Guilt is part of why I feel I deserve to die; it’s also why I’m alive. I was going to end it all around Christmas of 18’, but here I am at the beginning of 2020. I kept running through my head the consequences, the people who’d find me, or clean up after me, identifying me, burying me. I’ve never wanted to traumatize anyone with my death, I just wanted to disappear. And so my guilt for how my death by methods accessible to me now would affect others- it kept me alive. here I am at the beginning of 2020. The inevitability of suicide seems certain as death itself. So does the inevitability or abandonment, though, despite my bpd- I try to hope that that fear is unfounded. I’m in a good relationship. I mean, for complicated reasons my needs and wants tend to fall on the wayside but. It’s not that important honestly. I try to just enjoy what we have and not want or expect too much. In a previous post I talked about how no matter what I have or what’s going on, the emptiness follows me. And that’s no one’s fault. I’m just broken- my breaking is inevitable.
I have what I’ve wanted most for a long time. And yet tonight, among other nights, I feel as if i’ll Never be really happy. It’s a defeating feeling. I’m scared to die, little frightened rabbit that I am. To just turn off the noise, wow. It’s terrifying. Beautiful and simple and – oh, to be or not to be? All that. What dreams may come. All that.
I’m trying to be more, to do more, to feel worth in myself. I’m at a loss. I feel broken down and hollow, I can barely recognize myself inside. It seems The biggest thing that’s followed me is the horror and the emptiness.
Let’s see where this goes. And off to bed, and off to bed.
what to even say. i’m waiting on medical equipment that helps me sleep, this is the longest i’ve gone without it in 11 years. everything is just worse. i feel awful. physically uncomfortable, emotionally stagnant and lonely. unlovable and monstrous. anxious and depressed. paranoid and volatile. my brain keeps trying to sabotage the good things that are happening in my life, namely my days with my girlfriend, and my upcoming trip to see her. she loves me, and does her best to make me feel loved, but my brain has been trying to convince me that she doesn’t like me really- and i feel so fucking hopeless.
i know the only way out of this world.
but i want most of all to make a life with my love. it’s just a particularly bad patch of brain weather i need to get past right now.
i just want to be overseas already.
the seeping carcass uncoagulated leaks a guilty mother’s tears
she supervised the wound and dressed it with alchemists dreams
non believing a golden retrieving
in the light of death it looks like lead.
tearing the wound, a universe of indignity,
a sharp phallus years in the reckoning
intestines twisting in the father’s fist
the loving hand shakes with indignant malignance,
kisses on the crown for the slave to his denial and love
in the light of death it looks like hate.
ravished by rage, smashed against a wall, place your delicate baby back into its crib
whisper into its ear,
i fed you,
but you were never anything to me
i played with you,
in more ways than you will ever know
i clothed you after i took them off,
and look, the cloth is made of gold.
my sister emailed me today, the first time we’ve talked in almost a year. we didn’t talk for over a year when, last christmas, she came up to me where i was hiding in my room upstairs away from everyone. i told her i didn’t want anything to do with my abusive brother and that i wasn’t going to have anything to do with anyone who didn’t respect that.
in short, she didn’t, and i have just grown used to not talking to any of my four siblings.
so my sister emailed me today, and i am going to just ignore it. i brought it up to my parents, asking them to not tell my siblings my business or what’s going on with my life, and i think i broke my moms heart. when i told her i don’t care to have my siblings in my life, i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone’s face look quite like that.
the world will rejoice when i am dead.
i really don’t see any way past these issues other than death. my mental illnesses preclude any kind of long term functional independence let alone financial independence. i am a cyst on god’s balls waiting to be popped. i am a rat in the walls with nowhere to run but into the cat’s claws. i am a sad facsimile of personhood.
Hey, hey look its me. I’m still here. Wow. Where to begin?
I was going to kill myself in december. but the more i read about the method i had chosen, i decided i couldnt do it. that manner, the only feasible manner i could and can currently find, is alas, unconscionable. But so is my existence.
I wonder if i could crowd source those i have alienated over the course of my life for the money to buy some better means of suicide? Because that’s what I’ve been up to. Alienating everyone. Getting sexually assaulted by one of my girlfriends, twice, breaking up with both of them. I have no energy. I have no control. I hurt myself with food every day. I can’t get the help I need, i’m going nowhere quick. quit cigarettes though.
I have nowhere to turn to and no one to talk to. So, i talk to yall here.
whats everyone been up to the last few months?
knowing i’m living out my last days is surreal. i can’t tell anyone about it so let me tell you. i drop little hints because i can’t help it, maybe part of me wants to be saved. but at the very least i find it hard to lie about having future plans, new years resolutions, any sort of interest in an existence beyond a handful of days; these days im taking to say goodbye without people knowing i’m saying goodbye and to compile my last work. sure, i’m afraid. part of me is nagging, worried this might not be the right decision, to die. but mostly i’m afraid that i won’t be able to go through with my plan. that i’ll back out, but with the consequences of that decision weighing on me, i feel compelled to follow through. it looks like this is really it. it’s like that feeling when you’re a kid and it’s the last few days of school, that feeling on steroids. the tone of finality. the rush from the known to the unknown. have a good summer. see you never.
i’m almost excited.
I’m having such a hard time taking care of myself. I eat but, mostly only once a day. I eat because food is a weapon i use against myself. My diet is limited and costs more money than i should be spending. I only shave or brush my teeth, or shower, or sometimes even use the bathroom when i desperately need to.
Sorry to have buried the lede, but, I think I’m finally giving up. I’m trying to assemble a few last moving parts but. I don’t think waiting out the winter is for me.
Why am i swiping on bumble..if someone comes over the first thing they’ll notice is how messy the place is. How unkempt I am.
I’m too sad to really care much. I mean, my whole being is a state of caring. But I’m starting to not let on how badly I’m doing. Holding my cards close to my chest. My worry about the future has completely diminished. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m counting down my days.
Today was nothing, and I am no one.
Last night I had my friend do a second tarot card reading on me. The first said that eventually I would find happiness, satisfaction. a life worth living. Being so far away from that, I asked her and the cards, hey, how am I gonna get out of this rut? A rut I’ve just been in for so goddamn long. Her answers were well meant and spoke to some part of me. Desperation. I think the logical part of me knows that death is the only answer.
But today I am nothing and no one. Adrift.
for better or worse this site is my personal journal. tonight, at least in this moment, i am exultant. i mean earlier i restricted until i was shakey then binge ate. but very soon after a friend came over and…there’s nothing better in my mind than giving pleasure to another woman. it’s just the best. connecting with a brilliant beautiful someone and making her make, those noises. my third cigarette is almost done. time to drink some water, pause the music, and lay down next to her.
in the morning, when she leaves, it’ll all come back. the bullshit, the dilapidation and ennui. but tonight, jubilation, sweat, and love!
sometimes things don’t feel real. like a movie. Am I a human or am I a sloth?
I suppose i prefer this, numb and humdrum to the chaos. I’m sure i’ll switch back soon. My girlfriend was here and she’s lovely. I love her and I worry about her. I worry about the hurt I’ll cause her.
my movie is in its third act. As time goes by I try to gather my courage. I wait for the right time.
I’m going to be getting some money, an inheritance type thing. Not like an exorbitant amount mind you. But once I do, I can give it to my friends, to my girlfriend, as much or as little as it will be. Then I’ll be ready. Everyone deserves a little consolation prize. a happy ending.
for this to not happen i’d have to change, ground-up. it isnt going to happen. i’ve been trying. i’m too sick. i’ve used up any reasonable amount of chances. i dont deserve this life or the resources dedicated to making it happen. let my nutrients feed the earth. a happy ending. the most noble ending of which i am capable.
i’ll be around, this probably wont happen for months. So I wait out the winter. Play nice.
This time of year, lots of people are reflecting on what they’ve done the past year. They are thinking of their goals, how they mean to change, and they tell me these things. They are my friends, I love them. In this however, I cannot relate to them. The ambivalence and hopelessness I feel has created a numbness to hope or long term desire. I just keep wondering, when is it going to happen? How will it happen? Will I have the courage to finally die?
I have therapy soon. I don’t know why I even bother anymore. Lately I’ve been leaving there more stressed than relieved. There is a great weight of all the things I would need to do should I hope to get better. Each is as out of reach as the next. I tell people I’m okay. I’m faking it. I’m just waiting.
Stumbling from impulse to impulse. My new years resolution is to die.
I just realized something. I need to fully remove myself from people, if I hope to succeed in my necessary task. I have borderline personality disorder, and feeling the love of those not currently feeding me love into my head holes is much harder for me. A lack of emotional permanence I’ve heard it called. Love peekaboo. The thing is, the people in my life, as transient and separate they may be, permanent and with me as they may be, are the reason I’m still here. I need to not be here. I cant do this for much longer, I don’t want to, I want to be in control of it. Maybe I’ll write another post on a separate subject before bed.
Why am I writing all this? I need a vent for all these feelings, I feel like a traitor to love and the work that has gone into sustaining me; emotional, financial and so on. There are people who care, but there is no one I can truly talk about this to. Maybe y’all get it. If i seem cold, detached, it’s an affected thing I suppose. I’m really sentimental and I cling to the things that make me feel good, make me feel useful. It’s all a drug. I sober up from my own self love eventually. I am nothing. I am a whisper in the great 200 thousand year howl.
I found an old suicide note today. I hope none of this comes off as cringey and impulsive as that. I’m so stoned, so tired. Fuck it.
Recently I had a doctors appointment. Going in I hoped to accomplish some transition related stuff (i’m a trans woman.) The doctor shot down my ideas, and then said to even get there I’d have to quit smoking. An unlikely prospect. I’m going to die half baked. Midway through a she-hulk. Quasimodo with better tits. I find it hard to consistently use my new practiced voice, and my dysphoria grows, shows itself, kicks me in the stomach.
I have a girlfriend. Her arms. Sanctuary.
Still, I feel wretched. Even when I’m having a good time I’m willingly or unwillingly daydreaming about my suicide. Wondering. Waiting. It’s arms. Sanctuary.
I have so many regrets. Maybe I’ll bring them up later. I have to sleep now.
So much to talk about, so little time. Happy new year.
I’m useless, I’ve been spoiled by material comfort.
I’m hopeless, I have been ruined by trauma.
Being raped, beaten, humiliated, kept in the closet for years of fear. Tortured in every moment by my own thoughts; my brain is against me. I’m tired of living in it.
As a rule, I am sentimental to the point of neurosis. Given as I am to swaying wildly from one emotional extreme to the other, when it comes to making permanent changes, (or changes I view as permanent) I stop in my tracks. I freeze. I let dilapidation surround me. I orgiastically wreathe myself in ambivalence. This has had the benefit of keeping me alive when I would’ve rather died, but it also has the deleterious effect of keeping me in a state in which a full, worthwhile life is impossible. And so I begrudgingly trundle myself from one moment to the next, one impulse to the next, overwhelmed like Lucy and the chocolates. I’m in a chess game with my own mortality. This game is in the autumn of its life. Knight on horseback riding between morally dubious decisions that corrode my soul. I am a creature of compulsion. Knight on love’s back riding fucked up one minute, binge eating in the next, cutting the next, fucking the next, isolating the next, jumping into relationships the next. Dodging the shrouded king. Soon he will corner me. No take-backsies when he does.
Step over a rats carcass, then two. Break your mother’s heart on the count of three.
This really does in some way feel like the end. Not that I’m completely stuck; sure I have enough love and support and resources available to me that I could find some way to solve some of the problems that plague me. Just that it will only be a matter of time until I am stuck again, the whole process done over. I am an ant in a web, franticly writhing with all the force that intangible will of survival can muster. Try as I might, escape is impossible. I’m exhausted. I just want to rest.
I’m tired of living in my head, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going.
I feel so fucking empty. I wish i could be bothered to move. to do laundry. to shower. to clean. im just lying on my air mattress feeling this fucking pit in my chest. like a black hole sucking everything into it. I would cut, but I cant get myself to go to cvs to get razors. I would drink, but I cant get myself to the store to buy booze. I would buy drugs, but I don’t feel like talking to my guy. I’m just going to go to bed.
I really do wish I could die in my sleep, but not know I would beforehand. I wouldn’t have to stress about it, or anything, ever. But I’ll wake up and, get back on the grind. wearing the same clothes ive been wearing since monday. same underwear since…sunday? It’s wednesday. fuck
and group therapy isnt really helping, ive just been writing depressing little missives in my journal. or sneaking off to go rest on the couch in the other room.
I dunno, I’m really pushing myself to say other things. But I think I just need to sleep.
See you all soon.
i promised my partner to keep trying to make a better life for myself. i have been planning to go to residential treatment to work on my eating disorder. but i just feel like giving up. i’m staying afloat for another couple months, then who knows. i don’t want to upset people by dying, but my life is going nowhere. it feels like my whole life has been leading up to my death. it’s not that i really want to die, i just am not good at life. i never have been. i don’t know if i just came out broken, i’d my childhood broke me, or if i’m just, a bad person. i’m just unqualified for a fulfilled adult life, and at this point, i don’t even really want to/think i could do the work to improve my situation. i dunno. i haven’t slept all night. this is normal.
ive been biding my time. the good things in my life have delayed the inevitable. i don’t know when it’s coming but soon. i just hope i have the courage to do it, sometime after my birthday. i have reasons for delaying it until then that i don’t want to go into.
ive tried to go before, and each time i guess i didn’t have my full heart in it. now, when i think about it, i don’t have the apprehension i used to. cuz i’ve lost people, and i know people care. but i would rather go now than inevitably alienate everyone and be truly alone. that is the true pattern of my life.
ill post here again soon, make a more cogent post.
keep on keeping on, friends.