I am crying alone in my room. I have not left my bed in over 16 hours and missed work today. I have a feeling I’ll be fired tomorrow if I show up. Might not show up tomorrow either. Long story short, I am feeling overwhelmingly suicidal again.
Not that I ever really stop feeling this way, but I’m talking about the bawling, give-me-a-gun-I’ll-do-it, type of suicidal thoughts. The kind that are uncontrollable and terrifying, not the logical and cold thoughts… These are emotional and broken and angry and indecipherable. And I hate myself so much for going through all this, for thinking this way. I hate my broken brain and I hate my fucking addictive personality.
What’s going to make me leave my bed tonight? Drinking drinking drinking. Go to a bar and get out of control, black out drunk for the first time in years… Sounds nice, the emptiness. I’m thinking of calling my therapist because I’m in crisis mode, but I no longer have any methods available to me, so it’s not like I can successfully kill myself. Lord knows I’ve tried, not that I’m religious.
So I meet with her on Saturday and I don’t know what to say. I’m seriously considering sobriety but think that that will make the depression worse. The main reason I use is because I can’t be alone with my thoughts. Right now I am completely sober, and imagining in 4K definition me throwing myself off of a 10 story building. Right now I am completely sober and can’t stop thinking of taking a shotgun to the face. Is it better to live a life of an addict and at least have something to live for? Because if you die you can’t use again…
I’m pathetic. This logic is pathetic. These tears are pathetic. I am so full of self hatred I just want to hurt myself. I want to scream but my voice was stolen by the depression too. In the end, depression leaves you with nothing: it steals your hope, your future, your happiness, your relationships, and leaves you with nothing. Except some bullshit 23 year old girl crying glued to her bed like Charlie and the Chocolate factory. Pathetic.
Why can’t suicide be easy