Another day, another sinking ship.


What is your life like? What is it like to be happy and to enjoy being alive? What is it like to wake up in the morning and spend a full day with a quiet mind, not thinking ONCE about suicide before your head hits the pillow at night?

I really have no idea. This is just normal. It’s painful and it’s chaotic and noisy and it’s scary. But it is completely normal.

I get up in the morning for work, I step in the shower and think about blood from my wrists circling the drain. I wonder what the rest of the world will look like and feel like without me in it. People say good morning, how are you? I smile, and people comment on how great I look, how much better I seem. “I’m good!” I say. I guess I am. I woke up. I’m doing the important things that must get done. Well, some of them. But I’m not good. My insides are twisting, and it physically hurts. I have a difficult time focusing on anything at all because my thoughts never turn off. Thoughts scream in my ears and never, ever leave me alone. I continue along, talking to who I have to talk to, working hard, at a store conversing with the clerk, listening in important meetings. You see me there but I’m not there. Sometimes the voices are just too much, and I leave. My mind, it just leaves. I don’t feel like I’m in my body, or my mind. I’m nowhere. I know things are really bad again when I am dissociating a lot. But sometimes it’s all I can really do to stay alive. At least, I think so. It’s not intentional. It’s entirely an automatic, physiological response to this chaos and pain. My mind’s way of protecting me I suppose. Which seems rather kind considering it just wants to kill me the rest of the time.

On my drive to work, I think about suicide. Every minute that I am walking and talking and trying to use life to distract, suicide. Have to get groceries, put gas in the car, reply to txt messages, make phone calls, admit to my parents that I still don’t take care of myself as I should and that I constantly fuck up the simplest of responsibilities…. SUICIDE. How to die. When to die. Where to die. The truly soothing, peaceful feelings that radiate from my chest, into my belly, through my limbs and outwards when I think about being dead. Something about it helps keep me from breaking down on the outside the way I am constantly on the inside. I get in my bed at night and every night feels like a miracle that I made it that far again. But I’m neither happy nor sad about it. It just is. And I just am.


2 thoughts on “Another day, another sinking ship.”

  1. Yep, this pretty much is what’s inside my head too. I go on out of habit or inertia. I dream about having a different life, but I know the depression will come along with me. It just is. Sucks!


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