SeafoamSkeleton
future ghost
- Jun 24, 2025
- 60
I'm losing insight on what I actually want. I kind of know through a haze of unreality that it's the disease trying to kill me, but I'm starting to believe and become the desire. It feels compulsive and intrusive. It's a contradiction that's fading. I want to die, but not hurt anyone. But I'm losing access to the part of me that cares, that loves, that feels anything but a pull to the void.
I've been here before. Where nothing matters. Where I lose my ability to feel my ties to this world. I know it's dangerous here and a tiny piece of me is still left whispering to beware. I know where this leads and my armies are better equipped than they were in any battle before.
For the last few months the only times I've felt any enjoyment is when I've thought of suicide. It's become a fixation. It's all I read about. Most of my trains of thought end in "well that might be an interesting method."
It's all I want to talk about, too, so I've withdrawn from my friends so they don't know how crazy I actually am. My partner keeps telling me I've put him off his dinner. I look at my dog and feel nothing, like he was just a plain piece of gravel on the road. I've lost access to the those warm feelings of connection and responsibility for my dog. But somehow I can still feel the grief caused by the crumbling of my connections to this world.
Everything is dead calm like there is no wind. Time creeps forward in a gray haze. I fought so hard, but I'm pretty sure I lost. Or did I win? I have become the disease and there's only one thing left to do.
I've been here before. Where nothing matters. Where I lose my ability to feel my ties to this world. I know it's dangerous here and a tiny piece of me is still left whispering to beware. I know where this leads and my armies are better equipped than they were in any battle before.
For the last few months the only times I've felt any enjoyment is when I've thought of suicide. It's become a fixation. It's all I read about. Most of my trains of thought end in "well that might be an interesting method."
It's all I want to talk about, too, so I've withdrawn from my friends so they don't know how crazy I actually am. My partner keeps telling me I've put him off his dinner. I look at my dog and feel nothing, like he was just a plain piece of gravel on the road. I've lost access to the those warm feelings of connection and responsibility for my dog. But somehow I can still feel the grief caused by the crumbling of my connections to this world.
Everything is dead calm like there is no wind. Time creeps forward in a gray haze. I fought so hard, but I'm pretty sure I lost. Or did I win? I have become the disease and there's only one thing left to do.
