By the end of November, I think I may die. Depression has just returned a few days ago, opening the locked doors of my house with his sly little fingers then proceeded to creep slowly into my room. I lay on my bed, underneath blankets and cat fur, vulnerable like the 6 year-old child I once was, waiting for the imaginary train to come wrecking in. This time no train came, but a sticky, grim figure. It clasped onto my hair, hugging my chest from behind, blinding me with bone-biting guilt. I lay on the floor as if pinned to the ground. I tried getting up, but it told me I’m stupid to do so. So I obeyed, doing nothing. Being unproductive, and unsatisfied. Unsatisfaction led to anger, anger led to self-hatred, self-hatred told me to kill myself. I declined, for now.
I feel wrong. I’m paranoid almost to the point of murder, and I feel wrong about it. It’s not everyone around me, it’s me. All my fault, it really is. It always is, I’m never good enough for anyone and I should be pitying myself instead of pitying others who have to deal with me. But self-pity is simply lazy. It brings fuel to the fire of my self-hatred, adding more and more until all is burned up, and I shall have nothing left to burn but my own life.
Though I must smile. Just in case anyone’s watching.
2 comments
what would you gain from homicide? it would ruin your life. it’d likely push you more to suicide, but you never know. sometimes, fucked up actions can lead to life changing outcomes, sometimes for the better, but if you’re thinking about harming someone else, you should definitely reconsider that heavily, as it would not benefit you in anyway to end someone else’s life, just because you’re sick.
make sense? i get the homicidal feelings. i’ve been there too. the idea of ending my own life, to me, is just too… grossly consoling, ya know? it’s incredibly sad, but at the same time, theirs that sense of relief, of just being done with the torment NOW, and for good.
hang in there, not literally, but you know what i mean. come nov. 17th, you will still be here.
instead of planning on killing yourself that day, plan on doing something exciting or chill, like, find an interesting book to read, something that catches your interest. go to a nice cafe, sit down someplace cozy, and just lose yourself. but don’t off yourself, at least not yet. seek truth, if anything. there’s light in such, and the only way to expel darkness is by letting in the light.
it’s painfully hard to do though. almost doesnt seem worth it most of the time.
it’s easier to just say “fuck this” and jump straight to suicide, but i think all in all that is just pure desperation.
and i no longer believe that we are without hope.