In a John-Cusack-brooding-about-my-life-kind-of-way-without-actually-doing-anything-about-it: I know how I would do it. I have no plans to, for the most part I like living, but I know what I would choose.
I know it is cowardly to consider it, you can get over anything, blah blah blah. It has already been 5 months of internal turmoil – how long can I expect myself to do this for? I have asked for understanding, support and for my friends to reach out to me…but here I am. Miserable. Alone. Thinking maybe I have fucked up so many friendships it is no longer worth trying to piece them together again. When was the last time someone called to ask me how I was dealing with this? I know, I know precisely. Only one person has and I was a total douche to him. The others – not once. Not one time. What quality of friendships have I lacked to foster to not even provide me with that? To not help me stand and see the end of this. To not provide me with reminders of what was/is possible. To tell me how much fun they’re having, how they have figured out how meaningful life is. LIFE DOESN’T MEAN SHIIIIIIIIIIIT. FUCK. Get over it.
I keep thinking of ways that I could at least get a break from life, and NOT in a give-me-attention kind of way. Rehab…but it would take ages to get there. Car accident…but I do not want any lasting effects. Eating disorder…but puking makes me cry and I enjoy food. Maybe if I continue to speed excessively and a cop finally stops me and asks why I was going so fast I could finally admit, out loud, that I don’t care about my life so much. Probably I am a danger on the road. I fantasize about car accidents. Put me away for a while and give me something that will make me sleep, sweet dreamless sleeps.
Went to bed last night at 7:30 because I could not stop crying on and off. I did not want to be awake but I could not sleep for most of the night. Irony? Now I am out of bed and cannot wait to get back in it after work. But I will probably be alone. Alone to think, cry and wish I was anywhere, anything, anyone but who I am.
It seems the pills did do something but I will not go back on them because yesterday I called out for help. Someone grabbed my hand. But it was none of you. A stranger who will give me a break, in a non-judgmental setting. She will give me someone to talk to, someone to relate to. Possibly a lifeline. Something to glean hope from.
Now I will silently suffer through the day. Cry at my desk while trying hard not to. Counting down the minutes until one more day is gone and over with. Until I don’t have to “laugh” and be fake.
My boss told me he is pushing for my month time off in June/July to go to Europe..some new shit initiative about work/life balance. I don’t care about the trip anymore.
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