first entry

i’m exhausted. my body is on autopilot at this point. i wonder if i still have a soul.

i thought i was doing better; starting college last year, meeting people, experiencing rebellion and romance and the independence to be who i want to be – all for the first time. i’ll leave the childhood afflictions for some other time, but for now we’ll say i grew up sheltered. and then suddenly, i was free.

i guess not. i know well how lucky i am, to live where and how i do. but it feels like covid-19 was devised by my own personal demon. that’s such a self-absorbed thing to say. but a government mandate for isolation? to be thrown back into the deep end of a house that suffocates me? it’s all too perfect. and it’s shown me that my “recovery” was only circumstantial.

i miss the anxiety and heavy air of kickbacks in crowded dorm rooms. i miss cramming on the wall of the library roof with a friend before a midterm. i miss singing and sweating as i walked miles around campus. i miss smoking downtown as i waited for the bus. all these little things, that were apart of the first lifestyle i had ever created for myself, made me feel like i could be enough.

even more, though, i miss people. i miss feeling seen.

i miss walking around campus and finding safety in the familiar faces of people i’d never spoken to. i miss hearing my name from the mouths of people who knew to be gentle with me before they knew my story. i miss car camping in parking lots. i miss stealing clothes and blankets from a suite of guys who cheered when i could stay the night because hey, i was family now. i miss hugs and holding hands in the cold. i miss kisses outside of class, and in the backseat of a white suv.

i miss dancing with strangers, and singing with friends. i miss sneaking into his house, and learning how it feels to be held in my sleep. i miss running through victorian hotels, and hotboxing cars at the drive-in theater. i miss late-night drives when i missed the last bus, and watching sunsets on the water from the apartment rooftop, and feeling safe because i found people who knew me, and wanted me anyway.

it all just evaporated. and now i’m stuck in this psychotic deja vu, reliving every thought and feeling that drove me to this point so often before. crazy how much can change in a month.

no one misses me now, so it’s not hard to believe anyone will miss me after. i’ve given up.

i’m slowly tying up my ends: reaching out to old friends, deciding what to leave behind – that sort of thing. it’s all i have the energy for anymore.

i haven’t decided on a method yet. i’d prefer a shot to the head, but that’s not an option, so i’m leaning towards hanging or drowning. either way, i’ll probably take a few xanax to help me lose consciousness faster. i’m not scared of death, but the pain before dying is the reason i’ve failed so many times before.

i doubt i’ll make it to the end of this month, though i guess that depends on when i can get the pills. i’m coming to peace with it. i believe God has a place for me in his house. i guess i’ll just ask if i can check in early.