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This document is the culmination of completely raw and unfiltered thoughts. I will say triggering things, I will not hold back. Do not read this if you are sensitive, my stupid words aren’t worth it.
It’s another one of those days where I feel empty again, the same feeling that’s become all too similar through years of experiencing it. By now it’s almost like its own emotion… Does numbness count as an emotion, or a lack thereof?
My only way that I’ve ever healthily coped with this feeling is through writing… It’s always my last resort before slitting my skin or trying to kill myself, and now is one of those times I feel like doing one of those again.
I have a great life, one that some may be envious of on the outside, but I’m sure if someone was thrust into my life—my body—my mind, they would not survive long. I don’t want to die… I don’t want to kill myself, but it scares me to know that I’m one bad day away, one mistake away from being gone forever…
The best way I write is through recounting, so… I guess I’ll start with a little autobiography to address some of my problems indirectly.
I was born on September 8th, 2007 at some time around 6:00 to 6:30, I’m not sure whether AM or PM… I was overdue by a few weeks, and almost killed my mother when I was born.
After that, I remember almost nothing but brief fragments of memories that are long forgotten, not even archived by pictures or videos. I doubt anything of that time really has any value in remembering anyways.
As a younger child, I was always imaginative and creative. I loved to dream of something in my mind and bring it to real life, whether that was through art, pretending, or making movies. I was rarely violent, got along with my sister well, but was always a little different than the other kids my age. I liked different things, and acted differently too, but nobody paid any attention to that. I thought it was normal.
I never truly had many friends, but in Grade 3, I had a little group of people that would do art and create stories with me—something that I really enjoyed doing, but was sometimes teased about, as the other boys thought it was “girly” to be creative. There were a few people that I actually enjoyed being around, but most of them had other friends they would rather be with or were told not to be around me.
The point is, I never had a real best friend, someone that I talked with every day or could trust completely… Nobody that I could give my life to and trust them not to ruin it. Even in Grade 3 I was a recluse, sitting by myself on the brick wall and blissfully drawing or reading…
Years later, everyone grew up. I grew up too, but it felt strange. I both felt more mature than everyone yet less mature than everyone at the same time. I was considered a gifted child, but after Grade 3 I cared less.
Everyone stopped caring about me. Nobody wanted to be around me. Nobody wanted to draw or read with me. They were all preoccupied with things that I viewed as useless or a waste of time.
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The things that I did which felt right became strange and unacceptable… Everyone changed, but I stayed the same.
Grade 5 and 6 I burnt out. I was no longer smart. I became anxious and kept to myself because if I was to show myself, I would be mocked and bullied. Every positive trait that I had disappeared…
My charity, gone.
My kindness, gone.
My expression, gone.
My innocence, gone.
My individuality, gone.
My creativity, gone.
I hid everything so well that I became a different person. I killed my past self to live as a fraud.
Everything that made me myself was gone. I hadn’t felt human contact for a year and a half by the next year. Nobody had hugged me, nobody had told me that I meant anything to them, nobody had indicated that I really meant anything to anyone.
No matter how hard I tried to be noticed in a positive light, I was always ridiculed, or ignored.
So I went to the internet.
I found ways to cope on the internet, a place where being a fraud was almost second nature. “Fake” me blossomed into countless personas, countless attitudes, countless identities, that all became an extension of me—or what I wanted to be.
Living online caused my life to change. Once you puppeteer so many puppets, you lose focus on the one controlling it all. I forgot who I was, unable to see myself as anything but one of the puppets I controlled.
Constantly wanting to be seen and heard caused me to develop an ego problem. I wanted to be better than everyone, just so that I would be praised, validated… Proved to be more than just a fraud. If someone could see my persona as real, it gave me hope that one day I could be real again.
My attachment issues also stemmed from this. The best way to be seen, is to do things that will garner attention, no matter how good or bad. And people saw this, knew it was one of my tendencies.
I was taken advantage of countless times during this period. People online used my need for validation to make me do depraved things. I would do anything that someone said if they promised me attention and praise… My body was used and degraded, and at times I was treated as less than human, but I couldn’t stop.
Every time I was given even a sliver of care, I was blind to the abuse that I was incurring.
I truly believed at this time that I was nothing more than an object, something that others could use for their own pleasure and benefit. I was 15 and 16, living life as a slave to my own need for attention.
It’s been two years.
I still have an ego problem.
I’ve attempted suicide twice.
I still do stupid things for attention.
But I still feel empty.
I thought that living life as my true self, or who I wanted to be would fix everything. If I could become the girl that I always envisioned myself as, everything would just disappear… but it’s still here.
My name is Zoe.
I’m 18 years old, and my life is going nowhere.
Don’t be like me.
Don’t fall into the same trap.
I love you all.
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snca
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And I'm free, free fallin'