Just a little ramble.

Depression hits us all, I think. There’s not a single person I have spoken to that hasn’t felt it’s clammy hands around their soul. It seems to be caused by many things, from big life changing events, to small things that just build up and knock a person off their feet eventually.  I’ve had it time and and time again, but usually managing to shake it off like a wet dog.  This time however, it’s crippled me.

I’ve seen death burn through a families hope, I’ve felt that pain. I got through it.
I’ve felt the devastation of a loved one no longer loving you. I got through it. Although I should probably add that alcohol and mild drug abuse ‘helped’ on both accounts. I wouldn’t have classed myself as an addict, I saw it as a lot of recreational usage. But to be fair, it never really helped, just dulled my mind and body enough to stop feeling anything for a while.

So, there must be a lot of people here who feel the inevitable pull of death somewhat earlier than planned.  Planned. Foresight. Heh. How many times have we sat with our chosen poison, be it pills, rope or razor? How long have we stared at our chosen method just pondering how much EASIER things would be? The voice inside tells me I am worthless, that people would be better off without me. The voice inside isn’t my friend, anymore. Not that we were ever on really good terms. We never cracked a beer or a bottle of wine open and bonded.

That little voice only perks up when you’re hitting the bottom. That voice is a sadistic little bugger, but hey. Sometimes it’s all you feel you have left when you’re alone.

I really shouldn’t be complaining. I have people who love me, people who give a shit whether I live or die. People who have been pressuring me to see a doctor over my little breakdown. I’ve been good though, I haven’t touched a drink yet. Felt like it, but just couldn’t be bothered moving to get one.

There’s three people in my life that keep me here, hanging like a limp puppet on a string. My mother, my partner and my best friend. This is my family. These are my strings. How easy it would be to cut those strings, to free-fall forever and not have to think again. But how hard it really is to be so selfish.  I couldn’t hurt them, no matter how hard I tried.  So instead I’ll cry my eyes out and hope dehydration kills me. This better work, my cheeks are stinging from endless days weeping.

I’ve tried it before, to cut the strings. I didn’t tell anyone at the time because it didn’t work and I was still kicking myself.  Pills were my method, boxes and boxes of them.  I sat with my legs crossed and devoured them with a ravenous hunger, a need for the end. I got a headache and stomach cramps.  Another couple of times with varying methods all made me feel invincible. My body is as stubborn as my mind, and it did not want to end. So now I’ve been thinking of new ways, only to be crushed by the guilt of others pain if I succeeded.

So I’ll live. I think. For now.

This decision isn’t set in stone. I’ll probably be at this crossroads for a while, going forward a bit when things get better, only to stand on the edge of a cliff of indecision yet again.

I just looked outside. It’s beautiful, the sun is shining and the birds are perching outside my window. I shut the curtains.  I prefer the bleakness of a dim room, it suits me at the moment.
I can’t see the beauty in most people. Only the ones I love. Everyone else seems to be an ugly grasping creature, full of spite and hidden motives.

I really don’t want to be like this. I hate it. But the drugs don’t work, to quote The Verve.  I’d rather be happy again without some sort of substance. I’ve done it before; I’m sure it’s possible for all of us with our hormonal imbalances to actually be happy without popping a pill.

My rant is losing tempo. Perhaps that’s it almost out of my system for now.

I can’t be sure if this helped me at all. I’m struggling to feel the usually vast range of emotions that most females have. I wish I was a teenager  then I could use my age as an excuse. It’s not me, it’s puberty- I swear.

I wonder if I would have the urge to kill myself if I had no one around me. Are the people I love just an excuse to keep living? Becoming a hermit wouldn’t solve anything, probably. I’d still be the self loathing waste of breath that I am now.

Does anyone else feel pity towards kids being bullied? They want to end their life because of a select group of people. People who in all honesty are worth less than I am. I read a couple of posts from kids here.   I just want to grab those kids, shake them and tell them life gets better. But that would make me a hypocrite. Life will get better for them, in most cases. I hope. I think I hope.

And those people who have just had enough. Enough of this dreary existence. I feel your pain, fellow self haters. But you’ll have strings keeping you here too. You’re clinging to the strings just as much as you want to cut them. It’s a vicious circle, in way. This might sound like a lot of self pity, but I really don’t have any. I can only pity others and hope they don’t judge me too harshly.

I’ve stopped crying- either I’m becoming severely dehydrated, or this ranting post is helping me to some degree.