I used to love summer.

I don’t anymore. The months following up to summer all I see is posts about getting “the perfect summer body”- What to eat, what to do, how many steps to walk a day. At what age did we start caring about how we look. At what age did we decide that a number on the scale can control our life. I wake up in the morning, go on the scale and that’s how I decide what or even if I’m going to eat that day. I want to go back to when we were young. We would chase after the ice cream truck with the sun beaming in the 90 degree weather. We would run around in the park, in the heat, not caring about how we looked. Not caring if our hair was up or if there was makeup on our face or if the slim fit summer shirt made us look fat. We were so innocent , we were so young. When did we become someone who cared. Take me back to those days when I can eat that trucks ice cream without feeling guilt and crying later on, without skipping dinner because I had a sweet treat earlier even though you already skipped breakfast and lunch. At what age did we start caring so much about how we looked. I miss loving summer. I miss loving every single day. I miss ice cream and pizza and pasta and fries. I miss being able to enjoy food without the shame it was seasoned with. Take me back to before the number started controlling my life.

I feel useless

I feel sad

I feel worthless

Not good enough.

I feel so much at one time but I also don’t.

I wanna cry but all I can shed is a tear.

I just want to be in the company of someone but no one is ever available lately.

If I was a priority then time would have been made for me.

I’m always there. A text away.

I love my friends but recently I feel that I’m just some random sad weirdo begging for their attention.

I wish I was high right now. And I hate getting high. Or better yet drunk. I love getting drunk.

Eveyone is so busy lately.

I just go to my room everyday. Sitting here, waiting for something to change. Shedding that one tear cause that’s all I have left. With empty promises and a broken soul.

I spoke to my therapist about self harm.

I’m over 4 months clean. But talking about it and thinking about it and this deep loneliness makes me want to do it.

I’m trying to stop drinking. So can’t do that.

Vaping isn’t being strong enough for me.

And edibles fucking suck.

I need advice. I need help. And maybe a hug. lol

I hate hugs but I actually love them.

It’s like your two hearts connecting.

Like they’re giving each other a high five.

I have friends. I have a family. I have best friends who I can confide in. So why do I feel so fucking lonely. Why do I feel embarrassed when I tell my friend that my therapist told me I have depression. I’m not sad enough, lonely enough, depressed enough to have depression.

I feel Ike I failed at having depression. I don’t look depressed enough to have depression. But I feel depressed enough to have it. The problem is people can’t feel what I feel.

I am alone here. We will all always be alone. There may be people around us. People talking to us, listening to us, loving us, befriending us but in the end we’re all alone when we go to sleep at night, who do we have? Yeah we may have someone in the bed next to us. But all we have is ourselves, we are alone in the end. Alone with our mind. Alone with our thoughts. Alone with our broken soul.

Just some random thoughts on a Tuesday night at 11pm. 💌

– T.P

When something is broken you get rid of it.

When something doesn’t work you get rid of it. When something is falling apart you get rid of it. When something is ripped and torn to pieces you get rid of it. When something has been shattered you get rid of it.

What if I am this something?

Do I get rid of myself?

-T.P.

January 2023 I got drunk.

Extremely drunk.

I was hanging out with my friends who told me it won’t be fun unless I was drunk. So like I said I was extremely drunk.

My friends decided to meet up with some guys, who I didn’t know.

I wasn’t gonna be the party pooper so I said “ye forsure let’s go.”

Little did I know that those 4 words would change my life forever.

I had over 13 ounces of straight up vodka.

I felt disgusting. But I guess I didn’t look disgusting because some guy came over to me and told me I was pretty.

We talked and after a while he said, “wanna go for a walk.” I ofc answered “yes.”

But that fucking walk really screwed me the fuck over… because he kissed me.

That’s when I fell for it. Is this what it was like to be kissed? Is this the taste of another persons lips? Is this sense of euphoria real? Are my eyes supposed to be opened or closed?

Now before reading on let me explain: I have never kissed someone before. I was saving my first kiss for marriage. It’s against my religion to do what I did. I have barely hung out with guys previously and have gone to an all girls school.

Except, we didn’t just kiss. We touched. Well, more like he touched. I remember him touching my breasts over my bra and my body on top of him and our warmth combining. Him squeezing my butt and our tongues in each other’s mouths.

When I felt his hands on me I felt surprised, even a bit confused. I’ve never done this before, do I continue or do I stop it? I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to pull away, I wanted to say stop but my mouth was frozen and my legs weren’t running. So I let it happen. What could I have even done while being that drunk?

At 3:30 am I realized I need to get the fuck back to my air b n b. So that’s what I did. He made sure I got back and then I broke down. What did I do? How could I have done this? No one could ever know. I’m a disappointment. One more thing to add to my list of secrets.

I recently dmed him- telling him how pissed I was and ashamed and angry. I believed it helped a bit. But in the end it wasn’t all his fault, it was mine as well. I am to blame.

That night my life changed. I stopped looking forward to my first kiss. I became ashamed, who would want me after that? How could I have let it get that far? A piece of me broke that night. I’m not sure if I can ever glue it back together. I’m not sure when I can start the healing process. Everyday I have guilt of what I let happen. But, hopefully, slowly, I can learn to accept it. It happened, it’s in the past, and I can’t change it.

“𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤, 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕡𝕤 𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕚 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕤𝕠 𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥.”

– T.P.

I used to cut, vape and drink all in the same day. I have gone down to basically vaping. My vape ran out of liquid a few days ago and all the vapes in this country are double the fucking amount than in America. So I didn’t buy one.

The next day after my vape was finished I drank alcohol. It’s Saturday night right now (technically 3:15 am on a Sunday) and I wanted to drink so badly on Thursday night and tonight and neither days worked out. So I haven’t vaped or drank in quite a few days.

Something popped up on my social media feed a few minutes ago about self harm. And I thought about it and checked up some more. And I’ve been clean for so long. And I didn’t want to start again! What would I even use, I don’t have those art and craft knifes with me?!

So I went to my air b n bs kitchen draw and saw scissors and I cut my wrist/arm but only a few cuts and it bothered me that it didn’t bleed as much as my knives as home but it is what it is. So I made some cuts, when I was done I realized that I cut because I was unable to vape or drink in a few days.

I realized I need something to help me cope. If I’m not doing one of these things I might turn to drugs eventually. (And honestly, the only thing stopping me from not doing drugs is that I’m unable to find a dealer.)

I’m fucking horrified by the scars I see on my thighs yet I still continue adding new scars. I’m scared of lung cancer yet I continue vaping. I enjoy my kidneys yet I don’t stop drinking. I’m fucking terrified of what I’m doing, who I’m becoming.

These things are my coping mechanism. What I’m thinking right now is what is it that I need to cope with that I feel a need to do these things? Hm…

I don’t know. I may never know.

(Maybe that’s what therapist are for I think lol)

🄿🅁🄾🄱🄻🄴🄼🅂 🄰🅁🄴 🄽🄾🅃 🅃🄷🄴 🄿🅁🄾🄱🄻🄴🄼; 🄲🄾🄿🄸🄽🄶 🄸🅂 🅃🄷🄴 🄿🅁🄾🄱🄻🄴🄼.

-T.P.

I don’t think you want a friends like me.

A friend who drinks alcohol… by themselves.

A friend who is well, sad all the time.

A friend who cuts because that’s what relaxes her.

A friend who vapes because it feels peaceful.

A friend who hides all her insecurities and vulnerabilities.

A friend who cries herself to sleep.

A friend who hates herself constantly.

A friend who tries to not eat.

A friend who steals her sisters addi to stop the hunger pangs.

A friend who no matter what she does never feels happy.

A friend who will lie so no one will ever see her shame.

A friend who needs to see blood to be reminded she’s alive.

A friend who constantly makes herself suffer.

A friend who knows that the vomiting the next morning isn’t worth it but does it anyway.

A friend who falls asleep at 5 am because of her anxiety.

A friend who lashes out when she’s lonely.

A friend who is looking for the neighborhood drug dealer.

A friend who sees no future for herself.

A friend who hides her alcohol from her parents.

A friend who prays that her vape will never be found.

A friend who is in constant fear of her secrets coming out.

A friend who’s depression just never seems to linger.

A friend who is self destructive.

A friend who just needs a hug.

A friend who is broken.

So why would you want a friend like me?

I know I wouldn’t.

-T.P.