Fear and courage
Wow... I've been... not posting lately...
Life is currently... not a happy place. I mean... I tried. I really, sincerely gave it my best. I smiled, I thought positive, I got out and visited people. And you know what? I feel worse then I did before.
Clinical depression for me is all about that constant feeling of... worthlessness, hopelessness... all about that emptiness where something, anything should be.
This stupid, hell born sickness has cost me friends (Either because I talked too much, and let them know that yes, my day was bad, and no I wasn't all right. Or because I actually tried to explain that no, I can't cheer up, I have an illness where the key symptom is a distinct -lack- of happy.) It's cost me a chunk of my sanity (I can't bear silence, because when there isn't something for me to listen to, I hear... things. That I know aren't there. And that knowledge doesn't help) And it's cost me my life. I had... dreams, and plans and a future. I knew what I was doing and where I was going. And now? My family worries that I'll never graduate high school.
And times like this. They're the worst. Becuase I have no one to talk to. No one but the voices in my head and they're no help at all. I know there are people that have told me "No matter what, I'll be here for you." and people that have told me "Any time, day or night, you start feeling that way, you call me."
But I can't call them. Becuase once upon a time I took them seriously. Once upon a time I did tell them. I did talk to people. And that just put me in a worse hell then before. And it's not like there's anyone that I can talk to. No one's online, I'm certainly not going to call anyone... So it's just me and the nasties in my head.
It's hard to believe, on a planet with billions of people, I can feel so alone. I don't have the energy to do anything. I've tried. School work just sits there, I can't get interested in any online games, and the second I try and start writing something, the muses just vanish. And I think this is what hell is like. The want to do something, just not the will...
And I know I'm well off. I live in a nice house, I have more then enough food. I have a dry bed, and loving parents, and a pair of dogs and nice things. There are people being murdered and tortured and raped. And you know what? That makes me feel worse. Because my life is nice, and thiers isn't, and I've done nothing to deserve this. I -deserve- to die. I deserve to stop wasting space, and resources and oxygen, so all my nice things can go to people who deserve them.
But it's times like this, when it's late, and I'm all alone. When the demons inside me are laughing. When all I can think of is what's wrong with me... It's times like this when I realize just how much of a coward I am. People say suicide is the cowards way out. Because you're running away from your problems. But do they realize how much force of will it takes to push aside the body's will to survive? To shoulder past those instinctive defences? When you get down to it, I'm a pain sensitive coward, who doesn't have the courage to pick up the knife, or knot that noose, no matter how much I want to die.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I talk with him. Because for me, Death, the Grim Reaper, is a man. He's pretty attractive too. Has very pretty eyes, and pale skin, and the most beautiful smile. Just about my age, maybe a bit older. And he's so gentle, and welcoming. And he hugs me, and it's so warm I can hardly stand it. And I want so badly to stay with him. Because out here, in this world, I'm unlovable. Yes, people tell me I'm pretty. But we're obviously looking in different mirrors. Maybe on the outside, I've got a few attractive features. But on the inside? On the inside, I know myself, and I'm not a pretty person. If I was beautiful, on the inside, people wouldn't leave me, or hurt me, or tell me things just to see me cry. And even if they did, I'd be okay. But as it stands? I'm surrounded by beautiful people. I have women I think are goddesses. I have men who I think are Adonis in the flesh. And not a one of them knows I exist. And you know? It's better that way. If my taint, my poison, every stained one of them, I think I'd gain the courage I lack.
Maybe... maybe it's because I fear what comes next? I have ideas... beliefs. But there are so many places... And I think of what I know of theology. And I worry about who's right. A part of me wants to find out who's got it right. And a part of me... looks at Dante, and hell, and doesn't want to know.
So now... now I just sit, and cry and feel him hug me. And hear his voice, whispering gently in my ear. He... she... it... loves us. Every one of us. Everything with a life. And we all come. Eventually. But I can't seem to manage it. I look. I think. I plan. But in the end, I can't manage it. I'm a failure to the end. A worthless failure, with no life, who's only purpose is to serve as an example to others. "Don't do this children. Or you'll end up like her." I've lost so much... And even then, I know other's have lost more. But that doesn't stop it from hurting...
I'm going to stop this rambling little journey through my mind now. I wouldn't want anyone to get... frusterated with me. I think... I'm not sure what I think...
Life is currently... not a happy place. I mean... I tried. I really, sincerely gave it my best. I smiled, I thought positive, I got out and visited people. And you know what? I feel worse then I did before.
Clinical depression for me is all about that constant feeling of... worthlessness, hopelessness... all about that emptiness where something, anything should be.
This stupid, hell born sickness has cost me friends (Either because I talked too much, and let them know that yes, my day was bad, and no I wasn't all right. Or because I actually tried to explain that no, I can't cheer up, I have an illness where the key symptom is a distinct -lack- of happy.) It's cost me a chunk of my sanity (I can't bear silence, because when there isn't something for me to listen to, I hear... things. That I know aren't there. And that knowledge doesn't help) And it's cost me my life. I had... dreams, and plans and a future. I knew what I was doing and where I was going. And now? My family worries that I'll never graduate high school.
And times like this. They're the worst. Becuase I have no one to talk to. No one but the voices in my head and they're no help at all. I know there are people that have told me "No matter what, I'll be here for you." and people that have told me "Any time, day or night, you start feeling that way, you call me."
But I can't call them. Becuase once upon a time I took them seriously. Once upon a time I did tell them. I did talk to people. And that just put me in a worse hell then before. And it's not like there's anyone that I can talk to. No one's online, I'm certainly not going to call anyone... So it's just me and the nasties in my head.
It's hard to believe, on a planet with billions of people, I can feel so alone. I don't have the energy to do anything. I've tried. School work just sits there, I can't get interested in any online games, and the second I try and start writing something, the muses just vanish. And I think this is what hell is like. The want to do something, just not the will...
And I know I'm well off. I live in a nice house, I have more then enough food. I have a dry bed, and loving parents, and a pair of dogs and nice things. There are people being murdered and tortured and raped. And you know what? That makes me feel worse. Because my life is nice, and thiers isn't, and I've done nothing to deserve this. I -deserve- to die. I deserve to stop wasting space, and resources and oxygen, so all my nice things can go to people who deserve them.
But it's times like this, when it's late, and I'm all alone. When the demons inside me are laughing. When all I can think of is what's wrong with me... It's times like this when I realize just how much of a coward I am. People say suicide is the cowards way out. Because you're running away from your problems. But do they realize how much force of will it takes to push aside the body's will to survive? To shoulder past those instinctive defences? When you get down to it, I'm a pain sensitive coward, who doesn't have the courage to pick up the knife, or knot that noose, no matter how much I want to die.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I talk with him. Because for me, Death, the Grim Reaper, is a man. He's pretty attractive too. Has very pretty eyes, and pale skin, and the most beautiful smile. Just about my age, maybe a bit older. And he's so gentle, and welcoming. And he hugs me, and it's so warm I can hardly stand it. And I want so badly to stay with him. Because out here, in this world, I'm unlovable. Yes, people tell me I'm pretty. But we're obviously looking in different mirrors. Maybe on the outside, I've got a few attractive features. But on the inside? On the inside, I know myself, and I'm not a pretty person. If I was beautiful, on the inside, people wouldn't leave me, or hurt me, or tell me things just to see me cry. And even if they did, I'd be okay. But as it stands? I'm surrounded by beautiful people. I have women I think are goddesses. I have men who I think are Adonis in the flesh. And not a one of them knows I exist. And you know? It's better that way. If my taint, my poison, every stained one of them, I think I'd gain the courage I lack.
Maybe... maybe it's because I fear what comes next? I have ideas... beliefs. But there are so many places... And I think of what I know of theology. And I worry about who's right. A part of me wants to find out who's got it right. And a part of me... looks at Dante, and hell, and doesn't want to know.
So now... now I just sit, and cry and feel him hug me. And hear his voice, whispering gently in my ear. He... she... it... loves us. Every one of us. Everything with a life. And we all come. Eventually. But I can't seem to manage it. I look. I think. I plan. But in the end, I can't manage it. I'm a failure to the end. A worthless failure, with no life, who's only purpose is to serve as an example to others. "Don't do this children. Or you'll end up like her." I've lost so much... And even then, I know other's have lost more. But that doesn't stop it from hurting...
I'm going to stop this rambling little journey through my mind now. I wouldn't want anyone to get... frusterated with me. I think... I'm not sure what I think...