I’m ravaged by my own darkness and destruction, at the contraction, confinement, and emptiness of this life. I have nothing, I am nothing, and yet I feel a strange, almost ridiculously giddy relief at being able to write and post on this site with some measure of authenticity. It’s an outlet, a small breathe in the midst of my suffocation, permission/room to be real when I have to constantly fake it everywhere else, and that’s a gift in the moment, whether or not it makes any difference in the long run. It… matters because it allows me to see a small glimmer of… something (should I say beautiful? worthwhile? good?)… I don’t know, something… in the midst of my desolated inner landscape. Seeing myself reflected in others’ shares generates a space for something else to come in. Sometimes it allows my frozen, rigid, dead heart to break open, to shed a tear, sometimes more, a flicker of hope, sometimes compassion. And when I feel compassion for others, I start to feel something for myself, giving me the strength to run myself through the motions of my life another day, which I imagine matters to the oblivious few around me, even if it doesn’t to me.
I’ve been on this site lurking for a while, and this is the first time I’ve posted. I just want to say thank you all for being here, for reading, posting, sharing in any and all the ways you show up. I don’t want anyone to be in pain, but it helps to know I’m not alone. It helps to know there is company in the darkness. And even if I end up killing myself, in all that finality, this is worth something to me, just for now, something to grasp onto, a sliver of a resource to use as kindling to meet the paralysis, pain, and wasting away. And even knowing the glimmer is limited, passing, almost pathetic in the midst of my haggard existence, knowing it won’t lead to anything as I grasp at straws, it somehow makes it all the more precious, even hauntingly beautiful.