W
Wisdom3_1-9
he/him/his
- Jul 19, 2020
- 1,954
Each successive depressive episode I have gets more intense; more difficult to deal with. I'm crying every day again. My sense of hopelessness increases. My mother, my husband, my friends, even my puppy — they bring me no comfort. In fact, most of the time they frustrate me. They disappoint me because they can't do enough to save me. I don't know why that disappoints me; it's not their fault. They couldn't possibly do enough.
I want to be alone all the time, but I don't ever want to be alone. It makes no sense, but it's my reality. I want to die, but I want to live. I just don't want to live like this. This isn't really living, to be honest. The brain and heart are still functioning, but the soul is dead. I'm dead already. I just need to finish the job. I'd be doing the world a favor. The sooner they can forget me the better.
My brain floods my thoughts with the images and memories of my persecutors. I'm bombarded with mental messages of my inadequacies, faults, and poor decisions. It tells me I deserve to die. It tells me I shouldn't be here; that the world will in fact be better.
And I want nothing more than to hurt those who hurt me. I need to kill their soul too, before I kill my body. I need them to feel my pain. I need them to know they murdered me. But maybe that means little to them. I think of them constantly. They probably never think of me.
It gets worse every time. I really don't want to endure it anymore. If I stay, I know I'll get out of this episode and I'll feel okay for a little while again. But then the next episode will come without warning. And it'll be worse. And how much can I take, really?
I want to be alone all the time, but I don't ever want to be alone. It makes no sense, but it's my reality. I want to die, but I want to live. I just don't want to live like this. This isn't really living, to be honest. The brain and heart are still functioning, but the soul is dead. I'm dead already. I just need to finish the job. I'd be doing the world a favor. The sooner they can forget me the better.
My brain floods my thoughts with the images and memories of my persecutors. I'm bombarded with mental messages of my inadequacies, faults, and poor decisions. It tells me I deserve to die. It tells me I shouldn't be here; that the world will in fact be better.
And I want nothing more than to hurt those who hurt me. I need to kill their soul too, before I kill my body. I need them to feel my pain. I need them to know they murdered me. But maybe that means little to them. I think of them constantly. They probably never think of me.
It gets worse every time. I really don't want to endure it anymore. If I stay, I know I'll get out of this episode and I'll feel okay for a little while again. But then the next episode will come without warning. And it'll be worse. And how much can I take, really?