I fucked up. It all started at the end of sophomore year during finals, I was so anxious about all my tests I let it get the better of my mental health. The suicidal thoughts came back, I think I might have self harmed (bruising) but I can’t remember it’s all a blur. I thought as soon as my tests were over I’d be okay again but that didn’t happen. Even when we were dating and I was literally the happiest I’d ever been in my whole life, I tried to kill myself again. I tied the rope, attached it to the rod in the closet where my clothes hang, put the noose around my neck, got up on my ikea stool and just stood there. Weeping. Now you’ve broken up with me and I’m not upset at you. I love you with all of my heart, if I know anything anymore it’s that I love you more than anyone and even if I forgot everything I’d still remember you before I remember my first name. Just, when I found out I finally caught Covid and then you texted me ten minutes later that now wasn’t the best time for you to be in a relationship, I felt like I was dying. I didn’t eat that day at all besides two small singular wheat crackers and that was a mistake because now not only are the suicidal thoughts back, I’m starving and bruising myself on a regular basis as well. It’s getting to the point where when I shower at night, shampooing my hair my hands return back covered in strands. I can almost see my ribs again and I know I’m a few weeks I’ll have reached the point where I’ll be able to watch my heart beat up and down again through the valley in my chest. My legs are covered in bruises. One of which is weeks old from the beginning of September and it still hasn’t faded a bit almost a month later. I’m hitting myself too hard but I don’t care. I worked so hard, I really really did but I fucked up and now I can’t stop. I want to cry all the time, I’m constantly holding back tears, I’m back where I was four years ago and I don’t know what to do.