I’m so fucking tired of this shit… Why do I bother doing anything at all, when I just want to disappear forever. There’s me and all my fucking problems, then there’s work that makes it so much worse, then there’s college which also makes it worse. I’m so fucking stupid I can’t even do my fucking college work, I spend so much time on it to get nowhere….such a fucking idiot, how did I make it this damn far… kill me kill me kill me. I NEVER thought that I would ever end up suicidal, wanting to kill myself. I used to wonder why people would want to die, why they would want to hurt themselves. Of course I see it now…I have had plenty of time to think about these things:
1. A person can just not understand why someone would want to end their life unless they themselves have been where we are, or they are where we are right now.
Having said that,
2. Even if someone does understand why we want to hurt ourselves and end our lives, they can “sympathize” with us, but… they will never understand the exact reasons, because everybody values things differently. Because of that, what others deem enough to want to die, someone else might not. Values are different.
I’ve had so much time to think, just curled up in bed, full of anxiety, depressed, when I wouldn’t move for hours, when I don’t move for hours… I understand it all too fucking well. How naive someone must be, how naive I used to be, to not be able to understand this earlier, before any of this happened. I guess it’s not their fault, it takes experience to know things, right? How alone it feels….
Another, rather hard thing to digest, is that, since I have come to this site, reading most of the posts that grace these walls. I have also come to the conclusion that, no matter how well you know a person, you just don’t know how they actually feel inside. They could be hiding it so well, and yet hurt so much inside. I always knew this, but never in the “suicidal sense” like I was saying above, about not understanding this stuff, until it was smacking me into the wall. It’s refreshing to feel like you are a person with vast knowledge that a lot of people don’t understand, yet feels so void of presence, so alone, to know this stuff, and feel so alone in it…
I’m feeling so destructive….. I want to do much worse than the cutting I already did today. Thanks for reading…
2 comments
youtube.com/watch?v=u-vmSSkFdwE
This was so beautifully written. It just sucked me in tonight. I’ve left you this nocturne by Chopin. He dedicated this to Ferdinand Hiller. I have no idea who this man was aside from him be a musical mavin. This piece seemed to fit the tone of your lovely post.
Suicide is so intimate, so quiet. The people I see here posting, most I would pass in the street and never know the tempest brewing just behind their eyes. That they are drowning in sorrow or anger. Lost in a pool of liquid so thick there is no way to stay above the surface. Drowning people rarely look in distress, they quietly die, no one the wiser. A quiet death looking as if they are climbing a ladder, but the ladder sadly never gets them to the top of the building.
So intimate our own sadness is. A place that only we understand. For some it is a volcano engulfing them, others a glacier creeping slowly, freezing their soul.
For me it is a tornado that scoops me up and leaves me breathless. Tonight the tornado is fairly quiet. Tonight I can see for miles.
Thank you for sharing this intimacy with me.
HDS
A very nice piece…. I can just imagine, as you were talking about walking past people in the street, a scene in which one is walking past many people, unable to notice the burning desires of others to hurt and end themselves. However, in the end, able to see the hurting of a few (the calmness near the end).
Thank you for your words, I had no idea what I had written might be considered “beautful” to someone else, I guess words from the heart, mind, feelings of frustration can be considered art as well. You are a kind person, thank you.