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Breathe in or Breathe out    

I’m getting too old for any games life throws my way. Too tired mentally. I’ve not bothered to truly tell anyone my actual thoughts, it will stay that way, though people probably see me as easy to read. I’m not.

I have a question that no one can or will be able to answer, with a further follow-up question. I have to live with that, and I know others question it as well. I obsessively think about whether there is strength left in my mind. I know I’ve a very high amount of courage; not having both together on a high level does not bode well. Nothing reminds me anymore of anything that should be important. Objects are just that, objects. No admiration of colors.

And I thought, the older you get, the wiser and a possible better frame of mentality. What started as a healthy direction to weight-loss has warped into an eating disorder my doctors have not specified the type. I don’t cut pretty much at all anymore. Some people in this world have no idea just how fortunate they are. There are good points in my depression, but the deeper it gets the less creativity I have, and staring out a window in bed is all I can do. For hours. Sometimes not a thought in my head, just pain I can almost physically feel. It’s a literal heaviness in the chest and weights pulling you down.

I am crying more now. I went for a few years hardening myself to never even feel the urge to cry. I had to. I have a life of independence in a place where I know no one, and to protect my child. She’s a woman now but needs my direction. I spent this afternoon sobbing and probably could have all day but I just stopped myself. I feel I still could cry. It relieves mental pressure but only if I can stop. The older I get, the worse the sadness, pain, and fear of myself. The longer and harder sobbing moments start to become endless.

My mind is pulled into so many directions and thoughts are distorted. Life doesn’t make sense, even on my knees in prayer. My mind becomes a runaway train derailing with thought and thought about the ways I could finish this madness. I know two very easily accessible ways but I need answers, so I wait. Being the impulsive person that I am, I don’t always wait. I just do something in any way possible to shut my brain off.

I want to scream all these methods and reasons why and everything I can to the whole world, but what would that point be? I don’t think I want to stop it all. I’m feeding off the madness until self destruction. It’s what I want. God is the only one who knows what’s in my head and why I need to do the things I need to.

The sand in my hour glass is extremely low. How much longer do I wait? Everyone says, you’ll get through this and then feel better for awhile. What they don’t know is that never happens anymore. It’s there like a limb on my body. It’s the shadow that wouldn’t leave even in pure darkness. So when do I give up? Is now the time? I’m not worried about anything at the moment other than my unanswered question.

No one in my life would ever understand my thoughts and feelings. It’s a burden I will bear until I no longer breathe. I’m no longer sharing a solitary thought on this to real life people. At least I can say I want to die, and not have anyone ask a million follow-up questions.

I’ll know the answer to my 2 questions no living being can fully answer at a point.

A reminder that there’s nothing glamorous about suicide, or death itself. At least openly. The side of the suicide, it means an end to a painful endless hurt; sometimes to a hurt that you can’t remember where or what caused it. The pain inside, the pain outside, a cease to it. No more living half alive, hidden from the world. If you know this pain then you know. You know the strength it has, you can use that courage in either direction.

The choice is ours. I know the direction I will take but I put no deadline to it. There is almost nothing fixable in my life but I know nothing is fixable in my head. I have mental illness and it will never be “fixed”. I’d rather deal with only the chronic pain I have as bad as it gets, than dealing with both. My brain eats itself away. The choice is mine, to end each pain.

What’s your choice?



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