobody is watching. 

Last night was supposed to be it for me. I drank a bottle of vodka so it didn't hurt as much, and then took a blade to my wrist. I cut deeper than I've ever cut before, and made sure it was in a way so that if I nicked an artery, nobody would be able to save me in time, I didn't get that far. I left notes and deleted things I didn't want my family seeing, I planned everything out fucking perfectly, only for my sister to show up unannounced and ruin it all. 

I've had to have fifteen stitches, and was dismissed from the hospital this morning under my sisters care, who has been watching me like a hawk since. They've been talking about getting me sectioned and even though the thought scares me, I don't care anymore. I don't care because I know I'm going to try again; and will having a break from everything really be such a bad thing? 

I didn't think about anything outside of the moment yesterday, and obviously life still goes on so I have work on Wednesday and my arm looks like it's just survived a brutal freddie Krueger attack, so that's a problem I'll have to deal with eventually, I can't walk around wearing a bandage forever. It's just so embarrassing that every attempt I've tried has failed. This is, what, my fourth try? 

I'm going to speak to my doctor in the morning, she said she's going to try and refer me to a rehab clinic or something, but at this point it looks as if my only option is a stay in the hospital, heh. I don't have much else to say, and writing this down helped a ton, so I'll leave it posted here so hopefully in a few months, if I make it that far, I can look back and see that I've been in worse states.

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I lied to my boss and said I had a family emergency just so I can leave halfway through my shift because I was having withdrawals and needed a drink. It's getting worse. 

I'm getting worse. 

I never thought I'd be following in my father's footsteps, but here i am, heh. Maybe that's why my mama and stepdad don't like me that much, I remind them of him. 

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