I got the title for my topic from some song, but not just because I like it. The reason for it is that my current life could be expressed in those two words. I write, when I can't bear no more and I usually finish with save me directed to nothingness. It's so pathetic, really. I know I should do something myself. I just can't force myself.
I don't know yet if I have depression. I don't care. If I have something nasty inside me which makes me want to cringe, cry, hurt myself - well, that might as well be anything else. But I know I have to get rid of it if I want to live a real life.
It's so difficult to express myself when it's not a temporary, it's my whole life. I see now it is going to be a long post so if you are busy, please postpone reading, I really would like to have your full attention. Extremely selfish of me, but that's the only topic I'm creating and I'd love to be heard.
So... Yeah. First of all my problems, then the reasons I think determines them. I'm really lacking in self-confidence. I look at those people who laugh and prank and are happy and get even sadder. I can't feel at ease. I don't let anyone close to me. Oh, I see now there will be no order in which I'll narrate, I'm sorry, it's just too mixed up. I have no one to be beside me, to comfort me, to tell them all I feel. Why, yes, I have parents and several friends. But those friends of mine either have their own best friends so I always feel something like betrayal though I know I shouldn't or just don't know the real me and I'm forced to act like I'm someone I'm not. I can't look them in the eyes and let loose, cry, be vulnerable. The same with my parents, I can't tell them my secrets, my wishes, be myself in their eyes. That leaves me basically alone. It pains me when I realise I can't talk about anything with my parents, by the way. It's so not fair, I just can't! Maybe if I've started this earlier, but now everything is just out of hands, our family has never been the one you feel warm and safe and loved in. No-- I mean, we love each other, I think... Hell, pathetic. It's just that I don't even know whether love exists.
Yes, I don't. Funny. Perhaps those talks about 'real love lasts no longer than two years' has something to do with this. Yes it does! It kills hope - you can't say things like this to young people, because they might believe! It's sort of... ruination. Really.
Anyway, I got a bit distracted. So I have no real friends - no best friend, no person to hold me... You get the idea. I mean, they could hold me if I asked but that wouldn't make things better, because it would just feel uncomfortable.
And I need someone. Like I've been told, I'm like a waterlily floating with nothing to link her with the ground.
I'm different, I'm told I'm weird so often... It really hurts. But the fact is I've always wanted it, to be not like everyone else. The reason is deep... I love reading fantasy books. I love reading, so I used to believe I could be someone special.. you know, powerful and magical - yes, magical! And better, stronger. I know how ridiculously it all sounds now. Of course, my wish has not been fulfilled, because, well, it's commonly accepted that magic does not exist. A pity.
Save me. Now, when I could live just like anyone else, I don't, I drown myself in my dreams, my idiotic fantasies, I live in my own world and I feel it's not the way it should be!
I have almost no friends and this is my own fault. For all the years hoping against hope I could be different left a trace. Now I don't see good in people, I don't really trust them, I see many of them like only moving things with labels on top and their names written. It always seems they're mocking me.
Some of them really do. I'm not confident, sometimes downright ridiculous, when I can't talk freely, I don't know things in world - I'm an outcast - a willing one! Oh, how little sense I'm making here... Never mind. If you can, you will try to help me. So they mock me, because they feel I want to be different and they won't have it - being different is a threat to their comfortable being, society, whatever... It's my own fault, they feel I want to be better - and I do. I'm so going nowhere, unable to express my thoughts even in writing... Downright. Pathetic.
Yeah, yeah, I know I shouldn't call myself so. Words have power behind them. If you really mean it. But there are lots of things I should not do.
Like.. See, I have acne. No big deal, yes, but this simply kills me. I can't admit it even to myself it adds to my problems very much and I feel ashamed talking about it even here, where I'm anonymous. But please, understand, when you wake up in the morning and want to smash the mirror it's no good at all. I look and can't hide the sneer, I'd give so much for a nice skin. Honestly, I can't do things I want if I know I look so bad.
Well, so you know I'm ugly now. No romance here, no beauty stuck in her grief, just an ugly person completely lost.
Yet I do realise the problem - the problems don't start with the outside looks, it's what's in me. You read of it above.
I'm just so lonely. It's hard for me to socialise, I like to talk of serious things and I don't like slandering, talking of...looks, fashion, you know, simple things. So lonely and pathetic, because I have to complain here and this looks so childish. But I really am so alone. Sometimes I wish for anyone somewhere in the world - better near me - to love me. To be for me, to hold me, to understand me. I think - it can't be that I'm completely alone, there must be at least one like me with same problems and attitude. But I know that to be loved I have to love first - which I just can't, I can't be vulnerable, share, value someone's life more than mine. I can't, because I don't even know whether love exists.
Yeah, I'm an emotional mess.
Sometimes that's just too much, it hurts so bad and I look in the mirror and laugh bitterly. I've never thought about suicide, I just won't, that's unacceptable. Perhaps I still hope - that some of my dreams will come true. But when I feel really depressed I... Well, that's the reason I'm writing this, I caught myself by the hand and said - 'you're crossing the line here'. So when the sadness, the pain in me is too difficult to bear, I feel this strange urge to make it real - and I do it by cutting myself. With a knife or a razor or... Hell, once I even got so angry there were no sharp knives I sharpened one - and then cut myself. That's sick. When I feel better I wonder why, how - and yet again I'll do the same. I watch the blood and I just want it to bleed, want it to hurt and damn that's wrong. That's sick. I'll try to describe what I feel right afterwards - disgust with myself, twisted feeling of pride - for I did it, I managed not to pull the knife away. And it seems fair that it hurts on the outside as well. And then I think that perhaps I do it just because I want to feel different, exceptional and I'm disgusted at myself even more. For there is no real reason for my emotional state. I did it to myself! There is no 'my loved one died' or 'I've lost home and family' kind of story and I feel I don't have any right to be so sad. I said 'I'm a dreamer, I'm not like them' - and yes, I got what I wanted. Perfect.

Hello Elisa, Sorry you are feeling this way.

I have not suffered with acne though my oldest sister had for many years, she went as far as looking into cosmetic surgery but never ended up doing it because she learned to love herself as she was and that in time the acne died down a lot.
Hope yours improves quickly (((((hugs)))))