I know I sound like I’m being the pettiest person in the world but I failed at getting a job that my partner pulled strings to get me an interview and now I just want to die. If I don’t have her I have nothing and I love her so much but I’m not good enough and now I have to tell her there’s proof right there in my inbox that I’m no good I’m worthless, I was a bad bet all along and I am so sorry I’m so sorry babe I’m so sorry that I’m this person now I’m so scared and I’m so useless I can’t get anything right. Please God please help me please don’t let me stay this way please I don’t want to be an embarrassing failure who can’t offer anything to the love of my life. I can’t stop crying and asking ‘what did I do?’ but I’m scared to know oh god this would have fixed everything and now I oh ib can’t keep writing Im just crying too hard now I won’t do anything bad to myself but god I want to I hurt so much
I’m going to be 36 in a few days. Maybe I should jam a fucking knife in my chest for a fucking gift.
Useless useless useless I’ve got no job haven’t had one for a year and a half almost and the girl I loved SO MUCH the girl I thought loved ME OH you should hear how she speaks to me, like I’m a moron like cause I don’t have a job automatically I lost all the gifts I had that were a part of me and made me worthwhile I’m scared to work again but I’m scared of staying this way, what does that say to you?
I know what it says to me. I just want this to stop. Either let me have a bit of that life I enjoyed so much before I met her and my ex back or just let me die. Let me score some heroin and do myself in, it’s less scary than a job where I fail until I hate myself and everyone hates me or I do nothing til my gf is disgusted by me and chucks out and I die in the street either being kicked to death or we’re back to heroin
I wonder if you’ll ever see this. I wonder if you’ll ever know exactly what you did or I did. I wish I could tell you how I feel but it changes day to day and please God tomorrow will be different because today I want to die. I hope I am only a corpse tomorrow morning. I think about death so much its too strange to think any of this is real. Me, who loved life and living and had all these things she wanted us to do.
She’s dead now, as dead as that girl at the x I thought was who you really would be to me , my god all this carnage, how did it go so horrible when I tried and tried to please you and yeah, hesitant sometimes, wanting to hang onto a few ‘what if’ doubts and for THAT for THAT you hurt me so much so much you terrified me. I tried to kill myself 2 times to get away. I thought my life force would return when you were gone but it hasn’t, I thought it would but I feel nothing but either numbness or exhaustion or grief or uselessness, I’m so self conscious now and so dull-brained, anyone else who loved me seems to have forgotten all about me or is so crushingly disappointed in me. So now all I want is the opposite of what I thought I did- the old place has gone but the x x bed survived, maybe someday we’ll reunite, lie there and leave this awful unhappy place in a puff of smoke.
…. And after I survived the 16 year eating disorder
…… And after the heartbreak that brought me here in the first place
….. And after I pulled a life together, a good life, a wonderful one
…… And after I let him do it all to me again in 2016, but rallied faster and better than I had imagined possible
…. And after knowing I could survive him I kept just making my life better, doing that ‘living every day to the fullest’ thing like I always wanted to, but for real
…. And after thinking, ‘having someone to share all this with would be lovely. Not necessary, but it would be lovely’
…… And after meeting a girl who I could actually imagine myself with, who was clever and said wonderful things and had this rock-star sexiness to her….
…. And after saying I loved her
….. And after her saying it back
….. And after she came to live with me
She wasn’t there any more. This woman I barely recognised who seemed to really fucking hate me even as she said she loved me was there. She’d do me ‘favours’ I didn’t ask for then scream at me about all the things she did while I was just selfish; she screamed at me some more for not initiating affection (it’s not enough to return affection enthusiastically, you need to initiate it or it makes her feel like shit. Even if you explain that it’s difficult for you to do that and why, she will scream the same sentences again and again and again), then she began to shout at me about sex, I start to consent every time even when I don’t want to, but isn’t enough, I need to initiate it or I’m selfish and I make her feel like shit. I do it. She won’t let me be on my own, she even wants me to sit in the bathroom while she washes her hair, I say no once and the screaming lasts all night, I hate her, hate her, hate her, but I can’t leave, it’s my home, and I can’t make her leave, she says she’ll kill herself if we break up, she says I’m killing her, when I say ‘I can’t deal with being shouted at like this, if you’re angry about something just try and tell me calmly’ she screams that I’m torturing her emotionally, she threatens to crash the car when we’re driving home from work, I hate her so much but I can’t leave because I’m the bad one too, I’m secretly in love with her friend, I’ve told nobody and done nothing but I know I can’t lose this miracle of a girl so I let it go on as I think of how to get out of this hell, I begin to starve and act crazy so maybe she will leave me, or everyone will think I’ve lost my mind so I can finish with her and she’ll just think it’s cause I’m crazy and somehow she won’t kill herself or me and I forgot the one other thing I love, the one part of that girl I met back in that other life that hasn’t gone away and that’s the drugs.
At first I take the drugs because it’s fun to do them with her, then also to keep myself going on no sleep, then also to ignore how hungry I am but then when we break up, finally, thank God, after a fight puts me in the hospital (a seizure) I realise I am not ready to stop taking them.
She keeps visiting me as a friend or because we had tickets to so-and-so and gives me drugs, I siphon off what I can but I can’t make it last forever, she offers to supply me then picks a fight the day the drugs arrive, tells me I’m ruining her life and she wants nothing more to do with me and I need my drugs now, let’s not kid ourselves, my disorder is back with a vengeance and it needs the drugs and I get back with her, that’s right, I sold my very self for drugs and its another 8 months of abuse and two overdoses (I was so high when I did both I honestly don’t know what my intent was but I know I wanted to be away from her by any means) before the girl I love speaks to me privately, tells me I must finish this, I can’t live this way and the next day I tell my work what’s going to happen just in case something goes wrong and I finish it, it takes all night but I am not her girlfriend by the end.
I give her a few weeks to move out.
She gives me heroin.
I took it voluntarily. This is my fault. I take it again and again because I love it and then because I can’t stand not having it, I stop talking to her about moving out because heroin, I change jobs because maybe it’s a fresh start no, it’s heroin, and it’s the other drugs to get me through the hours before heroin, all I want is heroin and to be thinner and for the girl I love to message me (which she does, a lot, I answer her in heroin hazes or actual blackouts but I sound like myself, just some bad spelling) I know I can’t do this forever but I can have the next hit what else is there, more heroin, the size of my longing is shocking and I’ve been shocked by what I can feel before but this, this, this
I make an appointment at the methadone clinic and the night before, I stay over with the girl I love and she tells me she loves me and WE ARE TOGETHER
And my ex moves away at last and I move in with the girl I love and then there’s this fuck up with my methadone, they don’t tell me the right place to get it and I think ‘hell with it, what better time really to get actually clean? It’s only methadone after all.’
I don’t remember much about the following week or so. Just pain, mostly in my hips, stomach and knees, being sick, taking so many painkillers and sleeping pills my girlfriend was stunned when she checked our box of medicines, there’s not much else.
Except that even now, almost a full month on from my last dose of methadone, I am…. Not all here. The pain has stopped but I feel so empty. I’m with the love of my life, I escaped my ex and heroin, and I feel so…. Weak. Physically, mentally, I am so flat and absent, I feel bits and flickers of things but mostly I feel nothing. There’s no joy to me. There’s no will to live. I would lie down and close my eyes and just die if I could, I just want to stop living. It is so exhausting. I am so goddamn exhausted and I’ve put my lenses in and walked to the corner shop. I have to get dressed so my poor girlfriend doesn’t realise I’ve been in my pajamas all day while she’s been at work and then I need to smile and not say cause oh god help, she can’t know. I love her so much but I can hardly feel a thing. How can this be? Have I ruined my brain forever?
Every other thing that bought me here before has been exposed as the bratty screams of the green little nitwit they are. THIS being the rest of my life is the true horror. I can’t do this. This is not life. How could I get everything I wanted at this cost? Please God, please no, please, don’t let it be forever, this lethargy, this exhaustion, please let me come back, please, please, I want to feel, I want to care, I want to be who I was, I am sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Please.
….because I’m not going to die, however badly I want to.
….because I know I’ll come back here and read this one day.
I hope you feel better now. You MUST do- if there’s no ‘better’ than this (as I’m so afraid might be the case) it seems impossible I’m still alive.
I hope you got to feel happiness again. I wonder how? I’m in so much pain now, Even if something happens to make me happy, the pain taints it. I didn’t know that was a real thing- I thought people were ungrateful for saying that! So ignorant.
I miss him so much. I’m scared to ask if you still miss him, if you think about him even in your sleep, if you talk to him in your head, he’s the only person you want to talk to. I hope it doesn’t hurt so bad if you do- in your chest, in your throat, in your stomach. I can’t believe it’s come to this, again. Sometimes it hits me over and over what’s happened and it’s like seeing the truth of my whole life and that’s when I beg for death. I hope you found out those moments aren’t really the truth- I just don’t know at the moment.
God I hope you’re reading this and nodding and smiling to yourself cause now you know the reason all this happened and it’s all ok now and you have peace.
Some stuff to remember! (because one good thing- I say ‘good’ very euphemistically- is that I learnt a lot the last two and a half months)
Don’t ever be afraid to tell the truth! Even if it’s scary or embarassing- you will regret a lie so much worse.
Hang onto everything, however silly it seems, that makes you feel that pure love from out of the blue- REMEMBER that is what will save you. And you ARE NOT a bad person if you can feel that. As long as you can feel that, YOU ARE NOT IRREDEEMABLY BAD.
Don’t forget how little things that would have floored you before seem now- you’ve known pain beyond anything you thought you could produce, whatever truths and lies are part of it, that is true; they are so little.
All your superstitions? However it might seem, they have not protected you from shit. Stop if you’re going back to them! It. Isn’t. True. Work hard, be kind, be authentic, creative and determined. Those are the only determining factors in what happens next.
You are powerful, powerful, powerful. Feel it. I hope you feel it.
I hope you are ok now. We can’t go back (even though that’s all I want) but I hope there’s a future worth all this.
(TW mentions cutting)
I’m scared. I can’t shake this misery. I don’t know how to.
I’m so afraid of death but so afraid of carrying on with my life- is it just going to be like this from now on? Hurt piled upon hurt upon hurt and the remedy all in other people’s hands?
I don’t know how other people live. How do they know who they are? The only identity I have is my achievements and when I’m prevented from achieving (by rejection, by being overlooked, by not being WHAT PEOPLE WANT) my drive to live just runs out immediately.
This morning I cried and shrieked and hated everyone and myself and prayed and prayed for something to give me hope, some sort of comfort, something to change. It’s so scary to scream at the top of your lungs knowing nobody can hear and there’s no power behind it, it’s the scream of someone who is utterly unable to affect their own life.
Now I’m worn out and I’m just…here, existing, watching the time pass.
I know this. I’ve been here before. There’s always something I fixate on and it becomes the only thing that can save me from exactly this, this horrified endless stare into the pathetic thing that is my life. But I’m sure the agony was never as astonishing as this- it’s like everything is lost to me now. I’ve been cheated out of it and I don’t know how, I don’t know WHY. I just want it to stop.
I’ve tried to tell myself all the things you’re supposed to- that everything happens for a reason, that in five years none of this will matter. I believe both those things but somehow it’s irrelevant that I do- I’m lost in this moment and the fear that it’s not a moment, that this is how it really is from now on. I’m nothing- I’m a waste of a body- I’m forgotten- I’m overlooked- I’m shut out- I’m hated. I can’t escape that.
I looked at my arm, so scarred and white, but strong. I saw myself slicing it right open and I felt such longing, but just as equally I felt my mind rejecting the idea. No, then. Not just for the people I want to protect (and who I’m so sorry, so very very sorry, I can’t make reason enough to not have these thoughts) but for the ‘me’ bobbing around somewhere in the obsessiveness and unhappiness.
I am so afraid. if this is forever then there is no reason to live. Living can’t be anything. It would be a relief to die. But I can’t die. Why am I so afraid to die if I really am the empty nothing being I feel like?
Because I’m capable of SO MUCH joy. THAT is what hurts. I’ve felt it. And yet I can’t summon that joy for myself- I have to ACHIEVE it. And I’m being blocked from doing that. they aren’t just depriving me of opportunity- that would be painful enough in itself- but they are cutting me off from that happiness, the happiness that transforms me into a real person.
God save me. God save me. God save me. Let me have my hope back.
Just sinking so low. I haven’t written in my journal (which I’ve kept since I was 15) since that night. that fact in itself scares me. I don’t want death, I’m certain of it, not when my head is clear. But I just urt so bad, nearly every morning I wake up and brace myself for the wave of misery, hope it’ll be over fast and won’t keep welling up on and off all day.
I am… no nice way to put it, I am a failure. I’ll be 29 tomorrow. I ave never been able to have a relationship in my life: just the idea makes me feel dirty and invaded. Except for him, I never loved anyone, not that way. It was as lonely and distressing and bloody boring as it sounds. Imagine your life, minus every loving moment, every intimacy. Nice, isn’t it? Every bit of sexual contact experienced as a terrifying violation. Every compliment making you feel ashamed.
Only he make me feel complete. And he doesn’t love me. or want to be in the same room as me or speak to me. i drag that around every second of the day. every day I spend doing nothing; cleaning fucking offices, because a) my paranoia is so bad I just can’t be in a context where I’m required to take on any real responsibility b) the only tools I ave to save myself demand a certain amount of free time. sorry mum for all that money spent providing me with an enviable education. sorry extra sorry for whatever dreams you had for me when I was tiny. i’m so sorry mum and dad, for being 29 and so weak I can’t be normal, i’m letting my life fall into blackness over a man who doesn’t love me, i don’t mean to be this way.
For them I won’t do anything really terrible. i can’t bring that on them daughter dead of suicide no no they deserve so much better
so i maybe shouldn’t be writing here when i’m trying to remind myself to STAY ALIVE JUST CLING TO WHATEVER HOPE YOU CAN SCROUNGE I suppose I’m just writing because I miss mulling business over in my journal. But I’m afraid to even look at it now. it hurts too much.
So that’s today. 29 tomorrow. Scared of my own thoughts, scared of what a man miles away may do next, that e’ll hurt me more without even knowing it, strip away even the thin hopes I still possess. Clinging the hell on. That’s all.
Love you darling. love you still after all this time
I just can’t do this. I keep trying and trying to just BEAR IT but I can’t.
I can’t bear it. Is this really what’s going to finish me off? THIS is going to be the reason my life ends? Over someone who doesn’t love me? That is one of the stupidest, most childish and facile things I have ever heard and yet it’s my life, it’s happening to me, I never thought in all these years struggling to stay alive with my disorder, praying sometimes I’d wake up in the morning, the loneliness, the money, jobs and time (so much time) all lost, the defeats repeated hundreds of times over, the physical and mental pain, and I never gave up, I ALWAYS wanted my life…
and now I don’t, I can’t. I feel so dirty and cheated and just crushed, all the hope has gone out of me, I can’t live without him in my life, in one way or another, I don’t care if it’s as my partner or my friend (hell, I think as a friend would be better really) I JUST NEED HIM BACK GOD PLEASE YOU COULD END ALL THIS YOU COULD GIVE ME BACK THAT HOPE JUST WITH THIS ONE THING THIS SIMPLE THING PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
The horror keeps swimming up in me… it feels like a nightmare. It can’t be real- but it is. Oh God it is. I can’t live with it, I try to tell myself to fight but I can’t, there’s nothing to fight for. Nothing matters.
I was so lonely and so closed off from life. All the normal things you go through as you grow up, I never really experienced. So often in pain, completely obsessed, often looked at with disgust or incomprehension or exasperation; why can’t she JUST BE NORMAL??? I didn’t mind… I was so sure what was waiting for me would be worth it, that every miserable wasted day would be worth the sacrifice because I WANTED MY LIFE…
And it’s gone. It’s gone; you see, he was what I was waiting for all that time. He was the only thing that made up for it. He was the colour and the warmth and the incentive in my world and there was never a moment I wasn’t grateful he was there, I’m not just throwing that phrase around, I was so happy and so grateful. The emptiness was full.
Then, gone. I had it so briefly, so very briefly I don’t feel it was really mine. I meant shit to him. I hate myself for it and I… I don’t know if I hate him but I’m so angry, so fking hurt, so humiliated, I can hardly bear to write it but he found someone he liked better, they were together within two weeks, the thing that meant a new start and, well, salvation for me was just appropriated so easily by someone who… oh God, she’s awful, awful, I don’t want that to be true but she is, I can’t bear it, he’s gone and it’s been so long now, I have tried for so long but the pain, it won’t stop, it just won’t stop, I was so empty and just for the littlest while I knew what it was to live without the emptiness, then it was ripped away and now I have the emptiness AND the unendurable grief.
And this is what I stayed alive for?
It’s not suicide if I go back to the disorder and let it run it’s course… but I don’t even feel I can do that. It was such hard work fighting it, it would be like a kind of denial. I won’t die forcing myself to be in denial.
I just can’t find a solution. I can’t bear this agony. I can’t. Christ, I don’t even know how to get through the next five minutes I just can’t, please God, all I can do is pray and pray and pray and pray that somehow this ends oh God it has to end this nightmare has to be over over over oh God please
I can’t help but feel guilty for even being here. I’ve always believed life is a gift and there’s nothing so bad that it can actually ruin your life; surely if you are so desperate you are contemplating taking your life then surely you are desperate enough to try anything else that might alleviate your pain- and, I so smugly thought, totally changing the life you couldn’t live with would, voila, take away the belief that you need to die.
I WAS SO WRONG.
I understand now. No matter what I do, if I moved a thousand miles away, if I threw myself into a new career, if I married the first person who shows an interest in me and punched out six kids, this will never, ever be fixed. My life has become a black, ugly thing, it hurts to be awake, to think, I’m not safe in my own mind. THIS Â is what those people who took they’re on lives were trying to escape. I understand now.
I’ve tried for so long to be brave, to make a life for myself that didn’t leave me afraid to turn the lights off, leaving me with this terrible knowledge. A year and a half. I felt better… not good, but better. But when I saw him, with her, I knew I’d been lying to myself. The ghost of the life I could have had had destroyed the life I have now. Nothing- even what should be good- has any meaning. I feel dirty all the time, shaken and contaminated. And her, her, she has everything and God forgive me how I hate her for it- I even did that pathetic Facebook trawl for info on her because I wanted to believe she was a good person, that at least this was FAIR, I can live with it if it’s fair but she’s not, SHE’S NOT. I’m no saint but dear Christ; she’s judgemental (cross-dressing is ‘disturbing’-really?), she’s boastful, she doesn’t seem very clever and seems to really enjoy giving people public guilt trips. And she has taken my life from me, effectively… she has the life I needed. Oh God oh God I’m getting that breathless awful cracking-down-the-middle feeling, it’s the unfairness of it GOD don’t make me live in this unfairness, please please please please no
you see why I can’t carry on, I can’t. I don’t want to die, I’m terrified to die and the thought of never seeing my family again has just doubled the pain that reared up while I was remembering that moment looking at her Facebook page. My chest hurts like it has for two days but at least I’m not crying. I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared to die but how can I live with this pain? I’ve not had more than an hour without thinking of him in over two years. I’ve not had a day go by without either having to ram the grief back or just plain old bursting into tears in a year and a half. If it was going to get better, it would have got better by now.
My life has already gone. I know that. They took it.
It’s just a question of if I can carry on indefinitely til a bus crash or cancer or anything just wipes out my consciousness or if I’m going end up bowing out of the suffering. Part of me won’t ever stop hoping this will change somehow, until I’m dead.