I dunno if this is an ok place for me to post this, but I need to get my feelings out.
I’m not suicidal. Not really. I’ve got too strong of a self – preservation instinct to actually try anything myself. But I desperately wish that weren’t the case. I wish I wasn’t afraid of killing myself.
Mostly, I often just wish I could never wakeup one night. No warning. Just…slip off as I’m dreaming. I don’t have anything positive in my life. My first love, who I met when I was 21, turned out to be incredibly abusive. He choked me, raped me, beat me, psychologically tortured me. I’m a year out of that situation, exactly one year in a week, and I’m just stuck back living with my parents. I don’t have any friends and don’t really leave the house. Haven’t been able to find a job(it’s been a month since I even got a call back from somewhere I applied to), got rejected from grad school. I’m an utter, abject failure like he said I would be.
I’m struggling from PTSD, and after looking at old diagnostic assessments my psych agrees that chances are I’m autistic on top of that.
The worst part of where I am is that I just can’t believe in anything. How can I ever trust another person, when the first friend I made in nearly 10 years did this to me? I want to believe in God, but how can I when *this* is my life? How can I believe there is anything resembling goodness in this world, whether it’s a kind person who will love me or a God?
I see nothing but a wasteland full of hatred and anger and hostility. I feel useless. And I’m disappointed every time I wake up, because I know I’ll never be able to even attempt to end my life myself.
1 comment
I wish the very same thing. I spend hours sleeping and dreaming. How I wish I could live in my dreams.