I am a bad person. By which I mean that I want to do bad things. Really bad, fucked up stuff. And I’m pretty sure I’m not going to do those things. But the wanting, it hurts, constantly. My motivations, who I am on a very core level, are broken. The things that feel most meaningful to me are wrong. And I don’t think that’s something I can change. I can change my actions, and to some extent I have, but I can’t change what I want. I can’t change what feels meaningful to me. And that hurts, and it makes me want to not exist anymore.
And that’s not enough to overcome my fear of death, or my considerations for the impact on my family. But that leaves me stuck here, hurting. And I don’t know how to handle that, so I inevitably return to the destructive behaviours that used to bring me relief. Even though they don’t anymore. Even though now they often make the pain worse. Because I’m so desperate for an escape, and that’s all my mind has in it’s locker of short-term solutions.
So I’m a bad person. And I can’t stop being a bad person. I can act in less bad ways, but inside, I’m still the same. And I don’t want to be me anymore. I don’t want to exist like this. And it hurts. It really fucking hurts. And it’s not that I don’t deserve the pain. It’s that I don’t know how to handle it, at least not in a way that doesn’t make things worse.