I'm Getting Tired Of My Own Self Destructive Tendencies

Margaret Atwood, from The Door: Poems; “Europe on 5$ a day”

[Text ID: “I’ve cut myself off. / I can feel the place / where I used to be attached. / It’s raw, as when you grate / your finger. It’s a shredded mess / of images. It hurts.”]

A niche ecosystem

[ID: Green-toned Magnus Archives fanart of Jon Sims. He's floating against a green gradient, curled up and covering his face but looking out warily with an uncovered eye. The background features art of a whale in different stages of decomposition: first alive at the top, with lines emanating from it; then dead and placed behind him; next rotting below him; and finally a skeleton at the bottom. Cursive text faintly says "whalefall" behind Jon.

The second piece is the same, but pale outlines show hands with a fork and knife positioned over Jon. End ID]

(Thankyou @/princess-of-purple-prose for the ID sm,,, augh)

You know what people don’t talk about often enough? Playing catch up in life after spending your teens or early 20s suicidally depressed. There’s so many more layers than just being able to say “I don’t want to die anymore.”

The difficulty in academia or a career after spending years thinking you wouldn’t be alive long enough for any of it to matter.

The exhaustion that comes from self awareness and self soothing, with the constant voice in your head saying “don’t go backwards.”

How lonely it is to watch the people your age starting families when you’re just barely learning what stable relationships are, and the sudden societal pressure of being “up against a clock” for these kinds of things.

The judgement from others if you change your image or interests this late in the game just because you finally figured out who you really are under the demons.

Be kind to those who are developing and blooming after years of not planning on being here long. We are living a life we absolutely didn’t think we’d have, and it’s hard enough without society reminding us there’s expectations of our age.

We didn’t get to be young; we were too busy fighting battles few know.

-

“The blood flowed freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart, which nothing could remove.”

— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

I’ve had a rough day today. Pretty much everything that could go wrong has. I’m both severely depressed and manic and it’s fluctuating rapidly. People are getting fed up with me and I am trying so fucking hard to be positive and put back positive energy into the world. I know you can’t please everyone but I still want to so badly and I don’t know how to turn it off. I am at the end of my fucking rope. Everyone I know keeps trying to hospitalize me. Not sure exactly what they think that will solve. Like they’d keep me from killing myself but then what??? Change my meds? What has that ever helped? Current events are eviscerating me. My classes just pile up the work and like some mindless good little cog in the machine I do it all and like beg for approval? From people I barely respect too. It makes me sick the whole thing. Everything. How is anyone supposed to thrive under these conditions? Especially as a severely mentally Ill person? And I know I have privileges in some ways that people dream of and work their whole lives to have and what do I do with them? Nothing. Complain. Write vent posts on a stupid fucking blog that no one even reads.

I don’t believe in God, haven’t since I was like 12, but there is a part of me that wishes he/she/they is real so I could hold them accountable for all the suffering they have either directly caused or let happen. Like there could finally be someone to blame and shake by the shoulders and scream every grievance I have. But I don’t believe that. I don’t think I ever will. If God has a body it is a bolt of lightning that strikes me down for being the sinner that I always thought I was in one fell swoop, instantly fried. No pain, just punishment. Divine judgement? Wrath? I wouldn’t care. I’d just be at peace. Then things would at least make sense!

I hope there’s no such thing as heaven or hell or whatever the fuck Jews believe the world will be like when the messiah comes. I hope there is no divine resurrection of my soul. I pray for quiet and for nothingness. If God were to choose to answer just one prayer I’ve ever uttered it would be for me to experience silence. But the universe is big and empty and silent itself I am a speck of dust. Maybe there is comfort in there somewhere, but I don’t feel it. I’ve never felt it.

Sorry if this made no sense but I’m manic again and this is the most I’ve written in days. I hope that some day soon something good happens like I fall in love or complete a creative project I’ve been working on for ages, but for now I can barely get the fuck out of my bed. Somewhere deep inside of me is a meadow full of flowers. I hope I find it soon. I am getting lost among everything else.

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