"I'm So Tired, Please Just Take Me Away."
Personal Regurgitations to Purge My Mind
Profound and painfully vivid thoughts of suicide have yet to let up and I feel my personality and what's left of my humanity slipping from my frail grasp. It feels as if there is something blocking me from the rest of the world and all the human beings that populate it. Like some sort of impenetrable, invisible, but ever-present, barrier lined with grinding spikes to make it so the more I try, the closer I get, the more painful it will all become for me. And this seems to run internally through me as well. Inseperably barbed up through my vital organs and lashing at my blood flow, all the spikes itching to burst out of the scarred surface of my skin.
Some days it doesn't feel like there is anyone or anything to blame other than myself and that my premature death is already "in the can", or predestined, already written, and completely unavoidable. There's nothing for me to do and my control over anything at all is a deeply rooted illusion. In that way, if I have felt, for several years now (nearly half my life, really), that I am doomed to kill myself then maybe that's just simply the way it is. This is how my life is playing out and my every action is in service of that, even if I feel that I am taking control during rare moments of experiencing a more rational lucidity. Make a choice and try to cause a change in your life and you're just adhering to the dream. Nothing can save me from this and I am utterly exhausted from endlessly searching for valuable reasons to remain alive. And I am utterly exhausted from fighting the increasingly intense and overwhelming suicidal thoughts.
Throughout my time dealing with whatever the hell I am dealing with exactly, and the unending push to put myself in an early grave, I used to be able to properly hide my feelings in front of others, and I could somehow manage, more or less, to bury the dangerous thoughts so as not to appear too affected by them in public. Don't get me wrong, I frequently looked (and still look) completely miserable in front of any sort of company - but there is a stark difference between looking bored and vaguely sad and the feeling that comes from being so overwhelmed with thoughts and vivid images pounding in your head telling you to go upstairs and slice your wrists open. And not visually appearing affected by the latter is becoming a nigh impossibility these days. I can't take it anymore.
I feel myself becoming paralyzed in those moments, my eyes wide like I'm gazing into a fresh new abyssal chasm of hell opening itself in front of me. And all of my surroundings, and anyone near me, falls away. A suicidal whiteout. I never used to cry in front of others, in fact, I barely used to cry at all even in previous violent throes of depression. I thought and figured that my tear ducts must have dried up long ago - or, maybe with the continual slipping of my personality and humanity from the rest of my conscious fleshy form, I've simply lost the ability to properly cry. And when an intense and unshakeable sadness wells up from the blackened, diseased pit of my being and when my throat feels as if it is being slowly clogged with jagged clumps of sand, and when all possible words thought or in need of being said fall away like maggots curling up and evaporating in the sun, I would assume that tears and weeping were to soon follow. But instead, I am stuck in that nasty emotional purgatory with the great catharsis following a flood of tears just out of my reach. The few times I did manage to cry, however, what ensued was almost more painful due to the lack of catharsis I felt. The crying felt as if it was being clumsily ripped out of me as if there was a giant meathook lodged in my esophagus struggling to pull out a tremendous planet from the depths of my being, but upon reaching my mouth it stopped and I was stuck chocking on the weight of an entire enflamed land mass while tiny asteroid chunks hastily slipped out and came painfully tumbling at my feet. There was nothing about it that made me feel any better whatsoever, and in fact, it would make me feel a great deal worse as I would be stuck questioning if these natural human reactions to heights of despair were something I was not capable of expressing, and if I did express them it was all an agonizing, poorly veiled farce. This is all to say that despite previous longstanding episodes of personal turmoil, self-hatred, and a constant reminder that I did not want to exist, I never felt as if I had to hold back crying in front of others because crying was never that much of a possibility. At my absolute worst moments I would become paralyzed and mute, utterly shut down and unmovable, while my mind whirred and quickly sank into an inescapable mire of depression, but no tears, not even the mere chance of them forming. Lately, it hasn't been as easy.
Whatever few mechanisms I unconsciously had in place to keep me from completely collapsing and exposing my emotional vulnerability around others have nearly been totally depleted and made void. The mere mention of certain specific things I am dealing with, or any sort of salient reminder (or even minor, stupid little trivialities), will send my entire emotional and mental core into a horrific maelstrom of fighting back emotions. If someone picks up on my obvious struggling (which has become easier and easier for people around me to do) and actually brings it into question, then the entire world feels as if it has opened up beneath my feet and is dragging me into a fresh pit of carnivorous hell. A simple, "I'm okay. I'm just tired", doesn't suffice anymore when I say those words from behind a wavering bulwark holding back a torrent of hysterics. I hold it together, somehow, and the only thing that follows is a deeper shame and another portion of my piecemeal psyche that I can feel erode from within me. Every interaction like this leaves me less and less of a human being. I am starting to side with the worms. Emotionless automatons without faces in an evolutionary and primally disagreeable and revolting form. Forging ahead without thought through undulating waves of their own shit. If I could somehow eradicate my own conscious awareness of my eventual death then all of this putrid emotional and mental hokum will be nil and I would be one with the worms - for all of these silly mental illness woes and constant suicidal ideation are the only facets of my self that make me human. Take them away and I am a numb squirming nothing hellbent on doing whatever I can for survival purely for no reason of my own, but to satisfy evolutionary instincts I have no control over. That's where I'd be happy, within the masses of worms.
-
Anyway, the following weighs heavily on my mind during every painfully slow-moving second of every painfully long day;
What do you do when you spent a considerable amount of time with someone who made you believe your life is worth living if it meant you can stay with them but then that person leaves? What do you do when you both, additionally, confessed to each other your shared desire to die within each other's arms? And now you're alone. You are left with that death drive intact, but no way to express it through love, togetherness, and empathy with the person that meant more than anything else in this putrid world ever could to you. No longer, not ever, can you get that person back and fulfill a final act of profound love with them and fall to death in their arms while they die in yours. That fantasy has been taken away and nothing could ever replace it. So what now? The urge to die is only stronger with the ensuing isolation, rejection, confusion, and the most powerful and harmful of unrequited feelings. I still want to die with her, but now I don't have her. And I'm back to wanting nothing more but to end my own life. Alone. That's all that's left.
-
Do I have anything left to say? My veins feel as if they are thinning, blood turning into a murky fog creeping through empty caverns within my arms. I want to rip my flesh open and let the fog breathe out of me, maybe then I'll feel some sort of relief.
Ever since being medicated, my brain feels more and more like an ineffectual mound of numb, slow pulsations with nothing of substance or use. Another period of being overwhelmed by thoughts I no longer know how to creatively express. I want to be done. Here's an excerpt from a recent sleepless night, unedited and messy:
"I can't sleep. I want to die. I'm 26 years old. Ten years ago I wanted to die. Six years ago I wanted to die. Three years ago I wanted to die.
I'm confused on who I am at this point in my life. I'm unable to feel like myself when I never really knew who or what I am. Something that should be defining me as a human being abandoned me at birth and left this body here to rot much too slowly once a now undetermined amount of time has passed. I didn't think I'd live to be 20. To 16 even. To 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26...etc. I'll be having these thoughts for the rest of my life, for as long as that might be. I think I've given up on wanting to actively kill myself, I don't even possess the freedom to do that when I don't feel like a defined individual in the first place. But I don't want to live and continue to BE. I didn't think there could be a feeling that seems to be further below even the most unfathomable depths of apathy and nothingness - but I've arrived. Whatever human aspect of me jettisoned this body I'm dealing with into the caverns of nothingness and whatever lies further below. And here it will remain, its only purpose being to miraculously manage to sink further and further down until the primordial engine gives out and whatever it is I am, whatever it is that is managing to loosely and haphazardly puppeteer my empty corpse, finally gives out and stops. I am nothing but a great [unreadable word] subjugated by these nonsense forces and without a definable self I can recognize there's no way out of this. Suicide is gifted to those who can muster up a will for something - and whatever I am simply can't even do that. I'm stuck. I'm doomed. I can't sleep."
That's it for now. I've had enough.
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