Sometimes I cant help but wonder if its really just the bipolar that puts me down.

That beats me down, puts me in the dirt, and keeps my face in the sludge while laughing in my face. Ever time I seem to be doing fine…every time things are looking up, something always grabs me by the throat and shoves me back down. Puts me in my place. Regardless of how far I’ve come, regardless of how many people I help, and regardless of how well I can front a smile---its breaking me down just to get up in the mornings.

I don’t want to eat. I cant sleep more than a few hours at night, or eighteen without warning. I cant keep my hands away from my blades, and away from my arm. I cant get up in the morning with optimism without having something, ANYTHING, reminding me that I’m a waste of space and I’m not going anywhere. Maybe no one said anything bad to me. Maybe people finally left me alone for ten minutes without getting in my face. Regardless, I still cannot remove myself from the darkness within the confines of my own mind. There’s times when all I want to do is wander off and start a fight with someone I don’t even know. To feel the crunch of bone under my fist and the sting of broken knuckles. To FEEL SOMETHING. Other than the life crushing depression and anger that swallows me up all the time. Yeah, I have my medications. No, I haven’t been taking them. Why? Because they don’t help me regardless. I can be faithful with them, taking my pills every morning like a good little spud. But that night you’ll still find me curled up and bloodied. You’ll still find me reaching for those blades, and you will absolutely still find me angry at the whole world with no one to blame.

I have no reason to be pissed off. I have no reason to be depressed. But I am.

I feel as though the whole world is against me, although I’m not even out in that world. I stay hidden in my room, moping. Laying in bed in all hours of the day, just staring at the ceiling. Nothing to occupy my time. And if I did have something, I don’t enjoy it. Nothing I do keeps me satisfied for more than an hour or two. I fall asleep at four in the morning, aching with backpain. My head throbbing from furious aggression boiling up with nothing to dispense it on. Every turn I take, something’s blocking the path. Every time I raise my fists to free up my path again, I get lost. Something turns me around, and I start walking in circles. It’s like living in my own personal labrynth, invisible to everyone but me. All the turns look the same, all the paths walked on already. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

I haven’t seen my doctor about any of this because what’s the point? They’ll just give me more medications that make me more sick than healthy. There’s nothing they can do about my overwhelming dysphoria that seems to shred every existence of a calm. I cant look in the mirror without a skull cracking aggressive response to want to shatter the glass with my bare fists. I cant shower without glancing down at myself and wanting to beat and bruise myself until I cant take it anymore. I hate how I look. I hate how I feel. I’m so damn angry all the time I cant even cry.

I mentioned my issues to a professional and all she did was direct me to a suicide hotline. Here’s my input on it though. Anyone who’s suicidal and feels beyond help, isn’t going to SEEK that help. They don’t want to pick up the phone and listen to someone fake up all these reasons that they’re important and need to stick with it! They don’t know you, they don’t know your problems, and even if you explain it, how the hell is one more stranger involved in your life supposed to heal your anguish?

I thought I was doing better. I thought I was getting by.

I thought wrong.

I cant even talk to my sisters without wanting to just shut my ipod off, roll over in bed and play dead. I get angry over nothing. Snap about nothing. Complain then feel like crap for involving other people in my problems. Useless waste of breath, just to ruin someone elses day and drag them down with you. And it's not even their faults. My Sister Des does everything, EVERYTHING she can to try and make me happy. Sending me messages every morning to make sure I'm okay. Trying her best to cheer me up and remind me that words are only words, and no one can ruin my life unless I let them. But.....I just cant stop myself. I have no control over my own emotions anymore.

 I remember being like this when I was sixteen. My only solution was to go out and f*** away my problems with people I hardly knew, just to feel all my energy and anger be used up and wasted away. But it never really got rid of my emotional overload. Just made them fester and question myself. My sexuality, my identity, my personal worth…I just sit here and stare at nothing. Think nothing. Fists shaking and a bountiful pile of bloodied tissue next to me.

Yes, I cut. I’m not even ashamed of it. Why should I be? Some people smoke and get lung cancer. Some people smoke weed and rot their brains. Some people shoot up and destroy their organs. Some people are alcoholics and destroy their lives. I made little slices, watch it bleed, and call it a night. I’m not hurting anyone, and its not going to kill me. It’s no where deep enough to even be a risk. So why f***ing stop? What’s the point?

I don’t want my breasts. I want them gone, and it’s a struggle every day not to just do it myself. I like my hair short, despite the backstabbing crap I hear from my boyfriends mother behind my back about it. I HATE being called a girl all day by her. Being called Kristy. Being told she will never ever accept me as I am. Being lied about. Her and my mother and my older sister running their f***ing mouths saying “SHE is only that sexuality because SHE WANTS ATTENTION”.

“SHE is only transgender because SHE WANTS ATTENTION”

“SHE only cuts herself because SHE WANTS ATTENTION”

“SHE only changed her name because SHE WANTS ATTENTION”

HAVE I GOT YOUR ATTENTION NOW? Because that’s all anyone seems to think that I need. Attention.

When all I really want….is for everyone to leave me alone.

I just….

I just want to feel….okay.  I’m sick of helping everyone else when I know, I KNOW, I cant even help myself. I just want to disappear…

And I don’t know why I’m even blogging this…

But there you go. My blog for the night. Enjoy.

Warren.

Or, I guess, Kristy. Since that's all anyone seems to care about outside of my computer.