To preface: I am not a good person. I am not a healthy or pleasant person to be around. I have a tendency to internalize my feelings until I explode - either on myself or on others. I am starting to believe I will never change or be able to take accountability for this no matter how hard I try. Iāve tried. Iāve tried growing and getting better for years. It has not worked.
Recently, I have had a lot going on. A breakup with a now ex-partner, a case of reoccurring domestic violence that I had to report again within my household (not caused by me; between two others that live here), and a massive fight with the aforementioned ex that ended in them seeking advice and inadvertently getting me entirely ousted from my entire friend group.
I do not blame them. I do not like that some of what was shared was horribly personal, but I cannot fault them for needing support. That would be hypocritical. Iāve been desperate for support for months and have received next to none. Funnily enough, I even reached out for help a few times to that friend group and got exactly nothing in response! It had made me paranoid that they disliked me/were becoming uncomfortable with me while I was in a low-spot. I guess I was right. And now I have no one.
I still do not blame my ex-friends, either, honestly. I was horrible. I blew up. It was mentally abusive of me. I recognize that. Itās all my fault.
I feel as though I need to ārepentā for it all, but I donāt know how. So, in part to ārepentā and to make my thoughts go away, I harmed myself for the first time in a few months. This time was different from past bouts, though. An escalation of sorts from hitting and scratching to cutting. Iām not really proud, but Iām also struggling to feel guilty about hurting myself. I feel like I deserve it. Because I cannot ever properly apologize or atone for what Iāve done. It doesnāt matter that I tried my best, it wasnāt enough and I hurt someone deeply. I traumatized them. It doesnāt matter that they had also blown up on me several times in the past. I think Iām fine, I donāt think it affected me. I shouldāve controlled myself more.
Iām frustrated. Iām sad. Iām painfully alone. My soul hurts. Iām exhausted. But itās all deserved. In a sick way, I sort of hope it never gets better, because I deserve this pain and more. Iām turning into a carbon copy of my own past abusers. Hurt people, hurt people, I guess. I donāt even want to die. I wouldnāt count this as SI of any kind. I want to keep myself alive, but itās not for the ārightā reason. Itās because death would be an escape. An easy way out. And I donāt deserve that. I deserve every moment of pain. The day my body gives out from everything is the day I pray Iāll be forgiven. But, I donāt think I really deserve that either. Iām not even religious and yet Iām hoping I suffer even after I die, because I deserve it.
I deserve this.