recovery

for a long time, i just wanted to get better. i felt too much and wanted to feel less. or nothing at all. i thought that the best thing i can do is to get better, more social, clean.
now i feel nothing at all, because my brain is full of chemicals from the pills that are supposed to help me, i talk to friends a lot again, but i don’t feel okay, or better. it’s like watered version of the things i used to dream about. i still feel awful, alone, and painfully empty. I don’t cut myself that often too.
but now that i should probably be starting a recovery journey or something, i can’t help but think that i don’t really want to. because being well seems unlikely to me. because the coping mechanisms that are bad help me. because if i recover, it will be for them, not myself. sometimes i want to go to the point when i was miserable again, and just kill myself and end it there. it feels like a better solution.
and i just feel so weak for being like this, like a bad person, somebody who deserves to die, since i think like this. but i can’t help it. but i’m still here for some reason.