Today I had a teacher tell me that a family member of theirs attempted suicide with pills.
I asked why he didn’t seem more concerned, and he replied with “people who attempt overdose are just attention seeking.”
Tell that to my grandma while she had to shower me for a month because I couldn’t stand after my overdose.
Tell that to my younger cousin who didn’t understand why I slept for three days straight.
Tell that to my bestfriend who saw me cry in every moment I was awake for two weeks after I swallowed those little pieces of hell.
Tell that to my brother who watched me vomit up everything I ate because my stomach was on fire.
Tell that to my teachers who watched me fail my exams because I was so dizzy and out of it I couldn’t stand, let alone concentrate.
Tell that to my mum, who watched me violently shake, sweat, convulse and cry in her arms because I didn’t want to be alive.
Go on, tell them it’s attention seeking. I dare you.
Raise your hand if you’re straddling the line between crippling anxiety and not giving any fucks about anything
There needs to be a code word or something that means “my brain is fighting me every step of the way today and I feel like I’m going to vibrate out of my skin, so I need you to forgive everything and go slowly and speak softly and lower your expectations.” And then we could all just be like, “I know I said we could go to a movie tonight but… tangerines.” And the other person would nod and squeeze your elbow or rub your head and you wouldn’t feel like a failure.