SchizoPolyGymnast
Elementalist
- May 28, 2024
- 810
If you've read my posts over the past year, you can ascertain that I am doing okay. And sometimes, that's the worst place to be.
Out of all the things I love to do, out of all the places I love to be, my bed is my absolute favorite. It's like being back in the womb. Warm and safe. No one is making demands of me. I can stare off into space, or into blackness, and see, feel, do, and BE nothing. If death is like this, what's not to like?
Having a good life can be a burden because you know that your good life you have spent so much blood, sweat and tears building can, and will, be snatched from you in an instant. I'm a gymnast now, but my heart condition can take that away from me without any warning.
My parents are alive and well, my relationship with them is thriving, and caring for them has been the joy of my life. But they're in their mid-70s. They'll die at some point, and I will be there at the very end. I will bury them, pay the funeral expenses, and grieve alone while I rebuild my life, again, alone...while my useless coward sister gets to cosplay as a grieving daughter from two states away, surrounded by her enablers.
I wish I could die before my parents. Yes, they would be devastated, but like I said, they're in their 70s. It won't be long before they follow me and we are together again. We can all go together into that good night. Granted, I COULD choose to ctb, but that would require me to forsake my role as caregiver and I can't bring myself to do that. It would be better if I could be shot in the head. A car accident didn't kill me. Pneumonia didn't kill me. What will?
Even something as simple as a project brings me grief. No matter how excited I am for a project, I can't ever enjoy it because I know I won't finish it. I always hit the wall where ideas run dry and my hands can't do shit. My ambitions always seem to be bigger than my actual skill and I don't know how to make them more congruent.
I've poured so much into people I thought would be lifelong friends, only to find out that I have been shafted in favor of a new man or cooler friends. And when you talk to most therapists about this, it's always, "Why don't you go out and meet people?" Bruh, I did that! I can't predict the future and I can't force people to prioritize me.
As usual, I walk this earth all by myself. Not because I want to. But because I don't know how to stop. If I stop, I'll feel it and that's the last thing I want to do.
Out of all the things I love to do, out of all the places I love to be, my bed is my absolute favorite. It's like being back in the womb. Warm and safe. No one is making demands of me. I can stare off into space, or into blackness, and see, feel, do, and BE nothing. If death is like this, what's not to like?
Having a good life can be a burden because you know that your good life you have spent so much blood, sweat and tears building can, and will, be snatched from you in an instant. I'm a gymnast now, but my heart condition can take that away from me without any warning.
My parents are alive and well, my relationship with them is thriving, and caring for them has been the joy of my life. But they're in their mid-70s. They'll die at some point, and I will be there at the very end. I will bury them, pay the funeral expenses, and grieve alone while I rebuild my life, again, alone...while my useless coward sister gets to cosplay as a grieving daughter from two states away, surrounded by her enablers.
I wish I could die before my parents. Yes, they would be devastated, but like I said, they're in their 70s. It won't be long before they follow me and we are together again. We can all go together into that good night. Granted, I COULD choose to ctb, but that would require me to forsake my role as caregiver and I can't bring myself to do that. It would be better if I could be shot in the head. A car accident didn't kill me. Pneumonia didn't kill me. What will?
Even something as simple as a project brings me grief. No matter how excited I am for a project, I can't ever enjoy it because I know I won't finish it. I always hit the wall where ideas run dry and my hands can't do shit. My ambitions always seem to be bigger than my actual skill and I don't know how to make them more congruent.
I've poured so much into people I thought would be lifelong friends, only to find out that I have been shafted in favor of a new man or cooler friends. And when you talk to most therapists about this, it's always, "Why don't you go out and meet people?" Bruh, I did that! I can't predict the future and I can't force people to prioritize me.
As usual, I walk this earth all by myself. Not because I want to. But because I don't know how to stop. If I stop, I'll feel it and that's the last thing I want to do.
