Maybe I Want to Die

I’ve felt like this for many years. Right now I’m on the precipice of a major change in my life, one that will basically cast me out into the world. Unlike some of the others here, I have people who profess to being in ‘my corner’. But I realise that ultimately that’s all a sham. They can’t really do much for me because this thing stems from inside. It’s been described as screaming into the void or staring at the abyss. I choose neither. All I feel is empty, empty all the time. When I’m around people I feel empty. When I’m alone I feel empty. All the things that I tried through all the 20+ years of my life have failed to make me see the worth of such a deeply flawed existence. I used to love things but now… And I always got bitten by that love anyway. Even when I put it into inanimate objects or concepts like writing. You go to lectures and you’re told that words have no meaning, that they have no real worth in this world except as representations. You discover that things aren’t the way you always thought they were and you feel yourself dying inside a little. Day-by-day you feel yourself dying a little. I’m so tired. I’m so tired.

I really can’t do this anymore. I want to die. I want to sleep and never wake up because nobody really understands what you mean when you say it. Nobody really hears you or sees ‘you’. I feel like I’ve locked myself into a state of performativity that will forever bind me to unseen rocks and they will all laugh and jaunt around while I suffer. The saddest thing about people seeing your smile and thinking it’s real is just that – nobody ever considers if the clown too can cry – they just expect him to always be happy. But the clown is tired now. The clown genuinely wants to die.