It’s been 10 years since I last felt this way. Full of nothing but bullshit and utter hopelessness and mind-numbing, soul-destroying sorrow. I guess it’s my namesake, my legacy.
Being here doesn’t help. It’s always worse here. Here, I am just a worthless, stupid piece of shit. No matter how much I try to be helpful, stay out of the way, keep everyone happy. But I don’t ever succeed, not at anything.
I haven’t cut in atleast 6 or 7 years. Sometimes I still crave that pain so much… Just before the guilt and shame of the scars I already still have sets in. I can’t even wear shorts without being so self-conscious of them that it throws me into anxiety. I wish I had something though. Weed helped for the last decade but now I can’t afford it. Alcohol and cigarettes are worse if anything. What helped more was having a goal, a purpose I knew I could achieve. The achievement, as it turns out, means next to nothing. To myself or anyone else.
Why am I so weak? Why am I so sensitive?
It’s the same as it was then. No hope or vision of a future. Its just blank. Empty. A clean, white nothingness. Even though I promised myself I would never try to end my life again, I think I still knew I would one day. I think I still know I will one day. One day when I care less about what will happen to my family, when I care so much and so little. I wish I had that courage now. Or apathy. Whichever. Whatever. I always used to say that to myself.
When you have had nothing to believe in your life for so long, it wears on you. I didn’t realize back then that’s what it was. It is so much harder when you have picked yourself up, fixed your mistakes, tried so hard and waited. Waited for something to come from your effort. The disillusionment of hope can be so cruel when it finally breaks.
I’m tired of getting my hopes up at every glimmer, I’m tired of believing in myself for even just one glorious moment. Before it shatters down around me like a broken mirror reflecting that clean white nothing of my unfuture.