|payingattention (payingattention) wrote,|
@ 2008-07-03 09:16:00
I went out with Katie last night and managed to articulate my suicidal feelings better than I ever have before. Essentially, it's not that I want to die, it's just that, for whatever reason, suicide is slowly seeming like the only option I have left. It's an entirely bizarre feeling--I feel like I have absolutely no control over my life right now. I feel like a giant piece of myself is missing, like I'm sick and alone. It literally feels as though I'm in a bubble that everyone else is outside of, and I can't make anyone understand how I'm feeling. I feel more like I'm acting and less like I'm living. Everything I say is scripted, like "What can I do to fill this space in conversation without turning all the attention to myself and my illness?"
I've grown used to referring to it as an 'illness' as well, for some reason. Because it's more than just being sad. I need medication. I need help.
While I connect with myself to find joy in my life again, I need to wrestle with suicidal tendencies at all times. Part of me wants to break up with Amy so I'm free to harm myself without any guilt. I can slice my legs and thighs open freely and start to feel better (will I?) without having to worry about looking her in the eye and telling her I've done it. But that's foolish. Instead, I look for healthier things. I try to analyze why I feel so awful, though when I actually feel that way it's nearly impossible. Yesterday at work I felt like I couldn't move, that the minutes were just ticking by, that I was floating through my life. I was in so much pain. I went out after work and felt okay, got home and felt okay, and then woke up this morning and felt like shit.
I wish I could explain it. It's unlike anything else I've ever felt before. My short term memory hardly exists. When it's bad, it's really really really bad. I have no idea how to end it.
So. Three deep breaths, like I said. I'm reading again, journaling again. I'm going to Delaware tonight to keep up appearances, but I know when I get there I'll have a blast, just like last summer. I'm going to get a tattoo. I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm totally going to get a tattoo. I'm going to get LIVE tattooed down my leg, as a committment to life and to getting over this. I'll look at it thirty years from now and I'll remember who I was at this point in my life; my pain, my struggle, and my ultimate success.