Everything I do is pointless.
I can hear sirens screaming from the streets outside. Whirling past my house-back and forth. All night. Every night. Most nights I can't help but wish they were for me. Not because anything awful was done to me-- God knows I don't want that again. But because I finally did something awful to myself. That for once I did something that wasn't.
I could do a million things. And I would never change. I could be the polar opposite of what I am now and I would still hate myself. I just can't help it. And to work to fix it just feels irrelevant. Inconsequential. My existence, my life, and everything I do within it is nothing more than some sick joke.
My father found out this past year that I was raped. And I was afraid of having to talk about it but relieved because I thought that I would finally get help or justice or something out of this. Nothing happened. He didn't do anything. Didn't even talk to me about it.
I told teachers. I reached out. They didn't do anything. They were there for me, unlike my family, which was nice. But still didn't get me any more help. They tried but got distracted with other, more important, tasks and stopped.
My friend found out. My best friend. He doesn't even talk to me anymore. He hates me. He avoids me because I'm such a fucking burden on his life. All he did was give me a hug and try to convert me to his religion. Imagine that-- you find out your friend was used as a fleshlight at age 11 and all you do is push your religion on them.
None of it helped. It was all just pointless.
I don't want to do this anymore. I can't keep pushing for things to get better only to get pushed back even farther again. Only for things to get worse.
What's wrong with me?
Why can't things get better? People tell you all the time that time heals all wounds. They tell you things will get better. But this summer it will be 7 years and nothing has changed.
So what's the fucking point?