Sometimes when you’re sick you wake up and you wish you were dead. It’s the first thing that happens. A pit of regret in your stomach, you’ve woken up again and there’s no going back.

I cleaned the kitchen and did some laundry. I binged a new show for hours. I scrolled through social media till I hated it all. I was afraid to face my family.

But then I took a breath, ran to my room. I pulled out my journal and wrote it all out. The way I was scared, the way it didn’t make sense. And slowly, gently, I coaxed myself to let go of the fear. It was good, I did it. I was with my family, not for long but something is better than nothing.

A blanket of sadness fell over me last night. Sometimes when I am sad my mind slips from me and imagines sad things. Maybe it’s so I have a reason to cry. In a state of sleep depravation I imagined I had a son and then he died. My heart was squeezing tight with the pain. I couldn’t stop the tears. I saw it all so clearly. I had to look around at my room, had to remember that none of it was real.

I’m not sure where the sadness is really coming from. Sometimes it’s just like that. My friend sent me a picture of some flowers he bought his girlfriend and they were so pretty. I look at the fake ones I bought myself which sit on the corner of my desk. Something about it hurts.

I imagine I’m lonely, that’s what I always think. Where my thoughts always lead me. If that’s where I always end up then it must be true.

In my new job I have met many people. More than I have for years, and several are chatty and nice. But as more time passes I’m confronted with a feeling I used to know well in my youth. A deep irritation caused by apathy. I know these people, vaguely, but they’re not the type of people I want to know.

Which begs the question, who do I want to know?

Common interests aren’t the all mighty link some people think. I don’t need someone to be just like me to be interested in who they are. I’m really not sure. Maybe I just want something more genuine. An understanding that goes deeper than casual chatting.

Tomorrow bright and early I’ll go to work again. I’m slowly learning the ropes, maybe too slow. I hope my shift is with people I can actually talk with.

Earlier today I looked out of the window and I imagined what it might be like if I killed myself. I don’t do that too often these days. It was a coping mechanism from my younger days. But I stopped it because it’s not really helpful, it only provides momentary relief.

But I suppose I can see it so clearly, if there was somewhere I could actually do it. It’s in a future, maybe not so distant, where I live on my own. My place is small and hard. Empty save for random knick-knacks I find intriguing.

It’s not a particularly important day. The weather is mild, the orange tree outside my window has unripe oranges pulling the branches down to the grass. The sky is blue, clear of any clouds. There’s a sadness sitting in the crux of my ribs. A sadness because I know that there is much to miss about being alive. But not enough.

I know the way I envision it isn’t actually the most practical. Maybe it’s just because that’s how it’s typically depicted in the media. At least when the mood is very dramatic. But I see the glint of the blade in the sunlight. I feel the sting, the wave of nausea that comes with it. I see those scarlet pools, reflective and syrup thick.

I lie back on the rug where I’m sitting criss cross. I feel sick, I feel weak, my heart flutters in my chest like a butterfly who wet its wings and is fighting the inevitable crash. I would cry then, I know I would cry. I don’t despise life all in all. It’s just too much.

The puddles get bigger and bigger.

My mind gets smaller and smaller.

And then? Maybe something like sleep. Sleep and no dreams.

I like to close my eyes and pretend. But I’m not there yet.

I have work tomorrow. I have to do all the little things that make it feel like my life is slipping right through my fingers. If only there was a way to hold on. Or a way to let go. A way that didn’t hurt like this so often. Like I swallowed a boulder and it’s stuck halfway down.

I wish I could cry. But more than that I wish I didn’t need to.