Well, I never thought I would post something like this and honestly its kind of weird but what the hell. As I type this my husband is sleeping next to me, and has no care in the world. Me on the other hand, I carry the weight of all of the care and pain. This is my story.
I am 24 years old, and I currently do not see even a glimpse of a promising happy future. It weird because I am in college and successful at it; I’m smart,have tons of motivation, and can light up a room. But, just as much as I can light up a room it can also turn black all around me and make me feel isolated. I feel like there is no amount of love in the world that would stop me from feeling the anxiety and depression that I feel. My marriage is great, better than most, but I can’t stand when my husband treats me like a fucking doorknob sometimes when things don’t go as planned or because he had a “rough day.” At the end the day, I feel so fucking alone. So alone. Like I am the only one that understands me and even then I don’t want to be around myself. I hate myself. All people do is use me when they want to.
I tried to overdose on pain medicine when I was fourteen, like they do in the movies. I ended up feeling sick on the school bus, and having to get my stomach pumped. This was not a good feeling. Seeing my moms face did not help either. I wanted to die in front of everyone on the bus and at school, because I wanted those bullies to know that I was suffering and it was their fault on top of some other people that didn’t even deserve a mention at the time. I cut myself so many times my mother was used to it. Hoeing around was also not helpful, but with no father figure I was fed up. I met my husband, and he saved me from my pain, until I caused HIM pain. I was young, hurt, suicidal still, and I guess afraid of something good.
I try to enjoy myself and my life, and yeah, I have plenty good runs. I can go a good week without crying and hating any and everything about myself and my life. I can look at myself in the mirror and hope for the best. It’s these weeks that conjure a very familiar feeling; determination. After a good run (a good week), everything I ever fear in this fucking hellhole of a endless pit of disappointment and despair of a life comes back. I feel lonely, I feel like I can’t talk to anyone because they wont understand, I feel like the only way to end it is to just die. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m always crying, always suffering. I hope most of the time that something, anything would end me because I’m too ***** to do it myself. I’m so empty, I’m so tired of being elatedly happy one moment and dying inside depressed and lonely for twice the time. If I had the tolerance for pain this mistake called life would have been done by now. I mere speck in the universe of other crappy lives trying to get by until they get old and die. I hate everything about me. My husband would be better off, and he would be able to find someone better. I can’t even cry anymore without him ignoring me because I have already cried so much. I have lost the will to live, but at the same time I find myself keep pushing forward, and at the same time I embrace death like its Jose Cuervo. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Therapy? No. Doesn’t work. Psych hospital? Nah. I will never be who I was meant to be. I’m so tired, very very very tired. I say I have a best friend and friends but at the end of the day I have no one, no friends and no close contact with family accept my parents. My own sister won’t even talk to me and I can’t have a relationship with my niece. She tells me I’m crazy. My husband ignores my concerns, my parents will never understand. I’m ready to go, I cannot run from the pain no matter how far I run, or change up my life. I hope whatever god there is takes me now, because this life is not for me. I have failed myself. I’m tired, very very very tired.
1 comment
Sorry to hear what you’re experiencing. It sounds like you need to get away. Nobody cares, then why stick around? Be nice. Leave a note, start a new life!