
Yuri Yurovich
just another sad guest on this dark earth
- Jun 19, 2022
- 37
So I often feel desperate to talk to someone about my problems or my desire to end it all. Unfortunately, friends and family don't work. When I meet with a friend, I would rather just enjoy the conversation and presence of someone friendly. I've resolved myself to talk to them time after time, only to chicken out in their presence. With family ... well, that's fucked up. I grew up in a family where no one could talk about anything important, and my sister has kind of freaked out when I tried to raise touchy subjects before, so I am reluctant to go that route.
Which brings me to therapists. Can't speak for anyone else but there have only be a couple of therapists that I could really talk to about things. Maybe that is my fault, but I have found some just have no fucking rapport with a patient. I imagine that just happens from time to time, but then that is what therapists are paid for, aren't they? At present, much as I would like someone to talk to I can't bring myself to seek out a therapist, since I don't want to go through the disappointment and sense of futility having another lame stilted conversation would bring.
Sometimes I want to sew my lips shut and never say a word again. I despair of the worth of attempting to communicate with any other human being.
In a way, I think hope is the fucking worst. I have pretty much concluded that my life is over for all intents and purposes. I don't even want to try again. But then I get some stupid fucking glimmer of hope that there might be some way of achieving greater fulfillment in the years I might have left (please let them be few). I wonder if I could kill whatever part of me that gives rise to hope, if I could just live without too much misery. If I could turn myself into an automaton. But it seems likely the only thing that can kill hope is death.
Which brings me to therapists. Can't speak for anyone else but there have only be a couple of therapists that I could really talk to about things. Maybe that is my fault, but I have found some just have no fucking rapport with a patient. I imagine that just happens from time to time, but then that is what therapists are paid for, aren't they? At present, much as I would like someone to talk to I can't bring myself to seek out a therapist, since I don't want to go through the disappointment and sense of futility having another lame stilted conversation would bring.
Sometimes I want to sew my lips shut and never say a word again. I despair of the worth of attempting to communicate with any other human being.
In a way, I think hope is the fucking worst. I have pretty much concluded that my life is over for all intents and purposes. I don't even want to try again. But then I get some stupid fucking glimmer of hope that there might be some way of achieving greater fulfillment in the years I might have left (please let them be few). I wonder if I could kill whatever part of me that gives rise to hope, if I could just live without too much misery. If I could turn myself into an automaton. But it seems likely the only thing that can kill hope is death.