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FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK my best friend is coming over and telling my mom i’m depressed and suicidal my life is falling apart
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there’s this voice screaming at me inside my head all the time to kill myself. it keeps telling me that i have to die. that nothing is worth it and this is the only option and to stick to the plan. and that if i reach out for help i am doing the wrong thing or breaking the law of my mind.
every moment my mind is besieged and at war with my brain telling me i have to do this and wondering whether or not i can finally end it all. i feel like i’m going insane.
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i hardly ever say what’s wrong. and i never ask for help. for years and years.
i need someone to help me no matter what i do or say. i need someone to not believe me when i say “i’m fine.” i need someone to ask me what’s wrong, then ask again what’s really wrong when i say “nothing.” i need someone to force help on me even when i constantly lie and push them away.
i feel like i’m screaming and screaming but can’t say a word and i wish someone would just give me an intervention. i need someone to take away all this pressure of asking for help when i clearly can’t.
but instead no one acts. they leave me be when i push them away and wait for me to be the one to ask for help.
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i think i’m actually going insane
i feel like i’m trapped in a room rapidly filling up with water and i’m panicking at the inevitable drowning. i’m treading water, violently flailing, inwardly screaming and thrashing but i’m sinking anyway.
i’m at the end of my wire. but i can’t live and i can’t die. but i can’t do this anymore.
i need to do it. the thought is terrifying, but the thought of living on for years in this misery is terrifying too and something as incomprehensible and awful as dying.
but what’s really worse? the terror of killing yourself which is quick and finite, or the terror of living this life for years with all this pain and toil?
i’m shaking again and my hands are typing too fast and my mind is starting to float away.
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other-worldly
I feel like i don’t belong in this world. i want to live in a daydream. i comprehend living until i’m thirty, fifty, eighty in the drudgery of every day life. i can’t imagine my years spent grocery shopping, doing taxes, going to an office… i want to float off into the haze of an artistic realm.
was i not meant to live on this earth?
but what would happen if all other-worldly people left this earth? would there be no art, no poetry, no space for creation and ideas to exist?
but how do you cope with not fitting anywhere? i go along and i meet people, but never anyone with the same feeling in their “soul.” what if i stay on this earth- am i meant to walk alone drowning in my unshared passions?
i don’t understand how to exist in this world. how do people walk around, live, and exist knowing that it’s all so mundane. i feel so trapped here. and trapped by my depression which never allows me to even come close to fulfilling any artistic fantasies.
i would want to make creations of epic greatness but thinking of the magnitude of it all overwhelms me to the point of internal catatonia. what i want is so high up above and i am so far below.
sometimes i think i’m a genius and the thoughts i write in my diary are poetic and meant for the ages, yet at the same time i know i’m so lowly and worthless.
and i can’t stop these racing anxious thoughts it’s never ceasing in my head, driving me insane and leaving me battered and bruised. my mind is in a whirlwind and i can’t slow down while my body is paralyzed and i feel trapped.
once again this is making my mind feel really super fucking high. floaty, trembling, dreamlike and my body feels like it’s starting to shake.
