A few months ago I moved out to a new city. I thought a change in scenery would be good for me. A new job. A new life. But… it wasn’t my location that was defective. And everything still feels grey, still feels the same. But this city has some very high parking garages. Sometimes I go to them, go to the top floor. 6, 7, maybe 8 stories up. It’s quiet up there. And looking out across the city it’s peaceful. And the ground below… But, I don’t think I’d ever do it. I’m terrified of death. Terrified of lack of sensory input. Terrified of lack of thought. But that’s the point, isn’t it? To escape me? To finally get away from myself? But… I’m also pretty sure I’d botch it some how. So instead I occasionally go to these garages and look out across the city. Enjoy the quiet and the silence. And wish that one day maybe I’ll get the courage to make the peace permanent.
I feel like every day is the same. Every task feels the same. Whether it’s work or friends or gaming it all feels… well, the same. Except the self destructive things. Because wallowing in my despair is better than what I normally feel (I don’t even know how that is possible), and over eating distracts me from the sameness. I haven’t self harmed in years but it’s been on my mind a lot recently, and I feel like I might break that promise to myself again. I just want the sameness to end, the emptyness to end. The pain to end. I don’t want to be here anymore. And I don’t know an acceptable way to do that.