Outside of myself. The woman everyone see’s just like everyone else, is carefully crafted. I am strong enough sometimes to smile and make jokes to my colleagues and sort out the chaos on my 3 Monitors to successfully complete a days work. I have pain beyond my threshold leeching on my spine and chest. I contain them until the weekend when I can perform my mental surgeries.
When the wounds mastisize and become larger than my ability to contain them I am frozen. I am powerless. I look at my 3 Monitors and watch the inbox rise watch the Skype pings sting watch that there is a phone call waiting to be clicked to answered watch the incoming tickets from large companies cry out “Help us keep our millions, in return we give you scraps enough to feed your cats but no health insurance no job assurance”
I stay home
I keep to my bed
I self medicate when the Prozac isn’t enough
Get it together
“What’s wrong?” “I know you’re not feeling well…” “You need to work on your attendance” “???”
A woman is on maternity leave. She has paperwork to prove her pregnancy. Watch her belly grow. Give her rest let her leave.
A man breaks his arm. He is clearly unable to type and is obviously in pain. Give him rest let him leave. Let’s wish him well..
I have nothing to show on the outside. I have no symptoms of chemotherapy to see. I have no belly to watch grow. I have no broken bones. I have no papers to provide proof of the disease inside. Toughen up Toughen up Get it together What’s wrong with her she called out 2 times last month and now she’s out a week? Why does she get so quiet? I think she’s just a *****. She doesnt do as many emails as us lately, why is she so slow sometimes? I wish she was fired. She’s so unreliable.
I feel I have no arms no legs most days I feel pain swallow me up into nothing. I meditate I keep hope if I work on my mind enough this invisible cancer will cure. It hasn’t. It’s blackness and boils on my chest and spine and the back of my head have remained for over 19 years… I’m 30 next year. I ebb and flow as a slave to the leash length of this disease (demon? Archon?) . I fight with whatever i have even sleep as a weapon against it.
I fight invisible things.
Let it end. Let me be done. I can’t bare the disappointments from all directions. Let me die or give me a gun. I already failed a way that shouldn’t have failed. Give me a gun. Let my heart give out from self medication. Let it end.
Even though we cant talk to each other directly here. I feel safe here. I feel in the silence, a comradery.
I love reading the stuggles the goodbyes because i can relate so much to these entries and i just have nothing but love for you.
Even if you are a judge of me, i can relate and I’m grateful. Whatever comes… I’m just grateful for this silent hive where our honey is our words about our bloody battles of life, death, trauma, pain more than anyone else in the real world could ever handle. We can speak it here in complete truth and honesty without fear.
I’m choosing to document my suicidality here, as old as i am, rather than writing in composite notebooks and burning them.
A lot good those notebooks did for the last 17yrs. What if like, the things I’ve read here, by putting it out to dry here…maybe it can give someone some light maybe some peace? Egotistical…
Today i chose to buy some recreational drugs and write my best friend a letter listing my red flags. Basically fucking myself over and dampening my exit options. I analyze though, the fact ive always known is admitting that i dont truly want to die. I’m not that committed to my goodbye anymore. (Which intensity fucking shifts and changes of course, you can relate I’m sure) i just want to pain to end. I want to be loved and happy before i die. I want the nightmares to stop. The phantom pain in my vagina to stop preventing me from dating. I want justice that i know i wont get so then i want to forgive but how? I refuse to go to a fucking counselor god they’re fucking useless pieces of shit or sociopaths.
I just want the darkness to end. Maybe i will finally have to try again when the Universe guides me to in order to end it. I dont fucking know. Today i chose to live. Might be out of a job calling in so much lately but fuck it. I chose to live today hopefully it means something good for something in some dimension..
I told my only family member it was time for me to stop. The only person in the world who knew me. He said at least try acid once.
I dosed and became one with the Universe and all that shit. I felt something fall off my shoulders afterwards. I got an understanding of why I survived the first eleven years of my life along with him surviving the first twenty.
-We weren’t meant to survive right?
I got a hippy ass perspective on why there’s scars on my genitals that I can’t explain to a doctor.
It lasted about a month until I was drugged and raped in a sad and rather fishy situation with a boy I was dating and his “best friend”.
I had a beautiful goddamn pharmacy, shame it was time after i stumbled home the next morning to use it for ending my life rather than healing.
I filled a large chevron drink about halfway or so with it all.
-The Universe was telling me it was time right?
Why else would i get raped again in my adult life? No justice again. I just wanted to go home. Then you broke the door down because the cats, my little girls, were crying and yowling. I wake up screaming in the middle of the rape kit. Then they checked me in the looney ward for a week. I had to participate in groups and put on a face that I understood that ending my life was not an option so i could leave and get high at least i was good at that.
You fucking told me you couldn’t do this life without me. Then barely three months after my failure you get to go home, during a celebration you got to leave me here, happy.
Without the weight of the possibilities of right and wrong. You got “taken”. Now i have to be here with this alone. Completely, actually, “literally” alone.
-Its gotta be a cosmic sign right? Cant think cant work cant fake it just hoping the universe shows me what way will actually work/succeed. Just want to go to sleep and go home.
2nd year anniversaries are so surreal.
I dont know if it would honor you or offend you if I chose to enter light body that day. I already failed once in a way I shouldnt have failed because of your bad timing. Then you died.
This is a sign I should go with you, I feel sometimes. You said you couldn’t do this life without me, what the fuck do you expect me to do here without you.
Drugs sure help. Maybe they’ll have pity/mercy on me the way they did for you and take care of the dilemma I face daily