Whelp. I've been suffering with this for about four-five months now. I never thought it would go on this long honestly. I have a doctors appointment on October 3rd to see if I can get a psychiatrist and hopefully get some sort of medication. Yay.
Oof, so into the actual post
For the entirety of this experience iv'e been really hyper-aware, also trying to predict whats going to happen (and being right) and stressing out about predicting something or hearing words at the same time I think them. So now I've gotten inetto the habit of overthinking everything about reality itself to the point where I don't even feel real.
Essentially it all feels like this dream I can't wake up from and I hate it. No one around me feels real. Not my family, not my friends, not my pets, and now, not even me.
One of the things that's really scary for me is the fact that there are literally people out there who have suffered for this for literally 10 years and are just then getting better, some not even. I don't want to live the rest of my teens years feeling like this and then looking back when I'm 30 and just being depressed at all the time I wasted on this.
Even then, it feels like I'll never get older, like I'm stuck in Hell.
Sometimes I think I'm in Hell and my life is just on a loop.
God I want to die so bad but I just can't bring myself to do it, because every time I think about it I have the tiniest twinge of hope that maybe, just maybe all of this is real.
I just feel so numb. I used to have panic attacks every time I thought of it, but now I feel nothing. I'm just so tired. I know I'm scared and sad but I don't feel it. I don't feel anything and I hate it.
Maybe if I die it will all end.
Or maybe it will just happen all over again.
I've started cutting my arms and legs because of how impulsive I get to hurt someone. Of course I wouldn't ever hurt anybody, but it feels like I would and then I get these weird dissociating moments when I do cut and then I just feel sick.
I feel so fake now like I'm not even real and I'm just some conscious controlling a body and telling it what to feel. Even writing my feelings down like this feels fake. Like I'm writing for someone else and have a perfectly normal life. I just feel like I'm not me. Whatever that means.
(oh, and don't worry. I'm probably not going to kill myself because of how much of a pussy I am.)