I can't articulate what's wrong with me right now.
I can't explain what's wrong with me right now.
I can't control what's wrong with me right now.
All I can say is something is wrong with me right now.
I can say over and over again that I feel as though dying right now is the only thing that will make any of it go away. I know that come tomorrow morning it won't make any difference that I feel this way right now, or at least I can hope so. I've been laying in my bed for over an hour, unable to do anything but entertain the alluring idea of not existing. In my head, that's the only thing that will fix this, whatever this is. Words escape me. I can't look anyone in the eye. I want to tell people what's wrong, but I don't know how. I feel alone. I feel empty. I feel hopeless. I feel expendable. I feel, but I don't really feel. I'm trying to think of everything that makes me happy; of everything that makes me want to be alive. People, places, ideas- they're all sitting right here in my mind but for some reason it's not working. I'm still laying in this god forsaken bed thinking of how much I want to die. I know that I have plenty to live for. Believe me, I know that and I would hate for anyone reading this to think that I'm going to kill myself. I'm not. At least not any time soon. But this feeling, or lack there of, is overwhelming. Not in sense of making me cry. Not in the sense of stressing me out. It's overwhelming in an indescribable way. Half of me wants to sit here, alone, and just be without having to be. The other half of me wants someone to sit here with me and just be.
I keep closing my eyes, thinking maybe if I focus on my breathing all of this will ease up just enough to make it bearable. It's not working. Every time I close my eyes I see things I don't want to see. I try to listen to my breathing and realize I'm either holding my breath or breathing extremely unevenly. I want to tell someone this, but I don't because I don't want to worry anyone. I don't want to risk people seeing me differently. I don't want to let myself be vulnerable only to have whoever decides to listen think I'm overreacting or sounding stupid or making no sense or crazy. Definitely not crazy. I'm so sick of being crazy. I'm so sick of being ambivalent and hard to reach. I'm so sick of feeling like I have nothing to say. I'm so sick of having so much to say, and saying nothing. I'm just really sick of myself, whatever that even means.
Right now, I have no sense of self. I'm empty and sad but in such a way I feel neither empty or sad. I have no desire to put up with myself and I can't imagine anyone who should have to put up with me if I don't want to do the same. There is an urge, or maybe it's a thought, to just give up. To just stop. To lay in this bed and remain ineffectual to the world around me. Everything has been spinning just fine this entire time I've been laying here.
Why wouldn't it continue to do the same if I decided to do this forever?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
From the heart.
Straight from the mind of stephanie. sometime around 8:44 PM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 Comments, Questions, and Concerns:
Talk to me. Please.
I wont think less of you or any different of you.
Talk to me because I understand. I've felt it, I've endured it. The lack of hope, of motivation, of even caring. It's not always suicidal, sometimes it's just a lack of emotion.
I want to talk to you and help you out, anything you need. I've gotta say, I wish I had some sort of magical solution of "hey, I went through it and here's what you gotta do." except it's really never that easy and I don't even know what it was that made whatever was wrong with me click in my head and made me alright. But I know that when I felt like that, I did everything I could to push everyone away from me because I felt it was better to try to handle whatever was happening on my own, but really that's not the answer.
If you need anything, a random trip to the beach, a shopping buddy or just to talk, gimme a call.
Post a Comment