I’m [broken]. Do you get that on any level? You want me to be normal, and I’m never going to be.
~ Emma, Red Band Society
I’m tired, man. I’m getting really exhausted. how hard does a person how to fight to live, to wake up?
I was getting dressed this morning. I put on my bra. and then I started to put on my pants. I remembered that with these pants, I actually had to wear underwear (I often go commando) due to comfort reasons; I realised this after the pants were already halfway on. so that meant I had to undo what I just did, put on underwear, then redo it all over again.
I didn’t have that in me. I took the pants off and hid under the covers in bed. I stayed there a good seven or so minutes, because even the prospect of fucking getting dressed was too much for me to handle.
but eventually, I managed. I got out of bed; I put on clothes; I went to the doctor’s; I went to work; I’m (kinda) doing my job. and then tonight, I’ll go home; I’ll go to rehab; I’ll play nice; I’ll go home; I’ll pretend to be alive inside; and I’ll cry myself to sleep, again.
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour;
but heaven knows I’m miserable now.
two lovers entwined, pass me by;
and heaven knows I’m miserable now.
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job;
and heaven knows I’m miserable now.
while merely brushing my teeth last night, while lying in bed afterwards, even when I awoke this morning — I was pondering what tactics would work. I’d throw pills up; I don’t own a gun; I’d paralyze myself before snapping my neck; I shake too much to cut a straight line.
I suppose carbon monoxide is a maybe; sneak out in the middle of night when no one is paying attention to a running car. also jumping; that would actually be pleasant; but messy for whoever has to deal with it.
what she asked of me at the end of the day,
Caligula would have blushed.
“you’ve been the House too long”, she said;
and I naturally fled.
a student told me about a childhood friend of his who killed himself Monday. then he told me how his own father was anti-suicide, calling those who kill themselves cowards.
I got up on my high horse and informed the student that sometimes people suffer so much that finally taking control of their own life is one of the strongest and bravest things they could ever do. I believe that. I strongly believe that.
why do I have to be alive for you? you just want what’s best for me, right? you want me to stop hurting, to be happy? this is not happiness; this is pain, this is sorrow, this is longing, and this is regret. this is despair, hopeless, and self-hatred. happiness would be ceasing to exist; that would be freedom.
but instead, you not only ask me to stay alive for you, but to also live as you’d like me to, do as you want me to.
so you don’t really want me alive; you just want my life.
in my life,
why do I smile
at people who I’d much rather kick in the eye?
I’m not doing it anytime soon; don’t worry. the holidays are a horrible time to do this, as it is selfish; it ruins the holiday season for the families. but I do think I’ll start making my plan. I seek out proper tools or methods; I’ll find a good location, a good approach. that way, after all this holiday bullshit is over, after I’ve stayed alive long enough for everyone else, I can make a decision for myself.
in the meantime, I’ll play nice.
after the interactions I’ve had with my counselor this week (I need to write about that later), I’m ready to quit. I’ll keep aiming for sobriety, sure. but not because I want it; rather, I’m in the mindset that I need it.
I need it to keep people off my back.
I need it to have people believe I’m getting better.
lyrics courtesy of The Smiths's "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now"