Everything's not alright and I would rather...

Hello. Even though I've been posting for a while and I have no followers yet, I want to give a proper introduction of myself. 

My name is Ruby Nichole Guardiola. I am fifteen years old, going on sixteen this year on May 30th. I have (self-diagnosed) anxiety problems and depression. I know that you may think that it being self-diagnosed it's not reliable and nothing really serious but we may never know. I haven't gone to the doctors for anything yet. No therapist. No psychologist. Nothing. It's just me living in my own shitty world. 

I know a few of you older people are saying, "it's just teen angst" or "it's just a phase."

I have been disgusted and embarrassed by my weight since I was in Kindergarten, if I recall correctly. Can you imagine being so young and starting to dislike yourself so much? Over time, the hatred I had for myself built up. I remember constantly being asked by my grandma to lose weight/go on a diet/exercise/etc. She didn't mean it in a bad way; she just wanted me to be healthy. Either way, it got me down and it still does when I think about it. I didn't feel good enough. Eventually it got worst. It wasn't just me being fat that got to me. My face is ugly. My hair is just, bleh. My skin is terrible. I hate the way I have dark pigmentation between my breasts and inner thighs. I hate how fat my arms were. I hate how I had a wart on my nose and now I hate how I have a scar from removing the wart. I hate my teeth. I hate my rolls. I hate my personality. I hate how I'm not doing good enough in school. I hate how I'm not nearly as talented as other people. I just hate a lot of things about me.

This hate effected me so much that I resorted to self-harming. I began self-harming a little after fifth grade. They were just small cuts using a knife. Knives didn't do much damage yet they did leave marks on the skin for days. Eventually I began using razors from box cutters. They were still fairly small cuts, but a lot of small cuts. Eventually I learned a new technique for the blade to go in deeper, making scars last longer on the skin. These were just on my wrists. I began cutting my thighs when I was fourteen. I have cut words into my thighs many times. At a point, I have cut my stomach. I have not used the self harm methods of burning and bruising myself yet. I still to this point self harm. 

I often attempt to starve myself. Whenever I fail at doing so, I hate myself so much; sometimes I cut because the shame I feel from failing at starving myself.

I have not attempted suicide once. I'm too much of a coward. Also, I care too much about what others will feel when I'm gone. It hurts me thinking about how my friends Taylor, Inri, Loren, Janeht, and my family would feel if I succeeded in my escape. 

Notice how I use the word escape.

I was only bullied up until middle school; that's when it stopped. It didn't matter if it continued or not; the damage was done.

I'm now in high school and I'm basically a loner. I started off being in a huge social group but after realizing how hard it is being with people you can't trust, my number of friends decreased. I would also like to add that at a point my depression nearly ended my friendship with my best friend Taylor. Taylor and I both started out the same way. We had the same outlook on life and the people in it. Towards the end of the year, she became more happier, or at least she began to smile more instead of openly frown. In her happy conversations about her getting hit on or her making a new friend, I'd say something and it would just bring the whole conversation down and she'd get mad at me. So, I kept my distance. It's a new school year and everything's fine again. Except this year I only have three to five friends. I refer to certain good acquaintances    as "friends" though for short (plus it's not like those people don't mean anything to me, I just don't have a special bond with them like I do with Taylor, Loren, and Inri). 

On the topic of Inri, I only met him last summer (which were my worst days) and he's helped me through some shit without him actually knowing. He just has this really bright and joyful personality. It's like when I'm around him or when I talk to him on the phone his happiness just kinda runs off of him and into me. He's what I needed in my life and I'm so grateful for him being there. As cheesey as this may sound: He's the light in my darkness.

To summarize my anxiety problems: I can't be around a huge group of people without feeling like the whole weight of the world is on my shoulders. I can't walk around in public without feeling like people are talking shit about me. I can't do well in school without feeling like a complete failure. I constantly get anxiety/panic attacks.

This is not all of what lead me to be this way.
Even though I've been through less than what other's has gone through, doesn't mean I don't suffer the same way. It's still painful. It hurts. A lot. I'm trying to cope but sometimes I can't. I contemplate suicide a lot (but then my dumb ass realizes that I don't know how to commit suicide/I don't have the "tools" for it). I can't help it. It's gotten to the point where even the person I care for the most can't even stop me from cutting. But I stay on this world anyway.

I stay because I'm hoping that there's hope for me, if that makes sense.

I want to do so much good.

I like to sing. I can't write songs for shit yet but I can practice and learn.

I want to help people, even if I can't help myself.

I want to be somebody's inspiration. 

No matter what, I want to save someone's life, with or without music. 

I just want to mean something. Not to something huge to the world, but to people. 

Maybe that'll be my escape.