tim3-is-my-murd3r

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Can we just talk?

Where did it all go wrong? I lost it, I’m losing it. Imma get through this... hopefully...

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Looking back makes me wonder what I've done wrong 😞 Yeah it's cheesy but I love that stuff 🙃 I wish it was like this again 😶

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

But I don't wanna let anyone down 😞

im somewhere between wanting to relapse and wanting to overdose, fuck

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Ugh 😭

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

I wish I was dead cuz I already know what it feels like 😞

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

😭😭

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Frustrates me the amount of people saying that you can't be bi if you're dating the opposite gender 😤

you’re still valid no matter what💖💙💜

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

I just need to let this out

I watched something earlier, and idk if I regret it yet or not. It was basically this girl talking about like her mental health story which involved suicide, self harm, anxiety and depression. Which is kinda relatable for me tbh But in it she had like a 10 minute rant about how shit CAHMS is. And it's just left these thoughts that I'm about to release imprinted in my head When I was admitted to CAHMS the second time, it was because I had attempted suicide. So these people are professionals, right? The NHS release mentally unstable people into their hands, assuming they'll do a good job I ask you this one question that I haven't really told anyone about After my meeting in the hospital, I had my first proper meeting at the place which they meet unstable young people to supposedly help them with their issues So why was I asked, in reference to my attempt at suicide, by my CAHMS worker... and I quote... "why didn't you do a better job?" Just let that sink in a moment. I was in a very unstable situation. The week before having attempted suicide. Yet, a PROFESSIONAL was asking me why I didn't do better at KILLING MYSELF! I remember just having absolutely no answer to what he had asked, but he didn't just stop at that. No. He continued with "Like hang yourself from something, Take heavier pills, Stab yourself?" I mean WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!! I'd just like to say that because of this I took my next attempt more seriously which I never told them at cahms because why should I? Just writing about it gives me the most horrible feeling. I've been crying tonight because of this and yes it was ages ago but it still affected me But I was always questioned intensely on decisions that I make spontaneously when in a deep state of anxiety or depression and the whole point of going was for them to explain why I made these decisions. But anytime I cut, anytime I wrote a note, anytime I lashed out, it was; "why didn't you do it deeper? Why didn't you do what you wrote down? Why didn't you lash out more intensely?" Yes, I get it, I could've done what I did a lot worse. I could've been in a much worse position but I was just in my position that I wanted to get out of and tbh I'm glad that I can say that cahms weren't any help to me. Cuz that means that I came this far without professionals

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Ugh I can't keep doing this 😭

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Exactly 😖

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Truer words have never been said 😞

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

Limits of Anxiety

<p>There’s only so much I can do and so far I can go.<br> Today is one of them days that I wanna just hide in a hole for a lifetime.<br> I can’t deal with all this uncertainty and distress.</p> <p>Everything is falling down on me.<br> The weights in my shoulders are getting heavier and I physically feel like imma collapse from all the stress.<br> Everyone is just causing additional stress and I can’t deal with it.</p> <p>I want to just drown.<br> And never come back up so I don’t have to deal with it.<br> I know I’m making myself ill from it all but the majority of this stress isn’t even because of me.<br> I need something, idk what.</p> <p>Maybe a drink? A joint? A blade?

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

I feel like I've survived death...

6 months ago I would've given anything for a chance at death but now I don't think I'll ever get over staring death right in the eye... I always had a fascination with wanting to be murdered when I'm older so people will remember me. I don't want that anymore. I'll just be honest in the back of my mind I've had this crazy obsession with it all... part of me blames Dumbledore; "death is only another great adventure". But the sayings true, if you don't have experience you don't understand. I mean I know people who have attempted suicide multiple times. I know people who have practically been dead. I know people who are now dead. But you don't understand if you don't experience it. And I honestly feel like I had a near death experience... but I would've been murdered... trust me, it's not pretty. So I think imma try and get you to imagine it. You're sat on the floor, back against the wall, of your 9year old brothers room. He's already punched your mum and made her cry and has been threatening to run away. And yet you're determined to stay to ensure he doesn't hurt himself or break anything by accident. You extend both legs to keep a door to the left of you shut and your using your hands too just to stop him escaping. He leaves the door alone and appears to continue to gather his things and "leave" but this time he's picked up a towel. Why on earth would a 9yo think to take towe... That's it. You had no time to think. The towel is covering your entire face and his head is pushing against your mouth where the towel is. There's a hand either side of your head and the towel is tight. You can't see a thing. You might try pushing him away? Think again. This little boy isn't stupid. Your legs are pinned to the floor with his weight. And your entire body is becoming weaker at the minute. It's slow and fast all at once. You can almost feel the blood in your body attempting to speed up but actually slowing down. You're panicking and yet your body is unable to cooperate with your mind. You can't stop but think about what everyone will say when you're gone. What will happen to your little brother? What about you being too weak to push him off? -----------------BLACK----------------- You wanna know what happened in that moment of darkness? Cuz I bloody hell want to know. Right then, and right now, and all that was in between I have no fucking idea what happened to me! Dyou know how fucking scary that is? You might say, well that's what happens when you sleep. No it's not the fucking same. I would know cuz I sleep too much and I swear this was nothing like it. I can't explain it. I hated it. I'm terrified of my little brother murdering me. I'm crying just thinking about it. There was no one there to stop him. Imagine if I hadn't woken up and pushed him off me. I don't wanna go through that ever again. I don't wanna die and I certainly don't wanna be murdered

[tim3-is-my-murd3r]

I'm not sure...

I don't think they've found this one yet. But it's probably only a matter of time... All I want is to have somewhere to myself, but I'm not allowed anything nice without consequences... I've had enough of crying. It's all I do when I'm alone. But do you know what? No one cares. Cuz as long as it's not physical it's not there, right? "I'm proud of you" "I can tell you've gotten better" "At least that phase is behind us" "We knew you were FINE" That's all I hear. It's all they care about. There's only faint physical scars on my arms now. But there's still metaphorical cuts in my head. Not that it would matter. Because no one actually gives a damn. I should probably explain... I haven't cut myself in exactly 4 months tomorrow. Yay for me. That's what I should be saying, right? But I don't want too. I didn't want to stop. I never did. Do you want to know why? Of course you fucking do! Cuz everyone stalks everyone. And everyone is a nosy bastard! No one who is reading this actually cares, it's just another thing to talk about. Just stop reading a second and think, why are you reading? Why do you "care" so much to listen to my rants? Another thing to bring up in conversation. Another thing to say "I know you're fucked up" Well guess what? Nothing is okay. It never has been! Not since the moment I stopped dragging the blade across my wrist every time I was angry, or stressed, or upset! And before you ask, no. I haven't. And I probably won't ever again. But that doesn't mean it's over. Do you wanna know why I did it that first time? Do you wanna know why the fuck I was doing it as "bad" as I was? Because of fuckers like you! That first time. That very first time. I remember it better than the first time I had sex. It's a lot more memorable than that. I'd been writing fanfiction, it's still my favourite one that I've written. It was a modern Hunger Games thing. Initially I wrote about songs and then helping Katniss through school stress... then it turned bad... You can read it and you can see the development of mental health and how it declined... it was fast. In the play, I got her to become angry and lash out. I got her to have numerous mental breakdowns. And then I got her to self-harm and even attempt suicide a few times... But then, it stopped working. The writing wasn't helping. I tried. Over and over again. But nothing got my thoughts out of my head. Until one day... I'd been bullied at school for a few months now. Oh the perks of being "the new kid". It kinda comes with the territory. I'd gotten home and begun to lose it, in my room I was letting all loose. No one was home and I was able to do whatever I wanted... Except my texts to my then bf had to sound happy. He had to get what he wanted after all... He was 21 when we started seeing each other, I was 14. He asked for a lot and I was willing to give him that. But not even he had any idea what was going on... I found a screwdriver. I know, stupid right? Wrong. It did the job. No blood. Lots of pain. Coverable marks. By that point I'd started seeing everything as a sharp object that could help me through this. And all I remember thinking was "I deserve whatever I get". And I let my hands run free. It's all a blur after that. I had no idea what I'd let myself into, but dyou what? I let myself into over a year and a half of numbing pain. And that's just it. Self harm "numbed" the pain I was feeling. Postponed it. So it was clear what would happen when I stopped. If you wanna know what's going on in my head right now. What they tell me now I've stopped. What my mind does to itself. If you actually genuinely care. And read past the "why are you reading this?" sentence further up. Next time you see me, and we're alone. Just say "I know you're not okay" If we're close, and you've not shouted it at me that day. There's a chance I'll tell you the story of me after self harm. The "Behind the Scenes" of me. But don't make me. The minute you do, is the minute I realise you don't care. You have to let me know you know that I'm not okay with just that sentence. And whatever follows is dependant on everything else. I might tell you. I might not. Just please, don't ruin me more with added pressure to do so.