When my therapist asks me the cliched question how are you doing I don’t know what to tell her. I rarely feel just one emotion.
My comfort zone is hurting me and helping me dig a deeper hole. I hate crowds and basically people I don’t know. I’ll go out but not by myself…I often thought I was more independent than I really was. Without my parents…and other things, I wouldn’t last long out in reality by myself.
I want to find someone in my shoes that is further along in the road of recovery. To know if it’s a battle I can win. I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to my inner voice.
I feel if I force myself to go out in public, I’m hurting myself. How f*cked up is that?
I realize revelations never come at good times. To go back six years would be a blessing but that’s wishful thinking, something I stopped believing in a while ago.
When I was an innocent child, I saw adulthood as a fun thing. I guess I was really that naive. But then again, kids are. My childhood is something I miss but also something I’d change if I had the chance.
A few years ago when I had my suicide planned out, I had the courage, and I had a plan I could have gone through with it. I don’t care how illogical this sounds. I’m past caring. I’ve asked God for the will to end my life and when it didn’t come, I asked for the strength to fight. It hasn’t come. The only thing keeping me here is my own lack of guts. Sometimes I wish I was an atheist. At least then I may have the guts to end everything.
I don’t care how dark, illogical or cold hearted this sounds. I’m past careing. At least venting here keeps it away from those I love and those that matter to me.