As we approach the much-dreaded December, all I can think is that I want to keep living but don’t know how. How can I carry on living when I don’t feel alive? So I throw myself into life. I talk to friends I haven’t talked to in a while, I volunteer, I keep active. And I hurt myself in the process. I scald my hand with boiling water making coffee for the Club Kitchen, I feel every ache and pain and sprain after pushing myself too hard in training, I cry after going home from a night out because I miss that feeling of love, that feeling of freedom. I try to make myself feel human by making myself feel pain because that’s what being human is, right? The Human Experience is not a Pleasant One.
I want to survive, because I feel like I have something to give. I just don’t know what it is, just don’t know if I have the energy to go the distance in the first place. I feel messed around, and I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going, what I want in the first place. I just want to be someplace different, somewhere else. I’m sick of being here. I’m sick of being alive, but feeling lifeless.
No matter how many times I take my puffer, I still feel like a tonne of bricks is pressing against my chest, a tonne of bricks which I can’t escape, a tonne of bricks which stops me from being able to breath. And it’s not because the guy I was dating slept with someone else, or because my parents are part-time alcoholics, or because college is stressing me out. I feel lost, and I feel lonely, and I feel like I can’t control what happens next.
I feel sad. I feel shit. I feel like shooting out my brains
Because I WANT to feel alive. I just…
Don’t.
