I already feel like I’m dying, and it’s just getting worse. I just want to die and get it over with, I’m tired of suffering like this. I can’t even cry, and I want to so fucking bad. This feeling I have physically weighs me down, I get tired and zone out through everything. I just want it to stop. This feeling is so horrible and its bubbling up and breaking me into pieces. I can barely move now. I’m just stuck here. In this hell. God I’m already fucking dying. I don’t even feel like a human. I don’t know what I feel like anymore. I just want relief. I just want to die.
I know everyone else has it worse, and I’m just being emotional and dumb as shit, as always. But I just cant do it. I’m literally crumbling inside as I speak (well, type anyway, I don’t think I even can speak right now…) I can barely type, but I just need to get this out somewhere, somehow, as I pretend any of this matters.
I wish my dad would just ask if I’m alright. Or anything. I can’t be honest because he’ll get angry, but I wish he cared enough or even noticed enough to just ask. But no one does. I feel invisible to the world. I feel weak. I’m hurt and feel so awful. No god hears my cries. Not that I entirely believe in any of that anymore anyway.
I’m exhausted. Someone just kill me now I’m already dying inside.
1 comment
well, if Kurt Vonnegut is to be believed, perhaps you are. He wrote about his time as a prisoner of war in WW2 Germany, about the two different kinds of prisoners. He said they were British vs Americans, but I’ve seen both attitudes within Americans and think he’s being dramatic for effect.
The first group he talked about did everything they could to keep themselves up. They got up every day and washed their faces, they talked to each other energetically, and engaged with life. This group, almost universally survived the POW camps.
The second group is the one I identify more with, and I suspect you would as well. They had no hope. They didn’t wash, didn’t talk, and in time most of them died.
He presents it as though it’s a choice, and who knows in WW2 maybe it was…. for us though, perhaps our only comfort is that silence and hopelessness appear all consuming near the end. Perhaps our bodies will do what our brains have already detected, end.
Alternatively, it could be that if you did some of these superficial things, as silly as they are, perhaps it would feel less hopeless. I went swimming today, and it cheered me up quite a bit. You’ve got to do the best for you, other people can claim to know what that is, but only you can know for sure.
If you can’t do something, you can’t do it. This seems obvious, but we’re conditioned to feel shame for that failure, when shame doesn’t make it any better. Sometimes it’s better to accept, the limitations are what they are. Rather, perhaps focus on what can be done, even if it’s small, even if it doesn’t impress others.
IDK, I feel like I have been fundamentally altered by watching a lot of videos dealing with chinese despair…. many of them are at the acceptance stage, of saying there’s no redemption, no hope of getting better, just making the best of a shit situation.