The one where you’re so desperate to kill yourself that you’re willing to do anything? Where you’re willing to swallow anything, try anything, jump in front of anything? That level of desperation where the smallest and most minute of annoyances is enough to convince you that life isn’t worth living and that your only conceivable course of action is suicide? Where you’re just so desperate to end it all you just want anything to come along and take you away, even if you know that it won’t kill you, just hurt you.
I hate it when I reach that level. It’s like being a a wolf caught in a bear trap, only instead of gnawing of my back paw, I have to sit and endure this enhanced agony according to the Plan, doing everything necessary to avoid detection, intervention, or a botched job, or go off the Plan, making up shit along the way and hoping that it will achieve the same result.
When I’m alone, I can deal with it. If I really want to satisfy that feeling, I know I could just kill myself and be done with it- since I’m alone the plan can be carried out swiftly and effectively, with no one around to ‘save’ me. It’s easy to hide that level of desperation if I give myself time to be alone, and after an hour or so of bracing myself for human contact, I can interact with people without them being none the wiser. But I’m not alone, and it’s destroying me. I need to be alone, and I never am. My mind is breaking down so fast, so quickly, I’m becoming someone that everyone else hates too.
I used to be considerate, kind, and caring, and now I just hate. I don’t care anymore. I used to tell myself I would never commit suicide where I am, to spare the people who I live with, but now I say fuck them- I’ll die where I want to. I hate being around other people, I hate the sound of other people’s voices. I can’t eat in public places because the sounds of other people laughing, talking, drives me insane, being in forced close quarters standing in line is murder, its a death sentence, its agony. I only eat one meal a day in order to avoid contact with people as much as possible, but I’m hardly ever hungry.
Why is suicide so difficult? Why can’t I just kill myself and die? I just want to die, I hate the world and I don’t want to be apart of it. I’m tired of the wait.
1 comment
I love this post. I feel like I’m always on that level of desperation. It just seems like once you reach that level, all the things that pushed you up to it won’t stop to give you a break. Everything just keeps stacking up, trying to break through the level, ultimately reaching suicide/lifelong disabilities.
And I feel you on the hating people. I used to be such a nice, outgoing person. But now I can’t even stand to be in public. I go outside for food, and that’s just going through the drive thru and back home. People just make everything worse it seems.