The feelings are overwhelming. What feelings they are, I don’t know, but they are overwhelming all the same. It’s emptiness. Numbness. And excruciating pain. More, but they are so intermingled that I can’t tell what they are.
I want to cry. I want the tears to run free. I have to be quiet so E won’t know. More than anything, I just want someone to hold me. I want someone to hold me while I cry. Lie. Tell me everything will be ok. Even if someone did that, I would still feel completely alone. So I guess it doesn’t matter.
It’s 36 days until my birthday. A little over a month. The day I look forward to every year. And dread. I look forward to the hope it brings. I want to die so badly. I want my birthday to be the day. I dread the day after. Because I know I won’t be strong enough, brave enough, to go through it. So I will be stuck for another year. Waiting for that day. Hoping that the next year that one thing I lived for at the last birthday is no longer there.
Having one reason to hold on to, to live for means I make it through another year. But what happens if that one reason goes away and I can’t find another reason? I guess to some extent it’s better. Then I’d be making the decision for myself, versus someone else telling me not to do it. And I’m free to make whatever decision I want.
I don’t want to die alone. But I have no other choice. No one wants to be with me. So I’ll have to be ok with this. I’ll have to die alone. This is the only way. I will die as I have lived. Alone.
I matter to no one. No one will miss me. No one will care. They would probably be happy.. E had even told me at one time that he wouldn’t miss me if I died. Dying is part of living. He’d be able to get along ok without me. So what’s the point?
If I don’t matter to anyone. If my husband doesn’t care if I died. If every day is a battle that hurts. Why should I go on? Everyone would be better off without me. The kids would be better off. My husband would be better off.
How do I say good bye? Do I say good bye? I don’t want anyone remembering me. Since everyone would be better off without me, I don’t want them remembering me. I don’t want the constant reminders that I lived to be there.