Monologue
More than anything, this blog is feeling less like a record of my experience than a gaping hole to toss thoughts I can't otherwise express into. Hardly anyone will read these, so whatever I say here is more or less shouting into an infinite void that will never respond, no matter how much I want it to.
I know that a lot of people talk to themselves more or less continuously in their minds, but I wonder how many have to endure a constant internal war between two mutually exclusive perspectives. A constant war where you have no idea which side is real, or if either side is real, or if anything that goes on can be trusted in any capacity. It's a miracle that I'm able to function at all when I can't trust any thought that crosses my mind.
She doesn't give a shit about you, and she probably never has. Probably wants you gone, out of her space, out of her life.
She does care, she just needs space. You know exactly the toll you've taken; she deserves to take care of herself just as much as you do.
If she cares, why does she never check in? Ask how your day has gone? Message you for a reason other than to ask for some piece of information? Spend literally any time with you without you explicitly requesting it? Why does she act like your continued existence is an inconvenience?
You're upset that things aren't the way they used to be. You miss the ease and the companionship; you miss having a confidant. You're frustrated because you want to fix everything and make everything right again somehow, but you can't. You find the idea of just accepting that there will never be a return to the halcyon days repugnant, and you're fighting against that.
That isn't true! There has to be something that you can do to improve things, there just has to be. You just haven't tried hard enough yet. You haven't done enough. There has to be something. There has to be some way to prove your continued worth and value. You just haven't found it yet. Not yet isn't never. There has to be some way to prove that you're worthy of being cared about.
Things are out of your hands, as hard as that is. You know how your mind works; one person at the top of the hierarchy that you're most closely attached to and to whom you're most sensitive to signs of rejection; increasing numbers on successive lower levels with less attachment and less investment. You feel rejected, you remember what happened in 2010, you're afraid beyond what words can convey. Your reflex is to cling harder to what seems to be slipping away, but in your heart you understand that that reflex is counterproductive...At the same time, as much as you're trying to substitute by strengthening other bonds - with Curly, with Marisa, with Breanna, with Jake - you know full well that there isn't a true replacement. You need to accept it.
How long will it be before she outright tells you that you have no place in her life moving forward? You know it's coming, like a chill in the air. You just know it. It happened in 2010; it'll happen again in 2018. You'd be better off making a KCN capsule and leaving this world before she has the chance to wound you like that; it'd kill you anyhow, so why not die on your own terms?
You know quite well that committing suicide helps absolutely no one. It doesn't help you, because it eliminates any possibility of things getting better. It doesn't help the people around you, because even if you can't see it sometimes, they like having you around. Even though you have your struggles, you can be an absolute joy to be around; you have to remember that you are you, not your depression.
What does it matter that you have an identity separate from your depression when your depression impacts everything about you? You should give up. You know the numbers. The odds that you'll ever beat this are astronomically low. Everything is against you - family history, development of symptoms before 21, no significant improvement after two different antidepressants with completely different mechanisms of action. You have no future. There is nothing for you. You know this. You're a failure. 500mg is all it would take. No one would notice because no one cares. If you dosed yourself on a Saturday morning, no one would check on you until Sunday afternoon. Plenty of time to be gone. It would be better for everyone around.
Take a breath; never forget that you've survived 100% of your worst days so far. You can weather this, with your favored support or without her. Remember your ink. Your mantra is written into your skin, a permanent reminder: still here.
I know that a lot of people talk to themselves more or less continuously in their minds, but I wonder how many have to endure a constant internal war between two mutually exclusive perspectives. A constant war where you have no idea which side is real, or if either side is real, or if anything that goes on can be trusted in any capacity. It's a miracle that I'm able to function at all when I can't trust any thought that crosses my mind.
She doesn't give a shit about you, and she probably never has. Probably wants you gone, out of her space, out of her life.
She does care, she just needs space. You know exactly the toll you've taken; she deserves to take care of herself just as much as you do.
If she cares, why does she never check in? Ask how your day has gone? Message you for a reason other than to ask for some piece of information? Spend literally any time with you without you explicitly requesting it? Why does she act like your continued existence is an inconvenience?
You're upset that things aren't the way they used to be. You miss the ease and the companionship; you miss having a confidant. You're frustrated because you want to fix everything and make everything right again somehow, but you can't. You find the idea of just accepting that there will never be a return to the halcyon days repugnant, and you're fighting against that.
That isn't true! There has to be something that you can do to improve things, there just has to be. You just haven't tried hard enough yet. You haven't done enough. There has to be something. There has to be some way to prove your continued worth and value. You just haven't found it yet. Not yet isn't never. There has to be some way to prove that you're worthy of being cared about.
Things are out of your hands, as hard as that is. You know how your mind works; one person at the top of the hierarchy that you're most closely attached to and to whom you're most sensitive to signs of rejection; increasing numbers on successive lower levels with less attachment and less investment. You feel rejected, you remember what happened in 2010, you're afraid beyond what words can convey. Your reflex is to cling harder to what seems to be slipping away, but in your heart you understand that that reflex is counterproductive...At the same time, as much as you're trying to substitute by strengthening other bonds - with Curly, with Marisa, with Breanna, with Jake - you know full well that there isn't a true replacement. You need to accept it.
How long will it be before she outright tells you that you have no place in her life moving forward? You know it's coming, like a chill in the air. You just know it. It happened in 2010; it'll happen again in 2018. You'd be better off making a KCN capsule and leaving this world before she has the chance to wound you like that; it'd kill you anyhow, so why not die on your own terms?
You know quite well that committing suicide helps absolutely no one. It doesn't help you, because it eliminates any possibility of things getting better. It doesn't help the people around you, because even if you can't see it sometimes, they like having you around. Even though you have your struggles, you can be an absolute joy to be around; you have to remember that you are you, not your depression.
What does it matter that you have an identity separate from your depression when your depression impacts everything about you? You should give up. You know the numbers. The odds that you'll ever beat this are astronomically low. Everything is against you - family history, development of symptoms before 21, no significant improvement after two different antidepressants with completely different mechanisms of action. You have no future. There is nothing for you. You know this. You're a failure. 500mg is all it would take. No one would notice because no one cares. If you dosed yourself on a Saturday morning, no one would check on you until Sunday afternoon. Plenty of time to be gone. It would be better for everyone around.
Take a breath; never forget that you've survived 100% of your worst days so far. You can weather this, with your favored support or without her. Remember your ink. Your mantra is written into your skin, a permanent reminder: still here.
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