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Pain of Diabetes

I've had diabetes for a big chunk of my life. And as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well I'm not dead yet, but I sure as hell don't feel stronger. I've gone 8 years living life the way I want to, with the exception of needles and blood sugar testing. I used to weigh all of my food, measure everything, calculate it. It made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn't have the capiability of being a normal person. So, like any normal teenager, I stopped checking my blood sugar 5 times a day, stopped calculating everything down to the very last gram. And since my parents care about money more than they ever cared about me, they didn't notice. They didn't care when they saw me sweating or on the verge of fainting. My blood sugars got bad but not every day but just once in awhile. My parents wouldn't help me get them back down, wouldn't ever lend a helping hand when I needed one. My blood sugars haven't been any worse than the average teenager, but when my parents realized that I sometimes couldn't do their work and chores for them, they started making me write down my numbers so I could be monitered. I remember this one time. I was taking this needle but the needle must have went in at a wrong angle and it got stuck in my belly. When I tried to pull it out, it felt like a knife was stabbing me for every millimetre it came out. I went crying to my parents and they said "Just fucking rip it out you'really fine" and I now have a permanent bruise from it. speaking of, I have so many scars. On my stomach. On my legs. They're so ugly and they make me feel worthless. I can't wear bikinis in the swimming pool because people stare and I hate it. I hate being judged, especially because I'm so self-conscious. I got in really big trouble tonight. My insulin pump stopped working and I passed out on the floor because I couldn't fix it. My parents were home but didn't find me for a few hours. But I've been in such a bad mood lately, that I don't even care if I make it or not. That's what scares me. I think that one day it will be too much pressure and ill go too far with not caring for my diabetes.
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Today was hard... Struggling, fighting, all day to keep my head on straight. It was a mental fight. I have this fight inside my head every once and awhile, but the feeling comes sooner than it goes. I don't think it's healthy? I don't think it's right. Don't think it's sane. But here I go, keep on living like this, like nothing is wrong. A painted on illusion, causing delusion. My friends, my family, they don't know. They probably never will. I mean it's not like I think about suicide, sometimes I just think that it would feel better, To let it go drip drop, to let it slide from one end of my flesh to another. Sometimes I wonder. Would I feel better, feel different? I don't think these thoughts very often anymore, but I can feel them come more frequently lately. Masks are a curious thing. To hide one's self behind a painted, colored, drawn on canvas, deceiving everyone around you. I guess that's how I live, Quiet, alone. Always alone with myself. Afraid that one day I might get so confused by my own failure that I might snap, lose it. But what can I do? I only sounds like every other teenager, confused by their problems, upset with the world, unhappy, my pity everyday problems. When there are real issues out there that should be tended to. The problem is, that this mask I hide behind, stops people from believing my story.
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I'm sorta new at this whole blogging thing... But I've been feeling pretty down lately.

Not that I have a reason to be depressed, or even stressed. I mean, I know that a lot of kids would give to have the house I have, the friends I have, the money my parents have. It's just... I can't shake the feeling of this weight. It's dangling over my head, willing to crush me at anytime. It makes me sick to my stomach, and i feel as though I have to tip toe everywhere in life. I feel worthless, like a deadweight. I'm sure it's not that bad. But it feels bad. It feels as though I can't breathe without having that winded feeling, reminding me of the pain that I have. The pain has been there, for two years now. It doesn't get better, it only gets worse. It scares me... I scare me! The feeling of being scared of yourself... Or mad at yourself, is just horrid, impossible to explain. It feels as though even when things are going right, they're going wrong. Feels like everything, my whole world, is turned upside down, and there's no one there to make it rightside up. No support network. Sure, I have friends, and a best friend. But that best friend has a boyfriend, who cares about her as though his whole world revolves around her. I wish i had that

But that's not why I have depression. I used to love music.. Now I listen to it just to feel alive. It only sparks joy in me occasionally, when it used to keep a flame burning in my chest, strong and alive. I used to love painting, and drawing. But I lost the love for that a long time ago. Sure, I still do it. But it doesnt give me that feeling of exhileration like it used to. I wish it did, oh how I wish. But I bet no one wants to hear my stupid blog about my has-been hobbies. I bet no one will read it. But it's okay, because at lease my feelings are out in the open, not bottled up inside of me like they have been for so long. The feelings got so bad, so dark, that I had to do something, tell someone, even if it is only my computer.

I miss that feeling of joy, those moments that made your heart feel as though it would convulse of joy. I miss being able to respond "good" truthfully when someone asks me how I am. I miss feeling proud of myself, confident that I was invincible, able to conquor the world with my mind and my heart. I used to think I could make a change in the world. Maybe I still will, who knows. I wish I could say that I'm proud of who I am. But fat chance. Because I don't remember the last time someone straight up said "I'm proud of you" and I can't bring myself to say it to myself, because it's not true.. I'm a failure. I'm someone who can't do anything right, someone who puts on a happy face even though I know that nobody cares. I mean, I could be wrong, people could care. And some of them show it. But whenever I let someone in, I get hurt. Or I hurt them. Or both. Isolation doesn't work, I need to have human interaction, even if it does mean that I'm that person who fakes a smile, just so she can try and trick herself into the absurd fact of happiness. It doesn't work, but sometimes it works temporarily.

Anyway. that was my first blog. Not sure if I like blogging yet, but maybe I'll write again. We will see... Goodbye for now.

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