|
how fucking boring depressed people are. Just when everyone runs out of care to buck up the little camper, the little camper knows they're a lost cause. just spent yet more money on bullshit. I'm scared all the time, and last night - or rather this morning - I fucking looked up "painless ways to commit suicide". In all my ideation, I'd never done that before. My idea about fasting to death seems more painful than I had realized, yet still seems the way to go. I wept a bit in the pre-dawn, and I knew I would die and no one would ever know what pain I am in - just how annoying I am.
Let's be real. The money I've spent lately has been on taking myself out on a date, feeding myself, a printer from which I can get my application (old-fashioned) and W-2 done, and ta-da a dupe ring to try and trick the women into thinking I'm not a loser that lost the most valuable family heirloom.
In other news, I'm quite certain I"m in huge depression. It hasn't been as apparent to me, but I haven't laughed in memory (and god knows I should laugh at myself) nor I have I listened to music except that one day where I got drunk and high off THC-A - whee. Now, I'm just boring.
In my research on suicide, it seems many people do it when they think they'll be a burden to their family. Me? I'm not even liked by my family - just loved. Who the fuck wants to go through life unliked. Egads.
The reason I write to you is that one day I'll be gone. Newsflash, so will you.
When you get super desperate, and your mom is too old to take you on as a burden and you're not drunk enough to rail - you quietly, desperately pray.
"dear god. forgive me for my sins. forgive me for being arrogant. forgive me for my pride. Forgive me for edith. forgive me for pawpadz. forgive me for being so weak."
and then, you get up and make the sugar cookies from the dough you had in the fridge and eat the last of the Hershey kisses. You don't even think about the huge shitty corporations you voted with your dollar for - because you don't have any morals anymore. You're an old hag who is going to be replaced by AI in a month or so if you're lucky. You're a fraud hanging on to a lie. You've made terrible decisions, and now you sit in them. They stink like your armpits. You haven't taken a bath in days, but you hate baths now in this free place because you only get six inches of hot water before the tank is depleted.
You fucking taking your pills because you pray like god that you can get back to that numbness you had before your birthday. You dream about the huge lawsuit your family can impose on your employer for depriving you of healthcare.
At the same time, you still have the tiniest spark of hope. You know it won't work, but you wonder if it's possible to be the wounded healer - if you can get paid to have people unload their problems on you. You're terrified to reach out to anyone because you know what they'll all say "go to the doctor - see your therapist", but you don't have a doctor nor a therapist. You've called the insurance company and your employer three times and have two cases out but they've told you it won't get resolved until January. So you use that huge brain to overthink things in your big fucking head and you feel the biggest pity party table for one that you can muster.
Who would care? and you think - what would you do if one of your nebulous friends/relatives chose you to say "I looked up painless ways to kill myself and I'm scared".... you know that you're a great friend in crisis. You're shit in the day to day, but something terrible happens and you're on them like glue. You know that you would immediately call them and talk to them and say you loved them and then after that you would let them cry with you and you would text them constantly "how are you" "I'm thinking about you." You would keep them in your thoughts - which to you is your prayers."
but when would you get sick of it? when would you start to yawn and say "Bettina, for fuck's sake - you need to get drunk or better drugs or something. You haven't done jack shit to solve anything and we've been agony aunt-ing for countless days. Can something change?"
who wants to hear about your tooth? who wants to hear about your fears? that therapist - the last one you had - she was so very nice and you often just cried a lot in front of the video screen that connected you. Now, everything that anyone could do had been done - you're living in a time-limited free rent house and it's up to you weather you psych yourself out about the future.
You think of that cat you saw on the Atlanta site they named Pawdry Hepburn and you think how you would love to have her shy fierce face living with you, but you know that you're thinking of dying and crashing. your company is doing a massive layoff next month, and your entire career is being phased out.
yawn
|