It’s been a rough week. I have a list of things to do. Minor things like wash the dishes and major things like get healthy (physically and mentally). I’m tattooed to my bed while I pity for myself, lament all that’s happened to me, and think about dying.

I get more and more angry at myself for still being alive. I’ve entered a state of complete inertia. I occasionally dream about what could be, including the things that are wholly in my control. What would my life be if I was healthy? If I didn’t waste so much time thinking and could just act?

Life is passing me by anyway, why am I still here?

In fairness to myself, I’m having a horrible time concentrating on anything for too long. If I’m able to watch a tv show or movie, that’s a very good day. I can’t quiet the thoughts. “You’re useless! You’re an ugly loser! You’re stupid! You’re not good at anything!” I just feel humiliated and embarrassed constantly. That’s what makes even the very present now so hard to bare. I hate feeling like this.

The thoughts are so consuming, I have to write it down. My electronic notepad, dating my appointments and reminding myself of why my life is shit. I write it down so I can both forget and remember. By writing it, I give myself permission to let it go for a while, until the feelings stir up again and I have to stop and reorder my concerns and critiques of myself.

It’s hard to do anything in this state. I wish I could. I keep saying I have to give it everything I got, and see then. It would be easier to die, if I feel like I tried everything. Also, there’s a point to be made if I tried and failed. But maybe I have to admit to myself that this is just who I am now and there’s no changing it.

The dreams still hurt. They make me cry. But I have to let them go.