The Worst of the Relapses

It’s getting worse, and I have no idea what to do to stop it.

It’s still very shallow, but they are numerous. I have four different places where I put them; my thigh, my hip, my shoulder and my arm.

The ones that can be seen are easily explained, but I don’t know what to do if someone was to find out. I need someone to talk to, someone who won’t ask me to stop the first thing they do; I need someone who can just hold me and someone who can just listen.

I used to talk to my cousin about this kind of thing, but she is only irritating me nowadays.

She’s one of the people who gave me the flu at Christmas, and she will just blurt stupid things all the time.

Approximately a year ago, a friend of mine borrowed a suit case from her, and he couldn’t give it back to her personally because of some complications. She received the address at which her suit case was located, but she did nothing to retrieve it.

Today, she asked me if I knew where it was, or where she could find it. I told her the details I could remember and she asked “don’t you have it written down? It was your friend you know” like it’s my fault she didn’t get it last year.

Needless to say; I can’t tell her about this. All she asks me to do is to exercise if I hate my body so much, but I can’t because of complications with my legs, and no one seems to get that.

I had a P.E. teacher who still didn’t believe me after I cried during class, I’ve had multiple doctors telling me it’s all in my head, therapists that tell me they can’t do anything to change it. I can’t exercise, sometimes I can’t walk, sometimes I can’t even get out of bed because it feels like my knees are shattered, because my hip feels like it’s dislocated.

My current P.E. teacher is thankfully very understanding, and lets me take breaks when I need them.

I’m just so angry with everything, my therapist and doctor somehow lost two of my three diagnosis so they are not treating me for PTSD and general anxiety disorder at all. This is so fucking wrong I can’t even begin to describe it. In their “haste to treat my depression” they “lost them on the way from evaluation to treatment”.

It pisses me off a lot, they change the subject when I bring up the cutting, they tell me my meds will take care of my wishing to kill myself, they want me to tell my dad that I don’t want to eat so that he can force me.

That’s not what I need, I need someone I can talk to; but they’ve used up all their chances, I’m not giving them another shot at this.

I need to change doctor and therapist ASAP, but I have no idea how to ask for that; I’m easily manipulated when it comes to my mental health. People can tell me I’m not worth a try, and I’ll believe them. People can convince me that certain forms of self harm will help me towards recovery, and I’ll look at them as if they hold all the answers.

It’s killing me, all of this. It’s stripping me of the self control that I’ve had, it’s slowly smothering me.

I need to read something heart breaking, I need to watch something that’s going to make me cry like a baby, I need it all, I want it all, but I don’t know what to do.

Books are too long, I need this kind of fix now, I’ve exhausted all my films and they don’t affect me like that any more. I can’t listen to music because it doesn’t affect me like that either. I need to cry a lot, like a little baby, I need to get this out of my system before I cut where people can see, before people understand what I’m doing to myself.

I need to study, but I’m too unfocused to do anything.

I need someone to think of me as insignificant and fuck me, no strings attached.

I want alcohol, pot, acid, anything that can take reality away from me for a while.

I have a bottle of champagne that I got for my birthday, I might just drink it tonight.

Damn it all.


About thezonesystems

Former miserable, confused teenager - now sad and confused trans adult(ish)
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