Percabeth One Shots

I APOLLOgise

Hi guys, y'all are great followers and good people out there. I'm sorry I've not been posting, it's just a really hard time for me lately. I have severe paranoia and fears that make me feel like everyone hates me and that they will leave me if they ever see who I truly am. And in the effort to prevent that, I started lying to my family, my friends, and eventually to myself. It didn't help that last January I was called a slut, a whore, a gold digger and then asked if I liked f*cking my best friend by a guy two years younger than me. I had terrible self-esteem, and I still do. I contemplated suicide too. I am normally very rational, but my lying caused me to have difficulty separating doubt, truth, and emotion, and I would often find myself reaching for something to end it. 

My paranoia stopped me from seeking help, and I started isolating myself. Since as far back as I could remember, I felt like I had more than one entity in my head, and all of them were toxic. I didn't know what was 'normal', and I thought that everyone was like this. And then, around last September, the other entities vanished all of a sudden, and I was left with a bottomless hole in my heart. I would feel so empty, and a lot of negative emotions would flow through me randomly, causing me to struggle with what was real and what was not. On a school trip, I even had a small breakdown, and yet I kept trying to tell myself I was fine, and that I was overreacting. Aroundish December, I told my crush I liked him, and it was really, really hard for me. I felt broken inside after that. It felt like he had ghosted me (we were good friends) and I once again struggled.

February thirteenth, I confronted him and he told me it was a misunderstanding and asked what was the big deal. He did not intend to hurt me, but he did. And now, months later, again due to my own mindsets, I began to feel as though my family and friends had abandoned me. The emptiness returned, and I realised I could no longer tell apart my identity in front of others and my true self. I began to do self-harm, and even recorded it in my diary. I put in a few drops of the blood that I spilled and noted how it got there. 

My consciousness could no longer be in control of itself. I felt like I was being ripped apart every second. I couldn't tell what was true of me and what wasn't. Then my diary began containing scribbles and rantings, like those of a madman. I again refused to call for help because of my mental health, and it has severely cost me. Even now, my crippling fears stop me from communicating my health to my family. I am only able to do it here because of the fact that no one here knows me in real life. 

I do not know if I want to be healed. Some days my brain outright rejects it. I am again contemplating suicide, and I am trying my level best to get rid of it. My state right now is forbidding me from writing. I cannot write, speak, or think what I want to. I have been unable to write in my diary, and I cannot write stories anymore. 

A few times, I filled the pages of my diary with one sentence, over and over. The first time it was 'I am not inane'. The next, it was 'I am not a good person'. After that, I wrote 'I am fake', and 'I hate myself'. The last time, it was 'I want to die'. I came as close as putting a kitchen knife to my jugular a few days after that. But then my mind convinced me that living was the true curse. The weight of life was sometimes a curse compared to the mercy of death.

This is what I am living with right now. I hope you can forgive me for being so needy, but I think I just need some time for myself. I always shoulder the burdens of those around me in the belief that it might make me a better person. Here is my confession: I am not a good person for lying, and I sure as hell am never going to attain salvation. But the least I can do is tough it out and keep writing stories for all you people out there who love me for these brilliant stories.

word count: 783

06/05/2024