compulsoryaliveness
Member
- Oct 6, 2024
- 23
This is truly the only place on the internet I can actually exist, as I am. I mean, it's the only place anywhere, really.
I am so angry today. It's hard to know where to begin, how to explain how I got here. All the words we use, all the language we've learnt to describe, to name the unspeakable. It's severe depression, it's complex trauma, it's a break up, it's all the points of "stress" they'd list. It's disorganised attachment but it's also being in a world that is at war with itself. It's a Western philosophy of nihilism, it's also a belief in that exact philosophy being the one they want us to subscribe to, lest we all see the light and act with the global majority for freedom.
I am angry at my ex for reasons that are clearly not about that, I see it everywhere. I am still alive, I am still living. I am still waking up and trying not to die. I quit alcohol, the thing that kept me going for the last decade. I am embedded into 12 step worlds. I am everywhere, trying to get better, trying to stay alive. But I'm also HERE, never forgetting that the only constant, since my memories begin at 8 years old, is the thought that I should die.
I feel torn between all the worlds I'm moving through, all the thought processes that compete, all the confusion. It seems obvious that at the end of every thought is the desire to stop - to end it. I don't want to keep doing this. I am so, so tired.
But then walks in survival instinct - in all its glory and delusional optimism. It wants me to live, and in all likelihood probably you too. Isn't that what this forum is? It's the long termers that make up the bulk of who this is for. Those of us that think of suicide everyday, for years, if not our whole lives, but aren't doing it. We are plagued with the knowledge that the rational choice is to leave, but the overwhelming emotional response of waiting a little bit longer. So many of are stuck here. That's why I keep coming back, for the people who are where I am.
Maybe eventually I will do it. But I have too many failed attempts, too many near misses. It's hard to describe what it's like to have a near death experience at your own hands - no one understands this. Many people don't even know ive been through so many almosts.
Is it OCD? Is it autism? Is it the world? Am I having a normal human response to the conditions that I lived through?
I am broken. I've always been this way. But now, without alcohol or other drugs, there's not even a glimmer of pleasure. I live in a world of drudgery. Of letting people down with my lack of desire for them, for connection. I can't feel it. I pretend, but that makes it worse. The harder I pretend to feel something, the harder I crash.
I am so exhausted. I am waiting to die. Waiting for the survival instinct to lose its dominance. In the mean time, I'm here.
But I'm still over there, in a 12 step meeting, in a conservation with a friend, talking to the welfare office. Wondering the why the fuck suicide ought to be so violent. And, in turn, knowing that Western states want us to die. So why can't we?
Wah wah, boo hoo. Like many of us, I have had enough of myself.
I am so angry today. It's hard to know where to begin, how to explain how I got here. All the words we use, all the language we've learnt to describe, to name the unspeakable. It's severe depression, it's complex trauma, it's a break up, it's all the points of "stress" they'd list. It's disorganised attachment but it's also being in a world that is at war with itself. It's a Western philosophy of nihilism, it's also a belief in that exact philosophy being the one they want us to subscribe to, lest we all see the light and act with the global majority for freedom.
I am angry at my ex for reasons that are clearly not about that, I see it everywhere. I am still alive, I am still living. I am still waking up and trying not to die. I quit alcohol, the thing that kept me going for the last decade. I am embedded into 12 step worlds. I am everywhere, trying to get better, trying to stay alive. But I'm also HERE, never forgetting that the only constant, since my memories begin at 8 years old, is the thought that I should die.
I feel torn between all the worlds I'm moving through, all the thought processes that compete, all the confusion. It seems obvious that at the end of every thought is the desire to stop - to end it. I don't want to keep doing this. I am so, so tired.
But then walks in survival instinct - in all its glory and delusional optimism. It wants me to live, and in all likelihood probably you too. Isn't that what this forum is? It's the long termers that make up the bulk of who this is for. Those of us that think of suicide everyday, for years, if not our whole lives, but aren't doing it. We are plagued with the knowledge that the rational choice is to leave, but the overwhelming emotional response of waiting a little bit longer. So many of are stuck here. That's why I keep coming back, for the people who are where I am.
Maybe eventually I will do it. But I have too many failed attempts, too many near misses. It's hard to describe what it's like to have a near death experience at your own hands - no one understands this. Many people don't even know ive been through so many almosts.
Is it OCD? Is it autism? Is it the world? Am I having a normal human response to the conditions that I lived through?
I am broken. I've always been this way. But now, without alcohol or other drugs, there's not even a glimmer of pleasure. I live in a world of drudgery. Of letting people down with my lack of desire for them, for connection. I can't feel it. I pretend, but that makes it worse. The harder I pretend to feel something, the harder I crash.
I am so exhausted. I am waiting to die. Waiting for the survival instinct to lose its dominance. In the mean time, I'm here.
But I'm still over there, in a 12 step meeting, in a conservation with a friend, talking to the welfare office. Wondering the why the fuck suicide ought to be so violent. And, in turn, knowing that Western states want us to die. So why can't we?
Wah wah, boo hoo. Like many of us, I have had enough of myself.
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