I know I am not the only one feeling this way.
I have read at least two, maybe three other bloggers I love dearly are thinking or have attempted suicide lately too.
I can't even comment on their posts because I would say something awful.
It just makes me feel bad when I hear about other people trying to kill themselves. I want to tell them to get it right the first time because the shame of failing is terrible. I just wish things would end...
I don't think I really want to be happy. Depression is all I have ever known. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I were happy. It would seem so dull...
Nothing is wrong with my life right now. I have a close friend, the new guy in my life D, who would do anything to make me happy and would go out of his way to help me whenever I need it. I am going to be out of here in the next few months hopefully. I have a job.
The future looks bright.
But I just don't have the energy to care.
I don't know what this is.
I feel bad, because I want to tell these girls how much I would miss them, and I would. I want to tell them lies about how I believe life is worth it and that suicide is awful... Sounds pretty dreamy to me right now.
I want to be a comfort. I don't even want comfort. Because of what I have been through, I have found that lately any comforts slide right past me. I don't even acknowledge them really.
Things will get better? Oh okay. Show me.
I will be happier? Alright, prove it.
I will be successful someday? You should have foretold that years ago so that I can have it right now.
You can tell the future? I'll believe it.
I need help? That's why I came to YOU.
Oh you promise? I see. Promises are meant to be broken.
Seems to me if things haven't gotten better my whole life I can't imagine much different now.
If I don't know trust how can I use it?
If I don't know happiness how can I live it?
If I have never learned what it is to be healthy, why do you want me to go back to it?
No one understands depression. I am treated as if I can just snap out of it. As if I will someday not have it anymore. I am treated as if it is something that can be fixed or cured. I am told things will get better, by people who have never had what I have. It's nearly literally a terminal illness.
And my anxiety attacks are back.
I am back at my usual apartment and H is gone, but I still feel like death would be easier than life.
I very nearly tried something last night but I am trying hard to get through another night. I have work tomorrow and the idea of it makes me want to find some pills but I have failed before and the idea of losing my job...
If I lost it, I would not be able to move out even with D's help and I would have no social interaction with people anymore which sounds nice but would turn me extremely self destructive...
And then it would be another trip to the hospital with blood tests and needles and pee cups and then the mental hospital and psychologists thinking they can evaluate me easily and a ton of other shit.
I am not happy right now.
Then again... When am I ever happy?
I was losing weight a little bit and then I ate all today and all yesterday and I feel like absolute shit and I am fat and ugly and disgusting and nothing can remove that feeling from me.
And now my computer is being so slow I think it has a problem with it...