Ended up cutting for the first time in I don’t even know how long. A very long time.
Called C, which just made me feel worse, but I couldn’t hang up or she’d call the cops on me. I couldn’t even explain to her why she was making me feel worse. She just makes me feel like she’s blaming me, like it’s my fault I’m in this place, like if I’d just try harder I could find some hope and feel better. She doesn’t mean to make me feel like that, but that’s how it is.
At least when I talk to A, I don’t feel worse. I don’t feel better, but right now nothing makes me feel better. (Well, her dog does. Her dog is fucking awesome.) But I didn’t feel like I could call A at 11:30 at night. She said I could call her if I didn’t feel safe, but it feels like a boundary violation to call her so late.
I just feel so alone and hopeless. I want somebody to save me, but I know that wouldn’t be enough because what I really want is for someone to go back in time and save child-me before she was so irreparably broken.
No one ever saved me. People could’ve, but they didn’t, and that grief is more than I can bear.
I look around and I just HATE people. Everyone who didn’t save me back when I could still be saved. Families that love their kids. People who have any measure of financial security. I look at these people and I hate them so much I want to hurt them. At least then I wouldn’t be alone with this unendurable pain.