I lost track of time again. I could’ve sworn today was Friday. I don’t know what’s happening anymore and it’s kind of breaking my heart.

There’s this idea that I have running in my head all the time and it’s my own voice yelling at me to stop wallowing in my bad feelings. And I truly don’t know what to do about that. I can’t tell the difference between feeling my feelings, sitting with them, and throwing a pity party. Maybe the difference is the amount of time? But how do you control it if you have chronic illnesses? I can’t say to myself, “OK I am depressed,” and sit with it for some time and then move through it because I wake up the next day and it’s the same. And the next day and the next and the next and the next.

I suck at tracking the time so I don’t know for sure but I think this is week four, so a month, that I haven’t had a good day again. This happens from time to time but it doesn’t get easier.

I’ve been trying with all my might to avoid suicidal ideation. That’s where my mind tends to wander, it’s almost like a coping mechanism. I imagine hurting myself or ending my life over and over, chasing some sort of relief from the shit that I’m currently feeling. But I know that it’s neither healthy or helpful. But I don’t really have any other coping mechanisms. And I want to hurt myself. I won’t, I’m too much of a coward for that, but the desire is so visceral sometimes it makes me sick. I get clammy, I can’t breathe. It feels like I need to harm myself in some way or another.

But maybe leaving myself to rot is a form of self harm. There’s so many ways to hurt yourself that just aren’t as obvious. Not eating food, not drinking, not going to the bathroom, not waking up, not going to sleep, not changing your clothes, not brushing your teeth, not asking for help, have an ever going internal monologue that assures you you’re absolutely nothing.

I just feel like crying so I think that’s what I’ll do.

I’ve done absolutely nothing this week and the guilt is eating me alive. I’m not doing any of the things I’m supposed to be doing but I can’t bring myself to and I hate it so much and I hate myself for it too. And I tell myself that I just couldn’t and that I shouldn’t be so hard to myself. That mental illness is an illness and that sick people sometimes can’t operate on the same level as others. But it feels like an excuse and I feel like trash and I feel useless and I’m so deeply ashamed. Everyone else in my home works so hard and they do things all day I can’t even stay awake. I slept most of the day away today and yesterday.

I think I need medication again but I can’t bear the thought of going to another psychiatrist. I’m so tired. I hate saying the same thing over and over again and the burden never getting any lighter. They won’t listen to me like I need them to, and when they do want to listen I find that I don’t know how to speak or ask for the help I actually need. I feel so hopeless. There’s no doubt in my mind that the life I lead isn’t worth living. And I feel awful saying that too because I know that compared to other people I have it so good but that doesn’t help. I guess I could be homeless, I guess I could be starving, I guess I could live with people that abused me. But I have a home and I have food and I am tolerated by those around me. But then why do I feel so badly all the time?

There’s this weight on my chest that won’t leave no matter what I do. And I’m just so exhausted. So thoroughly exhausted by all of it. I want to stop crying. I want to stop coming here and spilling my guts out on the internet because I have no one else to turn to. I want a life.

But that means I have to make it for myself. I have to find a way to push through and make a life for myself. But how the fuck do I do that when I can’t keep my eyes open?? I just want to scream. I want to be dead. If I can’t fix my life I might as well be dead.

I know that I wasn’t made for this world. I just can’t be, not when the things that are easy for everyone else feel so heavy for me. Something is messed up inside and it’s ruining everything. Something is wrong with my brain.

God I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t do it anymore. But I have to because unfortunately you don’t just drop dead once you decide you’re done being alive. You have to kill yourself if you want to go. Evidently I’m not much for action, if I was I wouldn’t be so sad in the first place. Being too tired to kill yourself is actually kind of funny. But only in a far away manner.

I’ve been disassociating a lot more lately. I’m just too tired to stay inside my own body. It’s too heavy and I can’t carry it all the time. And my mind. I think that’s why I’m losing so many days.

God, I wish I was dead.