/soy/ - Soyjaks

This document is the culmination of completely raw and unfiltered thoughts. I will say triggering things, I will not hold back. Do not read this if you are sensitive, my stupid words aren’t worth it.
It’s another one of those days where I feel empty again, the same feeling that’s become all too similar through years of experiencing it. By now it’s almost like its own emotion… Does numbness count as an emotion, or a lack thereof?
My only way that I’ve ever healthily coped with this feeling is through writing… It’s always my last resort before slitting my skin or trying to kill myself, and now is one of those times I feel like doing one of those again.
I have a great life, one that some may be envious of on the outside, but I’m sure if someone was thrust into my life—my body—my mind, they would not survive long. I don’t want to die… I don’t want to kill myself, but it scares me to know that I’m one bad day away, one mistake away from being gone forever…
The best way I write is through recounting, so… I guess I’ll start with a little autobiography to address some of my problems indirectly.
I was born on September 8th, 2007 at some time around 6:00 to 6:30, I’m not sure whether AM or PM… I was overdue by a few weeks, and almost killed my mother when I was born.
After that, I remember almost nothing but brief fragments of memories that are long forgotten, not even archived by pictures or videos. I doubt anything of that time really has any value in remembering anyways.
As a younger child, I was always imaginative and creative. I loved to dream of something in my mind and bring it to real life, whether that was through art, pretending, or making movies. I was rarely violent, got along with my sister well, but was always a little different than the other kids my age. I liked different things, and acted differently too, but nobody paid any attention to that. I thought it was normal.
I never truly had many friends, but in Grade 3, I had a little group of people that would do art and create stories with me—something that I really enjoyed doing, but was sometimes teased about, as the other boys thought it was “girly” to be creative. There were a few people that I actually enjoyed being around, but most of them had other friends they would rather be with or were told not to be around me.
The point is, I never had a real best friend, someone that I talked with every day or could trust completely… Nobody that I could give my life to and trust them not to ruin it. Even in Grade 3 I was a recluse, sitting by myself on the brick wall and blissfully drawing or reading…
Years later, everyone grew up. I grew up too, but it felt strange. I both felt more mature than everyone yet less mature than everyone at the same time. I was considered a gifted child, but after Grade 3 I cared less.
Everyone stopped caring about me. Nobody wanted to be around me. Nobody wanted to draw or read with me. They were all preoccupied with things that I viewed as useless or a waste of time.