Man, time flies

Been over a year since I started posting on this site.

There are many posts on this very site that are on a private page. There are a chain of events any public user can go through to view these posts. These posts semi-privately documented the progression of my issues within the past few years.

And I’m still not even an ounce better. I’m still dealing with medication, I’ve done the lifestyle changes I could, which weren’t a small feat. I hate every medical call after call for my physical cardiac and physiological issues and the mental hell on top of it doesn’t make it better.

If I have to force myself to the point where living is going to have to be unenjoyable in the first place… then what’s the point.

What is the actual benefit.

Because hey. I didn’t go through with it last year, no matter how much I wanted to. The thought of being disposed of still permeates my mind before I even open my eyes in the morning, but I’m still here.

I’ve progressed to the point where I can recognise and categorise the reasons I cannot interact with society on any sustained level, but I’m still here.

It’s more or less destroyed my appearance in public. Which in turn… makes me hate appearing in public, as it is now an embarrassment, since I feel as if I’ve lost control of myself and am mentally detached from the outside. I have normalised self-harmful jokes and gestures as part of my every day life and have uncontrollable panic attacks. Coworkers distance themselves as a result, a few disgustedly telling me to get help in response. And despite the “”help”” (I’ve been making phone calls for new counseling as recently as yesterday), nothing has changed. And there are no happy endings no matter which path I take, through the most objective judgement possible. If I avoid hurting myself, it will come at the expense of others.

It’s like an unescapable black hole.

Fighting to change the world so that people actually find life worth living is cool and all, but good luck getting me to stay motivated for a lifetime doing so when there’s always another shackle added to the permanent ones that have existed before. It’s not fulfilling. This isn’t a game where it’s self-contained and a minor setback only matters in the screen’s universe.
Knowing daily that while the past is in the past, it will never stop being my history and will always appear painstakingly when I least expect it to.
Who said that I have to change the world? Absolutely no one.
The world is not out to get me. It doesn’t make it any less difficult to navigate due to societal norms. Maintaining a façade of sanity is no different than mimicking an movie character in public. It’s false, seemingly exaggerated, and tiring.

I’ve not been in school in three years due to having suicidal urges after nearly every class, both due to forced social interaction and my own incompetence. Some of my friends have already graduated.

But, you know. I’m still here.

Like they said, it gets better just because my brain just hopes it does. Who knows, maybe these platitudes actually do help some people.

Can’t even talk about this without dragging others down in my sorrows. I don’t want to die alone, but I can’t just ask someone to witness me while I leave. Potential legal liability for them and trauma on top of it.

Can’t stay silent and act against my ideals just so the persons immediately in front of me don’t interpret my actions as a negative.

I hate how for every few new friend I’ve tried to make, they’ve individually been exposed to and pointed out my “oddities”. Even though we’ve gotten along before, it’s “better if I just stay in the screen”.

Another reason to be cast aside and disposed of.

It directly makes me happy to know that people won’t have to be dragged down by my problems anymore, just like it directly makes me happy that I know when other people are enjoying my company.
I knew that if I didn’t get better, I’d end up hating the world more intensely each passing day. I never wanted that to happen. I’d feel sorry for myself, but you can ask my own mother if I’m capable of feeling that emotion in the first place.

Just take care not to speak for me in any circumstance. There has been little to no correlation between my desires and my actions as of the past few years. I don’t even want a funeral.

I don’t want a funeral. I want to be forgotten. And I want to eventually be able to forget about myself, too.

おやすみ。
I’m hoping to sleep forever.

For record’s sake, the death date is January 13th, 2022.

• > I’ve progressed to the point where I can recognise and categorise the reasons I cannot interact with society on any sustained level, but I’m still here.
  After reducing my work schedule to two days a week (and, unlike last year, moving to a department with less sustained interaction) it’s still a suffocatingly difficult task to manage. I do it, but not without having obvious problems or visually appearing estranged.

  Still “here”. Or so they say.

  I can’t do it anymore.