11 days
Jul. 20th, 2025 06:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iaaboura I tried writing this entry before, but I didn't like it. Now I don't even know what to say.
I feel sick. The same kind of sick I felt in May and early June when all I was allowed to do was text ___ for hours on end, apologizing repeatedly. I would do the same thing for her, but I know she wouldn't have it. I wouldn't want to hurt her anyway, much less tarnish her perception of me. Unless she lied to make it easier on me, she seems to remember our time together fondly. I wouldn't want to tarnish that.
But it's fine. I won't do anything. I tell my mom that I'm fine, because nothing is really different. Bathroom camping and disassotiating from conversations is just kind of what I always do.
Honestly, I expected myself to feel more, but I can't really muster up much sadness. I've cried a few times, don't get me wrong, but it's not really because I'm so upset from the break up. Or, it is. But it's not at the same time. When I'm not thinking about it, I'm fine. I'm decently okay and I feel guilty. Even though I KNOW that the overwhelming sadness and anguish comes later rather than sooner. It happens every time. I wasn't really crying about the act of leaving ___ until after the whole ordeal.
The first time I cried was initially when it happened. A few stray tears fell down my cheeks as my mom hugged me and I talked about everything. The second time was at my therapy appointment I conveniently had the next day. She kept asking me tough questions and my voice broke. I think that she could tell because she sent me off that day with Scooby Doo snacks. The third time was the day after that, Friday. I had went upstairs to hide in the bathroom for three hours. I really cried this time, even though I held back my sobs.
I think I'm going to go back on Prozac soon, having quit the medication a year and a half ago. It just got hard to continue to take it after the overdose I had with it. I had thrown up repeatedly the next day. It's what I continue punishment for either once again failing to kill myself, or maybe just the fact that I wanted to.
Maybe now it will be beneficial, if I stick to continuously taking it now instead of throwing away and hiding the pills. And even though I've been more busy with other things, my body issues still exist. Even with my self hating thoughts and body dysmorphia though, I've been having a good run with eating better. But now, I'm not even sure if it's still worth it.
The break up had definitely put me closer to the edge of wanting to get better and as bad as possible. Recovery or get worse, cut or don't cut, to die or to not die. I have so many opinions and there's nobody to stop me anymore! I'm not living for anybody anymore. Mom has more daughters. My siblings have more sisters. Friends have more friends. It goes on forever. I'm not significant enough in anyone's life to feel as if I should stay for them. It's freeing and so scary at the same time.
The fact that my girlfriend broke up with me for the same reason why my best friend justified ruining me for says something. It says something. I am a bottomless pit. I deserve whatever comes next. I know that it's only bad things. I don't even know why I tried getting better. This has always been and always will be my life. The wound is numb.
I feel sick. The same kind of sick I felt in May and early June when all I was allowed to do was text ___ for hours on end, apologizing repeatedly. I would do the same thing for her, but I know she wouldn't have it. I wouldn't want to hurt her anyway, much less tarnish her perception of me. Unless she lied to make it easier on me, she seems to remember our time together fondly. I wouldn't want to tarnish that.
But it's fine. I won't do anything. I tell my mom that I'm fine, because nothing is really different. Bathroom camping and disassotiating from conversations is just kind of what I always do.
Honestly, I expected myself to feel more, but I can't really muster up much sadness. I've cried a few times, don't get me wrong, but it's not really because I'm so upset from the break up. Or, it is. But it's not at the same time. When I'm not thinking about it, I'm fine. I'm decently okay and I feel guilty. Even though I KNOW that the overwhelming sadness and anguish comes later rather than sooner. It happens every time. I wasn't really crying about the act of leaving ___ until after the whole ordeal.
The first time I cried was initially when it happened. A few stray tears fell down my cheeks as my mom hugged me and I talked about everything. The second time was at my therapy appointment I conveniently had the next day. She kept asking me tough questions and my voice broke. I think that she could tell because she sent me off that day with Scooby Doo snacks. The third time was the day after that, Friday. I had went upstairs to hide in the bathroom for three hours. I really cried this time, even though I held back my sobs.
I think I'm going to go back on Prozac soon, having quit the medication a year and a half ago. It just got hard to continue to take it after the overdose I had with it. I had thrown up repeatedly the next day. It's what I continue punishment for either once again failing to kill myself, or maybe just the fact that I wanted to.
Maybe now it will be beneficial, if I stick to continuously taking it now instead of throwing away and hiding the pills. And even though I've been more busy with other things, my body issues still exist. Even with my self hating thoughts and body dysmorphia though, I've been having a good run with eating better. But now, I'm not even sure if it's still worth it.
The break up had definitely put me closer to the edge of wanting to get better and as bad as possible. Recovery or get worse, cut or don't cut, to die or to not die. I have so many opinions and there's nobody to stop me anymore! I'm not living for anybody anymore. Mom has more daughters. My siblings have more sisters. Friends have more friends. It goes on forever. I'm not significant enough in anyone's life to feel as if I should stay for them. It's freeing and so scary at the same time.
The fact that my girlfriend broke up with me for the same reason why my best friend justified ruining me for says something. It says something. I am a bottomless pit. I deserve whatever comes next. I know that it's only bad things. I don't even know why I tried getting better. This has always been and always will be my life. The wound is numb.
