I don't know

Tw: Self-Harm Death. I dream of it from when I wake up in the morning to the time I close my eyes and I vividly imagine my own demise. I dont know who I am anymore. I dont know what I'm doing anymore. my imagination is on the brink of insanity right on the outskirts or reality and the only thing keeping me together is the promise that I made to myself. But last night, I broke that promise that I've so desperately been keeping for almost a year. I stole something yesterday and got caught. It hurt my parents so bad that the guilt I was feeling began to eat me up alive. I tried to apologize to my mother...telling her that I was sorry for embarrassing her the way I did. That I was sorry for being such a fuck-up and how I hated myself for it. How I will always hate myself for it and she said "You think I give a fuck about you hating yourself? You should hate yourself. I dont think I can ever trust you again. You embarrassed me again." And she was right. I was an embarrassment. An embarrassment that deserved nothing. That deserved only to bathe in the despair and maliciousness of my own thoughts. That deserved to look in the mirror and think to myself that hate is the only answer. The only string binding me together. But it didnt stop there. I got consumed. Consumed in my feelings. Consumed by the guilt and the pain of causing someone else so much trouble, it's not the first time, and it pushed me back to my old friend. The only friend that's stuck by me since the age of 11. My razor. I hadnt touched him in so long that the feeling was unfamiliar to me. The sharp cut of the blade against my skin did nothing to relieve the stress and anxiety that built up in such a short amount of time. My thighs, with so much fat, could barely be slit with the metal tip. The need to cut down the flesh of my wrist built up inside me so bad that I had to write this. It's haunting my dreams. I realized that I broke my promise when the slits on my thigh began to swell. No blood flowing out like I hoped. Only the simple bruising of yet another task I couldnt get right. Once I realized this I stashed away the blades until I could play with them once more. I feel numb. I feel lost. I feel like I've learned nothing. I disappointed my father. The one person I could talk to about almost anything and who trusted me to grow up and be the strong, smart daughter I've proven myself to be in the past. And my mother...my mother I feel nothing for but hate. Strong bouts of hate and disgust...but that's a different story for a later time. When I stole the items...I knew I shouldnt have. Did I think I was going to get away with it? Yes. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was not the right thing to do and yet I did it. I had the money to pay for it for the first time in my life and I decided to steal it. Why? Force of habit? So used to being broke that the simplest task of going to the store can cause such a riot in my heart and in my brain. I couldnt sleep. I cant sleep. I dont want to sleep anymore. I feel like God made a mistake. Like this time he really screwed up. I'm so tired of living when I havent even discovered life yet. I'm so tired of pretending that I'm okay. That I'm not being eaten by my own demons day in and day out. I am so tired of saying that I am fine when the truth is that if I had a bullet and had to choose between myself and Donald Trump I would choose myself two times over. I am just tired. I laugh. I smile. I'm happy and the lies constantly continue to grow. I opened my eyes to darkness and I want to close them to darkness too. And to think that this all triggered due to $6.48 worth of stolen goods. Talk about pitiful.