Alone, useless, no strengh. Still fighting but losing

When I ask for help, people always say "talk to a friend". I lose my spirit and mumble "i have no friends".

When someone says "get involved in school/college" I just feel weak, because I had to give up or the pressure wouldn't have kept me alive any longer.

When I'm home alone, I feel empty inside and need to keep busy but sometimes end up losing my mind and wanting to slowly self-destruct.

At night, I barely can sleep. Tonight I was laying on my bed crying and begging for an end. After falling asleep for an hour or less, I woke up realizing my dream wasn't true and i had no one but my parents. I felt guilty for wanting to end it and felt like hurting myself but fought through it.

I seriously don't know how long I can fight the urge to hurt myself physically.

I can't say anything about how i'm feeling out of fear. What if they put me inpatient again? Force strong medication on me, again? I lost track of reality, that year i was on strong medication is a blur. I'm the way i am now - no college major, no friends, no nothing - because when I was finally getting friends and entering college, all fell apart because I wanted to be normal for once and was even harder when you have horrible side effects.

And parents... I can't worry them again

My mom's insomnia got so worse when I was inpatient

She has migraines, had for a whole part of my childhood

She has anxiety, depression, perhaps.

Heart problems, due to anxiety. She was on medication for it, and a doctor once warned her that too much stress and anxiety could be her end. I was 14 when I overheard her say that.

I was 14 when found out my mom had a minor stroke 4 years before that. I remember seeing her sleeping all week long, pale as a ghost when she entered my grandparents house and my dad talking about picking someone up from the hospital. But... stroke? She telling her friend that if he co-workers hadn't seen her she wouldn't go to hospital? She saying she lost sensitivity of her left part of body and saying "oh my daughter and my husband have both deep sleep... i could've died there and they wouldn't have known"

No in a bad way but...

All of this comes to me when I think about telling my therapist. Also, I don't want to be the inpatient girl again. It's hard sometimes when you have to wake up, look around and not be in your room.

Even harder than waking up and fighting the urge to hurt oneself. Because you can exercise, you can go on a walk, swim, dance, cook... in there, you can either sit on a chair and wait for your phone to be hand over, or wait for snack time at the bar or count the hours until visitors come.

It did save my life, it did.

But I promised myself i wouldn't go back in there, I wouldn't make my dad cry, I wouldn't make my mom suffer.

And I never break a promise but...

What if something major happens and I can't handle?

I have no one to turn to... I have no job... if my parents die, i have nothing. No one. And my parents don't think i'm able to handle a job, so here i am, jobless, writing some days, drawing on others, going here to listen to people and feel useful for once and crying on the remaining time.

I guess... without 7 cups I wouldn't be able to even say I had a rather good week here and there. But sometimes a screen of a computer, not much can do to help mend a broken soul