I'm sorry. It's clear that, no matter what I do, I cannot measure up to what people expect or want from me. It's been clear the moment I had a platform online as a kid.
I don't know anything about time management. Despite my best efforts, nothing's ever enough. I can't split my time evenly. That's my fault. I have too many friends. I help out on too many projects. People give me too much leniency with it, saying that it's okay if I struggle. But, clearly, it isn't, because every time I try to even out my time... someone gets hurt.
My goal in life is to speak up and prevent pain for marginalized people. People who struggle, can't speak for themselves for any reason. But... it's clear that I don't do a good job at that, if my actions even outside of my activism hurt the people I care about.
I should have never gotten into a relationship. It was too good to be true. I thought I found someone that complimented me as a person. But, in the end, all I've ever done was hurt them. I wasn't around enough. Even when I sacrificed time for myself to be with them, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. And that's my fault. Moments that, for once, seemed fine... it wasn't fine. It was too good to be true. It was a ticking timebomb. When, oh when, would the next time I hurt them come...? Even if I sacrificed two weeks with not hanging out in a friend group, it wasn't enough. It never was enough. And it's my fault for believing I would be enough. I'm sorry for getting your hopes up. I'm sorry for leading you on. I'm sorry I'm not enough. I'm sorry for expressing my needs. I'm sorry that I need to spend time with my friends. I'm sorry. Good partners don't hang out with anyone but their partner. I should just be like my mom when she was with my dad. I begged you for intensive therapy, but it's clear that I'm the problem. It always starts with me, when you tell me that you get hurt by me spending time elsewhere. It's clear I'm the problem. I'm sorry.
I don't know what will happen if I'm gone. My mom's going to blame herself when she learns I'm dead. She'll think, "I should have never left for Florida. I should have never went to support my friend with cancer. I should have never left without you. I should have never left you." She'll blame herself, and never move on. She'll... She might kill herself, too. After having to cut her own sister off so recently, too... And Trixie. She's clung onto me to closely within the past ten years. She's going to be so lost without me...
That's manipulative of me, isn't it? That I made the people I care about think they need me, that they can't live without me. They lived without me before I was in their lives, but... I fooled them, into loving me, caring for me. Perhaps the harassment that I get... maybe, it isn't harassment. It's the truth, isn't it? I twist things, I manipulate. I might have been groomed, but that doesn't mean I should call out fetishmining. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm looking too deep into things. That's what happened with Preparing With... I looked too deep into someone's comments, and it only allowed them reason to hurt me. I deserve it, for having different thoughts, for expressing them. It's... what I deserve, isn't it?
I took a shower and I shook as I reached for my razor. I took a shower to try and calm myself down, but instead, all I could think about was using the razor to pierce my skin open. Let myself bleed out, on the bath floor... I was so scared, I tightly gripped the razor, not even realizing I was holding it. I managed to shave my under-arms without hurting myself, but a piece of me regrets it. I should have done it.
... Maybe, tonight, when nobody is awake. Maybe then, I'll have vanquished my cowardness enough to finally do it. I never was able to break skin, but... maybe tonight... I could finally do something that all my life, I've struggled with.
I can't find it in me to speak. My throat is so tight, it refuses to let me make a sound... so, please, don't call me. It will only hurt you more.