Panic Attack

 I lost my gloves for a while. I nearly put this message into tumblr:

'where the hell are my gloves?
I don't know how I lost them, they were RIGHT NEXT TO ME and now they aren't, I haven't moved for like 2 hours but they're gone
Now I'm freaking out I do not like this I don't want any new scars before marching band I am so stupid I hate this
I hate this I hate this where are my gloves
Mini panic attack I hate this'

I hate my fucking gloves hate my gloves need my gloves hate my gloves.

I found them soon afterward but I'm still in panic mode and I hate myself for being so damn dependent on these

And I hate how much I was going to worry people by posting that
Or how much I wanted to worry people
I mean I hate this part of myself, hate it, but I need people to know what I'm going through. Maybe because I know I can't trust myself to keep me safe sometimes. Maybe because I just want someone to be afraid for me. Maybe because I still haven't gotten over how terrible those 3 years were when I was dying every day and not one of my friends noticed.

My pain goes so easily unnoticed and it makes me think that if I were to slip away no one would care.

And now I've told most of them about what I went through and even about self harm, but no one asks me questions or wonders if I'm okay or picks up my little hints and it's like they have already forgotten how I'm breaking or are trying to ignore it so that they don't have to deal with me, and I hate that. Because I'm not worth fretting over. 

And that is the most egotistical thing ever but I can't help it, I'm an egotist and I'm selfish and I'm so afraid that no one cares about me and I'm going to die and no one will notice and no one will care and maybe they'll see me dead and hate themselves and wonder why they didn't do anything and

I hate that thought even more than not being wanted.

I just hate how easily I get hurt and cut up and scarred without my friend's notice.

And I hate how Rachel has been the only person in my life who checked up on me and made sure I was okay, and how even though everyone said she didn't care, she's been one of the only people to take a proactive stance in keeping me safe.

She's also the one that forces me to tell others and get help and not do stupid crap.

Maybe that's because she's been where I am and knows what works, meanwhile all my friends have no idea what to do with someone who is hurting and they get scared and don't want to make things worse.

But I've told them time and time again, that all I want is for someone to tell me 'I don't want to see you hurt, I don't want to see you dead'

and they nod and they understand but they never, ever tell me those things.

And I called my best friend and asked her if she would be sad if I killed myself or if I died, and she said "I guess," and "I think people would."

I know she just spoke like that because she doesn't know what to say in those situations, she told me that herself, but those are straightforward questions with easy answers and

I guess
I think

Damn it. I need something concrete from someone important.

I need someone to tell me not to hurt myself.
I need those words to be remembered when I'm about to do something awful.
I need that, even if you don't mean it, just say it.
I'm not sure how long denial and assumptions will keep me going anymore.
'I think they care' worked in seventh grade when I was optimistic and full of hope, but it can only take me so damn far.
I can only believe it so long until someone fucking tells me that they would actually care if I die, because so far the only things I've heard make me believe no one would give a fuck if I did.

Might as will give in.

....Damn it, I hate this, I hate this so much. I hate this dependency.

I am trying so, so hard to save myself right now, but no matter what I do, it's just....
ugh.
I'm tired.
I am so, so tired of chasing life when it doesn't want me back.

I am so goddamn tired of being the only one who cares. I am tired of being called selfless and kind and nice.
I want to be selfish. I want to be that selfish, whiny brat. I don't want to hide my words anymore, I don't want to think about how I might annoy someone or be seen as a bother, because goddamnit I am unhelathy and I am breaking and I NEED to be that person who asks 'do you care about me' because
I don't even know if anyone does anymore,

ASK ME. WHAT IS WRONG.
ASK ME. IF I AM OKAY.

Tell me if YOU ARE SCARED, YOU ARE SAD.

I want to know that my friends actually am happy if I'm alive.

Do I make a difference?
or would everyone's lives be exactly the same if I had never been here?

 .....I should talk to someone. But every time I try to think of how to bring it up, I can't.

I think I'm done panic attacking now. Wow, I hate myself. I still don't want to bother anyone with this.
How sad is it that i can't trust anyone around me to care, or I care too much for them to tell them.
Damnit.
I hate this.
.
EDIT:

The worst thing is, even if someone did tell me those things, I know it wouldn't fix anything.  It wouldn't make me happier. I'd continue being horribly, terribly sad from time to time. Depression is a part of me now. Even though I now have the ability to enjoy life, put most of my suffering behind me, got rid of the hyperventilation, crying, insomnia, and the worst of the self harm out of the way, I'll still think dark thoughts like this from time to time. The damage is irreparable.

But at least, if someone said it, I might treasure those words and keep myself from making anything worse.

I want to get through all of this, completely beat my self harming habits, and walk the world as an average person without all of this trouble and brokenness. But first, I need the proper strength.
.
Life is good.