I’ve cried a fair amount the last couple of days. The reason doesn’t matter but suffice it to say that it was minor and yet it was one of few things that gave me hope.
I’m not particularly emotional today. I write when I’m emotional, or when I feel like I either have something profound to say or something distinct to say. I don’t think this is the case here.
I feel dry. Empty. Like something mechanical that’s squeaking and requires some sort of lubricant. My brain feels that way. My body just the same.
I don’t feel like a human being anymore. Outside of external validation, I’ve realized that there is little to nothing that I do just for me, just because I want to. And it’s not because I’m so giving and forgot myself. It feels like there is no self to forget anymore. Even the few things I used to like, no longer please me in any way. It’s just rare that something makes me happy in and of itself.
I think about what I want to do. I think of stuff like getting healthy and advocating for people, but everything I do reminds me that I’m alone in a cruel unforgiving world.
On Sunday I was really having a hard time. I was just so upset with myself for not being dead. I felt like the world would just be better off and I just know, with all my mind and soul, that I’ll never have what I want or be happy. And I was just kicking myself as to why I haven’t yet killed myself.
I keep hoping to be saved somehow but I know no one is coming, but the hope persists regardless of what my mind thinks. I know I should save myself, but all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put me back together again. I just don’t know how, despite all the help I’m getting. I see my family doctor, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a nurse who sort of acts a social worker, I’m on FIVE different kinds of medications (none of which do much except help me sleep and occasionally calm me down when I’m angry). I keep trying to do new things too. Piano lessons and book clubs. Anything I never tried before. I don’t want anyone to say I died because I didn’t try. I’ve taken advantage of every opportunity thus far. It simply isn’t working.
I guess I’m just writing to say I feel like I’m so stuck. I really feel like I need to be a man and just end it already but I can’t seem to pull the trigger. I hate myself even more for remaining. Death would be redemptive at least.
I’m angry about all the shit with my former employer, but aside from that, I have no one to blame. We live in a rough world, weak people like me are unfit for it. I’m too soft. The people in this world, they chew me up and spit me out. I’ve just become bitter now, hard not to be. I see happy people and I think who did they have to destroy to feel that way? What trail of tears is responsible for their happiness? And do they ever take a moment to think about it?
The world didn’t want me. Why do I insist on staying where I’m not invited? The gentlemanly thing to do would be to quietly bow out. Die and leave the world a little colder. At least then no one can take advantage of me or take me for granted while they live their happy little lives.