I hate coming on here sometimes. Not because I regret talking to someone, anyone, about these things. Not because I don’t appreciate how many people came to me with sympathy. But because when I look back on all that I’ve written on here, I realize nothing has changed. I’m still here. I still want it all to stop. I’m still too scared to end it all. I’m still unsure if death is really what I want. And I’m still depressed.
Part of me wishes someone would just do it for me. Part of me wishes I’d just walk down the street and get blind-sighted by a semitruck. I don’t know if it’s fear of the pain, or being sent to hell, or what that’s stopping me. But it’s certainly not the desire to live. Although, I do worry about my family sometimes. They’ll probably never recover from this. I hope they don’t find me if or when it happens. So maybe it’s guilt that’s stopping me.
But then there are the times when I feel as though I fade into the background, even with my family. While my mother is driving and I’m in the car with her, I feel like I’m fading away. She doesn’t look at me. We don’t talk. She just listens to the radio and I pretend I don’t exist. I hate the radio. I know when it gets turned on that’s my cue to keep quiet and fade out again. The radio makes me want to kill myself. Sometimes I leave my seat-belt off just in case we get into a car accident. I probably shouldn’t be admitting that. Isn’t that a crime?
Speaking of crimes, I wonder if I could just get a cop to shoot me. That’s called suicide by cop right? Does that still count as suicide? If there is a god up there, do you think he’d count that? I don’t know anymore. Everything is just shade of greys now. Didn’t Jesus commit suicide? Technically he didn’t do it himself. What is the difference between a martyr and a suicide victim? Again, I don’t know anymore.
All my thoughts are getting jumbled up. Thinking is painful nowadays. I wish I could just stop. Just give up on the whole thing. I’d get rid of my emotions too if I could. No more sadness, no more fear, no more anger. People would also make the argument that I’d also be throwing away happiness and excitement, but that would be fine by me too. Happiness is a drug for me nowadays. Even if it feels good in the moment, once it’s gone it leaves an empty, gaping hole in my stomach. Withdrawal sets in and end up feeling worse than when I arrived. So I keep finding ways to chase the high, and every time it leaves and I’m left with the withdrawal again. What’s the point? I’d rather feel nothing at all than waste time trying to chase that high. At least if I felt nothing at all, I’d at least find some form of peace.
They say smart people are more likely to be depressed. Well, I’m depressed, but does that really make me smart? Maybe it’s one of those situations: all squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares. That’s probably more accurate. I mean, I don’t feel smart. I think a smart person would be smart enough to know they were smart. I also think a smart person would find a better way to phrase that last sentence.
My weather app told me the air quality was “unhealthy for sensitive people”. Maybe I’ll go outside today and that’ll do the trick.
God, you’d think I’d have ADHD with how much I’m darting from topic to topic. I think I’ll summarize this post with a joke I stole off a website. “Did you know oxygen is proven to be a toxic gas? Anyone who inhales oxygen will normally die within 80 years.”