I don't want to do this anymore. I am tired of living a life on loop. Wake up, work, use all my energy to withstand the abuse, come home, sleep, and do it all again. I left my job that paid me just barely enough to survive and moved back in with my parents to start another job that was work from home and then I quit that job because I hated working from home but now I have no job and live with the people who made me want to die as a teenager.
I did it to myself.
It's my own fault because I gave up on myself as I always have.
I can sit here and say that it's because of my circumstances , but I was always very fortunate. Even now, as they struggle to make ends meet, my parents let me stay with them without asking anything in return.
I miss my old job. I wish I hadn't left but they dissolved our department so I can't go back.
And now, here I am, writing on a blog because my journal isn't enough. Because the pages are just as empty as I am.
I miss the days when I was happy. I know that they existed, I remember when they did. I remember waking up excited for what was to come. When I didn't live with my parents anymore and I had the money and means to travel.
It's my own fault. It got hard and I gave up, like I always do.
Like I want to do now.
I think about it so much, the very idea feels like an old friend. I remember the first time I thought about it I was seven years old. It's almost been twenty years of this. Twenty years of having it in my back pocket. The option to end it all.
Not once have I even tried. Not seriously. I've let things happen to see how far they would go, I've provided the temptation, but still, it has not come to that point.
But it has always felt inevitable. Death itself cannot be prevented, only postponed. I wish I were brave enough to hasten it. Everyone says it is the coward's way out but it does not feel cowardly. It feels terrifying. Even when I long for death it scares me. Because in truth I don't want to die, I just want to be better. I want to sit in the sun and feel it warm my skin while I spend time with friends.
I want friends who want to spend time with me. Friends who see something in me worth staying for. Who think that what I have to say is funny or interesting or even stupid but worth commenting on so we can have a conversation. But my primary personality trait is my own self inflicted suffering which I cannot subject anyone else to and so I don't.
How else am I supposed to see myself? My father was always away from home, my mother laid up in bed, just as depressed as I am now. Maybe worse because she had two kids to raise, a husband whose job kept him away for years at a time, and cancer. She didn't have any friends either. And her family lived eight hours away so they weren't there for her.
And now I am my mother's daughter but worse. Everyone I talk to hears I live with my parents and say that they or their kids were out by now. Living on their own or with friends, but we moved so much that all my friends are on the other side of the world. The closest one is sixteen hours away.
I hate them for it. It isn't fair because its not their fault but I hate my friends for being so far. Just like my dad was. Just like my mom when she had the energy to do so.
I remember being eight years old and left in a house with my brother, only ten at the time, and my mother was god knows where. She traveled when she had the energy. But she did not bring us with her. We had school and our absence was a red flag we were not allowed to raise.
Maybe I was always meant to be miserable. Maybe it's all I know so it's all I trust. But maybe that's just me blaming anyone but myself again.
I don't think I deserve this because to claim that anyone deserves anything would be to assign morality to circumstances beyond anyone's control and I don't think that's fair.
I don't believe in God. If he is real he is cruel. He cannot be all powerful, all knowing, and all loving because the human experience is composed of helplessness, foolishness, and hatred. If God is real then that means that my life is like this on purpose. It means that little children are killed and assaulted on purpose. That we are placed under the thumb of evil on purpose. That these urges to harm and destroy and wither away are by design. It is far more merciful to think it is completely beyond our control.
My own actions are not beyond my control, of course, but they feel like it sometimes. Or maybe my inaction. I lay in bed and think about the life I wanted as a child. I wanted to be a scientist or an anthropologist or a vet or explorer.
Then I was told I needed something more realistic and I realized that I was never going to be anything greater than what I was.
And now I'm an adult who is responsible for myself and I don't want it. I don't want this life. I don't want parents who house me and feed me because they too think I can't do anything more than lay here and suffer my own existence.
I don't want to work every day just to prove that I deserve to be here. I don't want to eat every day to give my body the energy it needs to prolong my suffering. I don't want to get out of bed anymore. But the stagnation is just as miserable. I can feel my heart rotting.
So I can push myself forward, I can fight and try to be better, or I can lay here and rot and still somehow end up miserable either way.
Am I broken beyond repair? Is this all my life will be? Brief moments of happiness like the carrot on a string, coaxing me forward? What point is there? My absence would be a relief to everyone around me.
I'm supposed to be finding simple joys but everything comes with guilt. I know I have to start with a job but I don't want a job. I want a purpose. I want to feel like what I am doing with my time is making some kind of difference in the world. Maybe I want to be a cog in a machine that helps it run if it means making life better for others, but this machine does not help people, it eats them. It grinds them down and wears them out and dangles that stick with healthcare and housing and groceries on the end of the string. I'm too slow. I'm too tired.
There was a time in my life that was better than this and a time in my life that was worse so I know that I can survive it but I don't really want to if it means it's going to keep happening.
Does it get better? Because right now, I'm back where I was twenty years ago but lonelier.
vaporwave
prguitarman
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
jimmyeatworldofficial
blakekathryn
