This photo with 30 notes was posted 11 months ago on the 16th of May, 2013.
Tags: #selfharm #selfhate #my scars #scars #healed #good #sweden #swedish #boy #wallet
This month has been by far the toughest month that I’ve ever had. For a week of isolation and stress more than usual, and three complete weeks of hard work and psycho-studying, I have managed pretty well. No. Very well. You see, I’ve had several fucked up things happening to me and to the people around me for the past two years, more than ever. I’ve lived in a family who is so arrogant to think that whatever is the proper pathway for themselves is the proper, and only, pathway for everyone else that they love. It’s love regardless what you may call it, despite that I’ve felt and still feel hatred towards these two people. I still love them. To an extent.
As I was sitting and waiting for my bus earlier today after a hectic chemistry exam, I was playing around with my wallet and I noticed my scars were showing. I see them everyday but never has it crossed my mind until now how great I’m feeling. I’ve had friends throwing me away. I’ve had family members judging me for my beliefs, for thinking differently and wanting to do things differently. I have had my heart broken and it is still not fixed. As much as I wish all these people would rot in hell I cannot. I can. not. Because I love them despite their hatred to me.
My issues are not even as half as bad as other people’s issues. I have friends who suffer from crazy disorders. I know people who struggle to even breath. Yet I can not bring my self to wonder why I can’t manage the simplest tasks as they can. The answer is as oblivious to me as the meaning of life to anyone else. I’m a perfectly healthy boy who the day after this post has officially finished his exams and will be graduating the 5th of June 2013, hopefully, with an IB diploma in his possession. After tomorrow, I am trying to locate a psychologist in which I can entrust my feelings and my mind to, if by any chance I may have a disorder or slight complexity in my genes or behavior. Just by any chance. I know I’m not fully sane. I have my issues and I have my concerns like everybody else does, but it’s still worth a check, and a friendly reminder of speaking to someone who will never disrupt my confidentiality. Like talking to a wall with the capability of understanding and feeling the same emotions.
I am, either way, very thankful for the people who’ve been there for me. Not to be rude but a lot of those people who have atleast tried to help me through situations have never understood and will never understand. Some of them have stared me down for hurting my self, others kept silent, which is appreciated, and others did their best to help me as much as they could. I love them all. I’ve just come to a sudden realization that things have gotten better for me and if so is the case then I’m willing to spend my nights talking to those who need any kind of help, be it someone who listens, someone who shares their experience, or simply someone who is willing to discuss anything to get your mind off of things.
I’ve felt suicidal many times this and last year. I can tell one thing for sure that it served med well for not making the wrong choice at that time.
I’m glad I’m doing good now. I’m happy. Very, very, very happy.
Apologies for this long post, I just felt like sharing.