I question those that say they would care about whether or not they would care if I died. I see no good that I bring to the world. I’m tired of pretending that my presence matters to people. I’m tired of listening to people telling me a lie about it. If I died, it wouldn’t really matter to anyone.
My mom came home the other day, well actually a couple of days now, saying that she had a girl threaten to kill herself or someone slit their wrist and that they were plain crazy. I wonder if she would think the same thing if she knew that was how I feel. Would her daughter be crazy too? I remember when I was younger how much pain I suffered in silence. I remember when she told me it was a miracle I had been through so much as a child and still was sane. I have never told her about the feelings, how much I struggle just to make it through the day alive. What do I have to gain from that anymore? I doubt whether or not she would care. Or maybe she would. Her little girl is crazy.
I think everyone thinks I’m crazy. I remember grad school how close I was to killing myself then. I remember the struggle, the constant struggle of trying to figure out if life was going to get better. The constant disappointment of finding out things weren’t going to change. I can’t keep doing that. I can’t keep wondering if tomorrow is going to get better. I can’t keep doing this.
These feelings used to scare the shit out of me. The fact that they don’t so much anymore scares me at times; at others the feelings are peaceful. Just the possibility that the feelings will stop, no matter what the price, is comforting. Maybe not to anyone else, but to me it is.
How is it that I’m surrounded by people for quite a lot of the day and I still feel alone all the time. It’s hard to keep going. It’s hard to understand how I can feel so alone and empty inside when I know there are people who care about me. I know people must think I’m selfish. I’m not. Maybe I’m just not capable of feeling loved. Maybe that is beyond my comprehension. What kind of idiot am I to not figure out how to be loved? I’ve just been hurt so many times that I start to wonder if I am destined to live my entire life like this. I’ve lost most faith in people and don’t trust often. It’s terribly lonely but at least I don’t get hurt from someone who pretends they care but doesn’t really care about me. It’s hard though to be alone. At least I have a couple of friends but most don’t know how much I struggle. What am I supposed to do hello my name is and I’m morbidly depressed. It’s just easier this way. Or at least safer.
At what point can I give up? How much do I have to hurt before I can just call it all quits? It’s a question I often ask myself. I know people must think I’m selfish and whiney. Others must think I’m absolutely crazy and need to be committed. Maybe so. But that doesn’t take away the pain I am in. It doesn’t solve all the feelings I have to endure. It doesn’t give me solutions. No one has been able to help me out at all. I wonder if anyone ever will. I’ve pretty much given up on getting better. I cope through the days knowing that today is the same as tomorrow is the same as yesterday. One step at a time means for a very long hellish walk. A walk I have to do mostly on my own. I have a few people I can “talk” to; but I feel bad for leaning on them. I know the support I need would require more support than most people are capable of giving. I get that. But where does that leave me? Alone. Scared. And not wanting to go on. I close my eyes and can see me pulling the trigger or slitting my wrist. Isn’t that horrible, fucked up? I don’t care anymore. I’m past the point of help. I pray to God that I will get cancer. That I will have six months to live. That I will die alone in a car wreck. That I will die of a sudden heart attack. If I dropped off the face of the Earth no one would care. And quite frankly that’s ok with me. It means decisions are easier, no one will be hurt by my selfishness. And the world will continue to go on without me.
It’s been another long day and it’s just barely lunch time. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately and feel shitty overall. I don’t know what to do anymore. My mom lives with us now so counseling is pretty much out of the question. I guess in a way I feel there is nothing more that can be said. No medications that will help. Absolutely no hope of getting better. This is starting to wear on me. A lot. I pretty much have no one to talk to. I feel completely alone, empty. I’m back to the point where I need to talk to a priest. The only person I can talk to and not have to worry about being hospitalized. I can’t keep doing this. I’m worn beyond all energy I have. With my mom living with us now I have to be happy when I get home. I pretty much have no privacy. Not like I had any before. But still one more person to have to cover everything up with. I don’t think I have the energy or strength to get through this time. I don’t want to get through this time. It’s hard. If I can stick with this job for another year and half my husband will get the life insurance money if I go through with it. It’s not fair to leave him with no way to pay the bills. I wonder if starving myself would be considered suicide or complications of anorexia.