Gotten out of bed. Had coffee. Felt okay for a while.
Then, after a couple of hours, everything went back to the horrible, black, tar-like feeling that gets in your mouth and nose and eyes and you feel it squeezing your body tighter and tighter as you sink down into the endless darkness. The pressure of the deep makes your lungs hurt and there is nothing but loneliness.
Hours go by and life feels more and more meaningless. A constant struggle against constant pain. Nothing matters. Time ceaces to function, you start hating other people for caring and for not caring. You hate yourself for hating others. You know it's all in your head but your head is where you keep your thoughts and it's full of tar now and in the tar there is small whispers telling you to just give up.
I want to scream but my new meds are kicking in and with them the apathy.
When I'm medicated life is less difficult. When I'm medicated the pain isn't as stabbing. When I'm medicated the feelings go away. All the feelings. Creativity and happiness and the connection to others. The feeling of hope. The feeling of motivation. The feeling of hunger. (I ate four sandwiches today. Two when I woke up at noon and two around midnight.) Everything but the pain and the longing for death.
I hate this, it's all wrong and fucked up.
I hate myself. I hate being alive. Nothing means anything and nothing is interesting and nothing matters.
I don't matter. But I can't kill myself. I live with a kid for heavens sake. It would be fucking horrible to do that to him. I can't stand the thought of him asking his parents about me and them having to explain somehow. What would they say? How can you even start trying to explain death and depression and suicide to a four year old? You don't, I guess, but I can't stand the thought of forcing them to lie to him either. I imagine being a kid and realizing something is so fucking wrong and not being able to understand what it is or what happened or if you did something wrong or why the grown ups are being so tense and weird.
So I can't kill myself. And moving out and trying to like, I don't know, not stay in touch for a year or so feels like a really complicated suicide plan filled with unknown elements. Not worth the hassle. Might as well just wait until I get old. One year or 50 both feel like too big periods of time for me to grasp and make sense of.
So yeah, I guess the point is that I really want to not have to be me but I can't really do anything else at the moment.
I have zero motivation. For anything. Being awake, getting out of bed, eating, breathing. I hate being alone. I want to not be alone, I want to have someone with me just to keep the worst pain away. Someone to hold my hand and give me a hug when I start crying for no reason. But there's not really anyone to ask. I can't really ask. Or I do, kind of, but I won't force myself on anyone, that's disrespectful.
I am very tired of everything. I think I'm also getting tired physically. Goodnight.