Rants

everyone was gone today. they told me yesterday that they were going out. i made a plan then and there.

i was stupid. it was so dumb, the reason i failed.

i couldn’t make it out of the fucking house. between all the blood loss and not being able to afford to refill my prescriptions and not having the will to eat for the last couple of days, I could barely even physically make it to the door, scrabbling along the floor. i passed out and vommed from the attempt.

i couldn’t do it in the house, i can’t leave behind that sort of mess for them. i couldn’t even leave behind the vom- i took off my shirt and used it to wipe it up.

i hate forcing the burden of my prescence on them anyways- their kid’s good-for-nothing partner, college dropout who eats their food and uses their water and hasn’t even payed fucking rent since the pandemic started. i hate taking advantage of their charity and good nature. i am overwhelmed with guilt every time i take up their space or their resources- gluttonous me eating their food, wasteful me keeping the lamp on in our room all night bc im a grown fucking adult who’s afraid of what i’ll see in the dark,  annoying me getting stuck on an echolalia loop or accidentally infodumping in front of them. i feel terrible enough just walking past them, forcing them to have to deal with my disgusting presence until i’ve finished crossing the common room.

if i do it now, before i can figure out how to somehow pay them back for the money i owe and for the burden i’ve made myself, the very fucking least i can do is not leave a stinking mess for them to come home to and have to deal with. i refuse to inconvenience them like that.

and that’s the reason i fucking failed today.

when I was 6 and I wanted to die I told myself that if we could just make a little longer we would find a forever family and not be stuck in that forsaken group home anymore.

when I was 9 and I wanted to die I told myself that the little ones needed me to protect them, so I had to make it a little longer. until they knew how to protect themselves.

when I was 11 and I wanted to die I knew it meant my younger sibling would become the new scapegoat so I had to make it a little longer.

when I was 12 and I wanted to die my first friend made kandi for my wrist and told me that we could only die if we did it together. I had to make it a little longer, because I didn’t have the heart to watch her bleed out beside me.

when I was 14 and I wanted to die a woman found me on her morning walk and called the police. my adoptive parents made sure I knew better than to pull a stunt like that again. my sibling started talking to me again, when no one could catch us. I had forgot my purpose- to protect them.

when I was 14 and I wanted to die I had to hold out for my siblings.

when I was 15 and I wanted to die I had to wait a little longer, until we made out of that place. everything would be better when we got out. as an adult I’d be free

when I was 16 and I wanted to die I had to wait a little longer, until I was an adult and could be free

when I was 17 and I wanted to die I only had a year left, I could make it to freedom.

when I was 18 I moved out and my adoptive parents made sure I knew what the consequences would be. my younger sibling made it three months without me before their first attempt.

when I was 18 and I wanted to die I knew I had to keep going a little longer, keep working so I could send emergency money to my younger siblings, keep at school so I could provide better. I couldn’t keep up with school and I dropped out. I worked and I worked and my foster mom sabotaged me at every turn, fucking with my insurance, spreading lies and hate around the small town that I had to stay in to help my siblings.

One of the siblings is put of there- moved clear across the country. The other sibling is self sufficient enough now, far better than me in every way and with an escape plan and supports that do not involve me. The siblings do not need to be protected, and I am an adult.

I am 20 and I want to die, and there is nothing to wait for.

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Living:

– can read more fanfic
– pay back the woman who’s been housing me during the pandemic
– play animal crossing
– post fanart online and read the comments
– make the animatic
– jack off
– eat meat
– still have the chance to get thinner
– listen to my partner’s plans for their au
– attend conventions again, someday
– sing along to music, loud+alone

Dying:

– I won’t be cognizant of anyone perceiving me
– I will not have to figure out how pay anyone back
– never have to interact with my parents again
– not stuck in this fucking body anymore
– won’t ever have to be verbal
– no more food worries
– stop stringing along th ppl who care and forcing them to witness my lack of functionality. they can deal with my death+move on instead of constantly thinking I’ll get better and being proven wrong every day.
– will never have to do dishes again
– not have to feel the guilt of sleeping anymore
– not have to be awake anymore and experience input all the fucking time
– no more sensory overloads or meltdowns
– can eat raw bits of me b4 the end without having to worry abt overdoing it
– won’t have to worry about jobs+money

literally everyone i know has now fucked up their relationship with food?? wtf happened? i fucking hate how i can never go all the way in something ive been struggling for 4 years now and nothing happened even when i reached 14 bmi,, whenever i do lose im very good at hiding so no one thought of anything serious. i still would go out and eat and laugh, then run to a dirty public bathroom throw up my guts in the fastest time i could then go back to laughing and enjoying. and now at least 4 people i know keep telling me oh they havent eaten in 3 days oh they lost x kgs oh they Hate their appearance but they are now not eating so yayy!!!! and im like noo u should eat dont do that and in my head i keep tearing myself apart for not being in control enough.
the thing is its not just oh i want to look pretty.,its more like i cant bear the idea that my body exists. that i do exist and i take up place and it just ends me i want to rip my limbs apart Every Second Of Every Day. i have bruises from all the pinching of the skin along the cuts and i ripped a few clothes apart. ill never be okey because i want to disappear not just be thin. and now i not only have to hide my struggle but also help other people with it and be supportive and caring. but its also a competition.. i cant lose.
so i made up the puzzle of how to go on about it. my birthday is in two months. im gonna lose the 10 kg to reach 13 bmi again and then i can die cuz i cant die fat too.. literally the only thing stopping me. then i get to celebrate and say my lowkey goodbyes.
cant wait to be a goner.

Sooooo…. covid has not killed me. Doubtful it will. I rarely get sick. I get a mild cold/fever sometimes cuz i am allergic to my own eggs. So when i ovulate my body tries to kill the invaders. Lol.

Anyways,  my menstrual cycle messes with my hormones. Hormones mess with my brain chemicals. I get even more depressed. So lucky me! it’s the holidays and now i have that great social anxiety i get when i am going to be with my family for long periods of time. Yay.

And cuz of covid, work has really sucked. I have to work at home. The first couple months were great. But i work for the public. The best parts of my job are interacting with my coworkers and customers. So i have no work to do that i enjoy. I stopped working around july/august . Nobody noticed. Nobody has said anything. So i am grateful i am getting paid but feel guilty. I just realized i had to order something that needed to be here by January. It is december 23. I think how somebody else would not have let that slip. How somebody else could do my job better…or just fucking do it. I feel guilty. I also feel like i do shit like this on purpose to see if anybody notices..if anybody cares what i do. Maybe if i feel needed or necessary i would work like i can and should. Maybe i’d have a reason to get out of bed. Today I will come up with a lame excuse. Everybody will be understanding and i will keep my job. Sigh.

My to do list keeps growing. Lots of little things. Maybe 3 or 4 big things. Nothing that difficult. A few things are rather expensive and inconvenient. A lot of things i now have to do cuz i did not do other little things years, months, weeks ago. So my self destructive ways are seen at work, in my apt’s lil things that need to be fixed..now a few big things, my car-small things, now a few big things, and my body small things are now big things. Unfortunately one will not die from cavities. They do pull your half dead tooth and replace it with a fake one. I had to that once already. Very expensive, now i am gonna have to do it again. Cuz of my anxiety (and lack of care about being alive), i don’t go to the dentist or doctor.

I feel guilty for having insurance to go and not going. I feel guilty cuz it is a waste of money. and sooooooooo many folks would love to be able to go to the dentist and doctor on a regular basis.

I feel guilty for not liking my job anymore when soo many folks are jobless now due to covid.

I feel guilty for being so physically heathy but wishing i was dead when so many folks are sick.

I feel guilty for feeling needless anxiety about being with my family when sooo many folks cannot see their family or don’t have one or have an awful toxic family.

I feel guilty for not eating and sometimes wasting food when so many are starving.

I feel guilty for buying shit when i have so much debt and am not spending the money on others or stuff i actually need.

I feel guilty for taking up space in this world when i have no talents or anything to give to others to make their lives better.

I feel guilty for constantly fantasizing about committing suicide when i know my family loves me and i truly believe Christ died for me.

i feel guilty for being depressed when my life is not awful. I feel guilty for being depressed when i have never been physically or sexually abused or assualted. I feel guilty for being depressed when my heart has never been broken cuz i have never loved anything or anyone enough for that to happen.

i feel guilty for using real life celebrities as objects of my sexual fantasies and reading fanfics about them in order to self medicate and temporarily stop my mind from thinking about wanting to not exist.

I feel guilty for lamenting being kinda smart (cuz then maybe i’d be too dumb to be this depressed.) when so many folks i know struggled in school and work cuz they were not as bright as me.

I just feel so guilty.

but the guilt has kept me from committing suicide. I would not want to leave this mess of an apartment for my family to clean. I would never want to leave all these debts for my family to have deal with. I would never want my coworkers to think they should have known since we get training on mental health awareness every year. I would not want my friends on social media to think they should have seen the signs. I would not want the first responders to feel bad they could not save me. That and in my area there is high possiblity the first responder would actually be someone that knows me or my family. Sooo yeah i don’t want to add to anybody’s cache of trauma.

i always think if i had a family or a talent or was irreplaceable at work i would not feel like a waste of space. But the famous folks who have millions that love their creativity and the contents they produce commit suicide. Folks that have spouses and children and jobs that give joy to millions. I don’t understand why they think they are not worthy of space.

Sigh.

Me, i truly am not. So i don’t know why I am here. The whole point of humans is to love, be loved, and create. I am loved but i don’t love and neither do I create.

so why am i here?

…still.

Gibberish. A rant at a few windmills.

At least once every few years, we’re treated to headlines like todays. Great to see our leaders have scraped up enough cash to keep the government running through Sunday. That’s reassuring.  I can see them all, hunched over pizza boxes working overtime, tossing their spare change into a bucket labeled “u.s. fund.”