Even when I’m happy it’s there, the fear, writhing in the back of my head, telling me it won’t last, I don’t deserve it, I wasn’t made to be happy. That any minute the great bruising wave of sadness will crash right back down on me.

And so I wait for the world to end.

I want it to end softly and abruptly like a soap-bubble bursting. Or mundanely, with everyone going to sleep as usual and just not waking up. I lie there and quietly count and tell myself when I get to twenty the world will end, and even feel slightly surprised when it doesn’t.

I used to want to kill myself, but what would that solve? Sorrow, like energy, cannot be created or destroyed. Just moved around. If I died it would just leave the people I love to deal with the weight of grief. If the world would just end, everyone could stop being in pain or afraid.

My egocentricity astounds me sometimes.:smile:

I thought to write this earlier this week. My new job was going well. My four days of training was curtailed when the manager ran out of things to teach me after a day and a half. I was left to play with a few small design jobs of my very own. I felt cautiously confident.

I also felt frightened to the soles of my shoes waiting for it to go wrong.

A string of small incidents bruised my confidence today. they are things which should not matter, but do. Things that make me feel stupid, gullible, freakish and unvalued. But because they should not matter, I am not allowed to hurt. So I’m sitting here crying and thinking about the bottle of codeine downstairs and knowing it’s not even a real thought.

I’m just going to stop now, before I make a fool of myself…