All because I sleep through alarms and am easily triggered.

I feel absolutely completely fucking useless.

I thought the rage inside of me was gone.

I was wrong.

Clearly, there’s a reason I’m supposed to be completely and utterly alone.

Using my weighted blanket to try and help me because there’s never anyone here to tell me it’s going to be ok or give me a hug.

And yesterday for the first time I finally registered that Andrew doesn’t like certain conversations or must take how I’m speaking the wrong way because of how often he shuts certain conversations down. I always thought it was because he didn’t want me getting upset, but yesterday I wasn’t upset but it still happened.

No one understands me. No one.

I just want to feel worthy of a place on this planet but I don’t and I’m scared I never will.

My self harm and suicide urges are through the roof and I just can’t crying.

I type to try and distract how the knowledge that I don’t matter.

No one would even know if something happened to me and that thought alone crushes me.