Same old
Tomorrow begins the four day festival Sweden Rock, with about 22 000 rock fans gathering to camp out and listen to great concerts. Four days of nothing but beers, friends and rock music. And I’m doing everything I can to keep from crying. The pressure over my chest is so thick it’s almost tangible. I try to focus on my breathing, slowly in and slowly out, because I know that if I let my attention off for even a second I’m going to break down and I don’t know if I can get up again. It’s been a few weeks since it was last like this. Mostly anxieties come and go and I’m so used to them that I barely notice, but on these horrid occasions nothing helps. Well, nothing beside overdosing on Theralen or cutting my arms again but that’s not supposed to be an option for me anymore.
I’m very glad this is my blog, so no one can tell me to stop whining because I need to vent like never before. It hurts so much, I think I’m going to break. It’s hard to explain. Imagine I’m a huge vase with a tiny tiny crack in it. Or that I’m a huge shapeless mass of matter that should never have been, that was a mistake and an unforgivable one at that. That’s why my mother treated me the way she did; she’s never been able to forgive me for being born. Ah, a moment of clarity. Certainly not welcome at this point when nothing matters.
I wish I was alone, oh wait, I am alone! I am an abomination. I wish I could explain to you how truly and profoundly rotten I am, how every hope of love for someone like me is so pathetically funny you can’t even laugh, you just wheeze, and how nothing will ever change.
I don’t want things to change, I don’t want to make an effort and then fail. I want to go back home and stop taking my medications, stop opening my mail, stop showing up for work, answering texts or phone calls, coming online, showering, eating, and eventually breathing. I have no strong will to live.
I’m very glad this is my blog, so no one can tell me to stop whining because I need to vent like never before. It hurts so much, I think I’m going to break. It’s hard to explain. Imagine I’m a huge vase with a tiny tiny crack in it. Or that I’m a huge shapeless mass of matter that should never have been, that was a mistake and an unforgivable one at that. That’s why my mother treated me the way she did; she’s never been able to forgive me for being born. Ah, a moment of clarity. Certainly not welcome at this point when nothing matters.
I wish I was alone, oh wait, I am alone! I am an abomination. I wish I could explain to you how truly and profoundly rotten I am, how every hope of love for someone like me is so pathetically funny you can’t even laugh, you just wheeze, and how nothing will ever change.
I don’t want things to change, I don’t want to make an effort and then fail. I want to go back home and stop taking my medications, stop opening my mail, stop showing up for work, answering texts or phone calls, coming online, showering, eating, and eventually breathing. I have no strong will to live.
Posted by
at
21:41:23
TLK writes:
i feel like that sometimes, actually i didnt have a will to live ever i think. it just happens, my life continues… but suicide is out of option for me.
well i dont think any mother would be regretful for her children, its just about being irresponsible…
though i’m loved by my family, relatives, friends etc. i feel alone because i still dont have that special person… so i’m alone in crowd…