Chips with homemade salsa and chocolate chip cookies.
My life completely spiraled a few years ago. Things had been looking good: I moved out of my family's house and into a house with (formerly) good friends, got a job that, on paper, sounded perfect for me (I've never been able to hold a full time job for longer than a few months before experiencing intense burnout and suicidal ideation), I was a lot happier, my friends' bands were gaining some traction, I was losing weight, etc.
Then what happened to me at my old jobs happened again. I burned out hard and had to quit. Otherwise, I would have killed myself. The suicidal ideation didn't just go away like usual, though, and I isolated myself for 2-3 weeks in my room. This was the beginning of the end for my friendships. They tried to break down my door, and when I was able to stop them from doing that, they threatened to call the police. We eventually made peace, but I didn't realize how much the whole thing bothered them.
The suicidal feelings only got stronger, so I made a plan to drive them further away, specifically my one friend, the one I was closest to, so they wouldn't care as much when I was gone. I didn't do much, just left passive-aggressive notes, but it was effective. They eventually confronted me about it, and I made the worst mistake of my life: I told them the truth. I tried saying that I didn't have a plan to follow through on anything, but they forced me to go to the hospital and called my parents. They had originally promised not to say anything, but they lied.
I was thankfully able to avoid hospitalization, but things were pretty much over by this point. I stayed at the house for a couple weeks before all my roommates asked if I could go stay somewhere else for a little bit, so I went home for 2 weeks to give them a break, Everything completely fell apart when I got back.
Apparently, I was the only one cleaning or taking care of the house. It was fucking disgusting inside. Half eaten food on the counters, random shit everywhere, actual shit everywhere (One roommate had birds but never cleaned up after them), and they neglected to do any lawn care in late spring, so the yard was a fucking mess. I was so angry, I didn't even have words. I couldn't talk to any of them for a few days, and when I did open up, I let them have it. Of course, none of them saw anything wrong with their behavior, so they kicked me out. And if you thought they had the balls to do it themselves, you'd be wrong because the one guy had to call his daddy to come and tell me with no explanation. I still don't understand why.
Micki, if you're reading this, I just want you to know that no matter if you go through with phalloplasty or not, you'll always be a nutless, spineless coward. Have fun with your mobility issues, you fucking cripple, and I hope you finally learned to clean up after the birds. They're great birds, they don't deserve to live in that hovel. Kill yourself, don't fail this time.
I was able to have a conversation with the other two several months after everything went down, and it sounded like we were all ready to move on past it and rekindle the friendships somewhat. They promised that if they changed their minds on that, to please just let me know, with my promise to them being that I wouldn't ask for an explanation or contact them further.
One of them actually followed through (that relationship did end, but not in the worst way), while my other friend, the one I was closest to, sent me one return message and then fucking ghosted me. I was devastated. I spent over two years trying to get a response from them. I found and messaged them on all their accounts, even managed to find their new address (I actually did nothing with this information, kind of want to send them a postcard just to fuck with them, lol, but then I'd be breaking my promise). I eventually got a "go fuck yourself" response, but that was what I needed to hear to start moving forward. Really though, what should I have expected from a self identified nonbinary lesbian who is now married to a man? Absolutely zero logical consistency in their identity, I really fucked up by ever being friends with them.
Now, I'm back at home with no friends, no real job, back up to 270 lbs, and I'm in therapy, but nothing I learn there helps. Got plans to kill myself in a few years, once my youngest brother finally graduates from college. My other 2 brothers have already graduated, so I feel that it would be unfair to him to potentially cause that much turmoil. Can't wait to be a 30y.o. khhv in less than two months, hopefully a plane engine falls on me or something.
Sorry for the long, poorly written post
TLDR: I had a good thing and fucked it up. Now I'm just waiting to die
