You know what eats away at you after a while?
Having to lie to your family every goddamn day that you’re doing fine. Knowing they want to help you, wanting to be helped and yet not wanting help at the same time. Having to pretend that you’re not thinking of killing yourself. Seeing that you’re family is blissfully unaware of what’s coming. Having to lie to your doctor, your psychologist, your fucking therapist, that you aren’t planning on killing yourself.
Part of you is screaming, “JUST TELL THEM!” Not because you want to, but because you just don’t want to lie anymore. But you keep your mouth shut. Because admitting it, means they’ll be put on high alert. Admitting it means you’ll be locked away. Admitting it now jeopardizes any attempt you make in the future.
I know I need to die. I know it’s whats best for everyone. For me, for my family, maybe even in some small part for the world. I’ve done wrong. And I will do wrong. That’s something I’ve learned in my short life: people can and won’t change. I am an evil person. Nothing can change that. Because the evil isn’t even necessarily what I did. It’s something inside. Something lying dormant. Waiting for the chance to make itself known. But it doesn’t know I know it’s there. And I’m going to beat it to the punch.
I don’t want to hurt them. My family. My friends. If there was any other way I could do this without causing them pain, I would. But I see it as like pulling a tooth. Just do it quickly. The ache will still be there, for years or even decades, but doing it fast will cause as little damage as possible. They won’t see it that way. They might never understand why. After all, I’ve spent years trying to explain it to them. But they don’t have to. It’s selfish of me to want to be heard when what they truly need is to be rid of me. I won’t taint their grief with my excuses. It’ll just lengthen the healing process. I need to be in and out as fast as possible.
Until then, I need to lie. Keep them thinking I’m okay. Try not to show too much emotion. Try not to cause too much trouble. It’s just like acting. I used to do a lot of acting when I was younger. Back when it wasn’t a way of life. I’ve grown kind of tired of it now. When you do something everyday it loses its appeal. There’s something poisonous about it all. I feel like I’m rotting from the inside out. But maybe that’s what I deserve. Liars often loose track of their stories, and I’m starting to forget who I am. (Actually, I’m starting to forget many things.)
Thank you for listening to me. It’s been a rough week, as my frequent uploads have probably clued you in. But I think this is helping. I might post more here. If this is the only place I can be honest, I’m going to take advantage of it.