I’m tired of me. And I’m especially tired of my mind.
Not a single day passes during which I don’t have suicidal thoughts. It’s been like this for a while now, and I’m tired of it. I’m also tired of being so irritable, and of being such a monster to my family. Sometimes I think I should just try and get it over with already so I can stop the pain, but then I think about this quote I found a while ago: “Suicide doesn’t take away the pain, it gives it to someone else.”
I feel I’ve just been letting it all consume me for a while now, instead of trying to get better. I feel pretty hopeless at things ever getting better. Thus, I keep gravitating toward death. But I know I’m not going to do anything, not now at least.
Honestly, I’m angry at myself because I’m letting my mind run wild. Sometimes I put in a little effort, maybe once or twice a day, to move away from the rut. But really, they’re pathetic efforts, compared with how I used to fight this mental (fucking) illness monster. I feel I’m out of strength and will to fight. I feel I’m just floating around, not human anymore, just a breathing ball of pain. “Me” is gone. I don’t exist anymore.
I can’t find any purpose in life right now. And those grand dreams I used to have for myself don’t exist anymore. There’s nothing left in me. I honestly feel like a zombie. Right now I’m actually wishing somebody would beat me just so I could feel something…anything. Shit, as soon as I wrote that I thought that instead maybe I should cut. And sadly, I’m actually considering it. I think the last time I did it was early this year.
I feel so self-destructive right now.
There’s obviously something that’s keeping me in this rut. It’s either something I’m doing, or something I’m not doing…or both. Damn it, why does everything have to be so complicated?
I feel suffocated.
I might post something more coherent tomorrow.