stella_marie

itsts 745 am and i feel compelled to finally fess up. most of you already know, but it will make me feel better to finally say this shit. i think i was about 12 years old when i knew there was something wrong with me. i know everyone goes through their own shit at that age, but i always felt i was different. ive said my brother was diabetic already, so at the age of 13 i used to steal his needles and prick my fingers and watch myself bleed. at 14, i stole my fathers vodka and would sit in my room drinking it till i was numb. by 16, i was smoking enough pot to numb a horse. at 17, i discovered using sex as a weapon. but i would lay there numb, not even a participant, just faking the power of making him happy. i started smoking at 17 cause cancer seemed like a great way out of it all. after i got mugged when i was in college, my dad gave me a louisville slugger in case anyone ever came into my apartment. instead, i would sit there and cry and use it to put holes in my wall. when we moved out of the apartment in college, i had 17 holes to fill up. i went through 5 mirrors and took out a quarter of the wall that lived behind it. i started drinking when i woke up in the morning until i passed out at night. and when i was too numb to any feeling, i would take a scissor and slice my arms up. i would cry when i felt nothing from it. that was when i gave my parents the ultimatum. i told my mom she had a choice; either i moved back home and got help or i was going to take a razor to my wrists and solve the pain my own way. i moved back home for six months to get better. after almost 10 years of saying there was something wrong with me, someone else finally agreed. my dr said i was bipolar, and he was on my side till i said i was leaving and the $600 a week check was stopping that he turned on me. i went back to school and graduated a year after i was supposed to. my diploma was handed to me by the mailman cause i was too disgusted with myself to go to graduation. to this day, i still dont know where it is. after college, i worked this shit job saving up money to move up to canada where my boyfriend was. a week before the big move, he emailed me that it was a bad idea. it was like having the world pulled out from underneath me. i left that job to eventually get another fucking terrible job. then i got my apartment in the city and shortly after got fired from my job cause i told my boss this was the most uncreative bore of a job i had ever had. so fast forward to the present. its been almost 6 months since ive had a job. i was disillusioned that in ny of all cities, i could find a job to use graphic design as an art, and not as a function. boy was i naive. i have no desire to do anything with anything anymore. its a fucking effort for me to get out of bed most mornings. and when i do, i go take a nap a few hours later. i drink the pain away at least 4 times a week. the toilet has become my own personal halo. i black out at least once a week. sometimes i just forget what i say, other times i wake up and have no idea what happened the night before or how i got to bed or who took me there. i cry myself to sleep at least twice a week. i need to do something with my life but cant think of a single thing. my mom tells me i should just meet a nice investment banker. the problem is i fucking hate them. i mostly pine after guys who hurt me so i can take a break from doing it myself. i cant end it all cause i have 4 grandparents, 2 parents and a brother that would never forgive me. so i take my pills and wash them down with beer. i dont believe in god but i pray every night if there is one to put me out of my fucking misery. ill never find a man to accept me with all my problems and love me in spite of them. im on this path of self-destruction with no end in fucking sight, not so much cause it isnt there, but more so cause i dont want it. how sick is that? i would rather live in the misery im in than go get myself together. i know what i have to do to get myself back on track. i just choose not to. i dont have good luck. i dont have connections. but i know im fucking talented and it will just end up being buried with me someday. so, i guess thats where im at now. at the beginning of this week, after a 5 day manic episode, i really thought i wanted to get my life back on track. but its now friday morning and i realized i just want to crawl into a fucking hole a die. its unfair to ask for sympathy cause i dont deserve it. but here you go. this is me at my most vulnerable. this is my answer to how are you. i just spent a night drinking more than i can, dancing on guys cause i know what they think, and swallowing lots of pills, only to throw them all up. maybe its unfair to put this all on you, but i cant hold it myself anymore. this isnt a cry for help, cause i dont think i would answer it anyways. this is me admitting to everything that is wrong with me so i can close my tired dry eyes for the night and hope again i dont wake up in the morning.