I feel so terrible about myself, but simultaneously love all the reasons I have for hating myself. It’s both the worst and most awful thing ever and the most amazing incredible thing imaginable. In short, my mind is fucked.
I don’t want to feel this anymore. Except parts of me really do.
I want to eradicate this from my mind. Purge it all, wipe it from existence. Or sink into it and be completely consumed by it.
It’s living with it that’s the problem. Like a shard in my mind. This terrible unforgivable thing driving me. I can’t bear it. But I can’t bear to let go either. I want to scratch and tear at it constantly.
Maybe with enough work I can relax my grip on survival enough to end it. Right now I hate myself, and I deserve to hate myself, and I want to hate myself, and I refuse to stop giving myself more reasons to hate myself. I’m the most pathetic kind of monster, gifted self-awareness without self-control. Time for more denial and escapism.
I would probably be better off dead. The world might be better off without me.
But my survival instinct seems to be too strong. And my family would be devastated by me ending it.
So I’m sitting here, rotting away in my misery, torturing myself for being the monster I am. I’ve got to get out of my mind somehow.