traintracks.mp3
it wears me out
- Mar 4, 2024
- 33
Hello, it's been a while since I've posted here. Over the past couple of months I have been earnestly trying to improve my life. I've been trying to figure out what I want to do with my life career-wise, and have been taking steps to accomplish that. I managed to work on my relationship with my mother, and we both improved our understanding of each other. I identified some sources of my unhappiness, particularly in the form of a draining relationship with a roommate. By all standards measurable, I should be on the path to a happier, more fulfilling life. I should be hopeful. Yet the opposite is true. Many times I've come to similar epiphanies, made improvements, rekindled my connection with humanity. Despite it all, the cycle continues. I fall into a new unforeseen plight, and whatever relief seemed to be on the horizon slips out of reach again. The "improvement" hurts the most. It's a scrambling attempt to pick up the pieces, and it never amounts to anything. I can't envision a positive future anymore, as I can't envision a future at all. Next week is blank, a five year plan is unfathomable. And when I hear the train pass through town at night I am brought back to several months ago, when for whatever reason the trains were not running down that track that night, and I missed my opportunity to end it all. However, this "life improvement" has complicated my feelings. Where I was once detached from my family and peers, and I was sure they would never understand why I had chosen to do this, I have made strides in communication and began to feel understood by those close to me. But understanding has done nothing to dull the pain. Now I know when I leave, they will know exactly what has driven me to this place, and our late night conversations will replay over and over. As if there is something that could be heard differently, a solution amongst the sorrow. An interjection to convince me to endure. I know the consensus on this website tends to be that leaving is a choice that should be respected by one's peers, and I have seen many sentiments that our guilt is unfounded, as choosing to end one's life is a sensible expression of autonomy. But there is something to be said about the pain of telling my mother everything, all my fears of living, with some hope it might fix something. Only to know now that there really is nothing she could have done. I do feel guilty to leave her this way, to leave our relationship the best it has possibly ever been, and let her know it did nothing. It couldn't have saved me. I truly don't think anything could have been done differently in my life, any event could have been avoided to save me. If my life was comprised of entirely different circumstances, the outcome would be the same. I do not think I was built to endure the human condition. I know this makes me weak, I know there are people out there who are able to overcome incredible burdens, and I know there are people who would be grateful to have my life. And I am grateful for many things in my life, but they will not change the outcome. Despite my guilt, I do not worry how people will view me after death. I do not care if they see me as selfish, as weak, as crazy, as tragic, or a plethora of other perspectives. It will mean nothing. I will be nothing. I will be free. Amidst this upturn in my life, the solution has never been clearer. I am trapped, not by circumstance, but by my own mind. My condition is incompatible with life, and this is the only way out. I must simply find the courage to take it. I am sorry if my ramblings do not make much sense, or if I come off as pretentious or shallow. I understand there are flaws in my perception, obviously clouded by mental illness. Thank you, however, for listening. It is important to me to be able to express this at least somewhere before my solution is fulfilled.
