KuriGohan&Kamehameha
想死不能 - 想活不能
- Nov 23, 2020
- 1,699
I miss all of you on SS. I recently had to go back to university, so every ounce of my energy goes towards trying to manage a decieving performance of a life that's near impossible to maintain. Man, has it been a ride. A jerky, creaky, tumultuous rollercoaster ride that I want to hurl myself off of.
You could say I got lucky, in some aspects. All of my flatmates are neurodivergent or have learning disabilities, so they are quite understanding about most things, although my physical disabilities can still be puzzling to others at times. I truly feel grateful that I don't have to mask all the time and display a fake personality around the friends I live with. Solace only seems to find me when I am with other disabled people.
Yet, those simple acts of kindness aren't enough to make me functional. I struggle to do basic tasks like cook for myself. I'll end up eating the same food for several days because I'm too tired to do chores and my back and legs always feel like someone is jamming a hot poker stick deep within the muscles. I rearranged my schedule so that I am taking less modules this term compared to the spring, but it still isn't enough to help me regain any stamina.
It is so exhausting to maintain the facade of a healthy, energetic, and dedicated student when my body is being ravaged by CFS and pain. I am expected to smile, be chipper, and keep on keeping on, all whilst I recieve no help whatsoever. After all, most people don't even believe this disease is real. They make a mockery of it. They scorn you and call you lazy simply because they don't understand it.
All while this is going on, my partner decided to leave me, then keeps begging for me to come back to him. When I tried to address my dependence on him and suggested I have freedom in the relationship to pursue multiple people because I am fucking terrified of being solely reliant on him, he stormed out and told me he hopes that the next guy uses me up and throws me away. He knows what a precarious position I am in because I cannot recieve disability benefits nor work a full time job.
After the initial break up happened, my best friend came to visit me. I was basically bedridden for around a week because I got a cold which exacerbated the issues I have from CFS. During this time, my best friend still expected me to do everything for him. He made jokes and laughed when I struggled to breathe and was hacking mucus up everywhere, when my lymph notes were swollen even more than they usually are, when I had to fight to drag myself out of my bed to even go use the bathroom.
This bit comes with a trigger warning, I do apologise in advance and hope you will not read it if dubious consent disturbs you. I was curled up in a ball on my bed while I was so ill, and my best friend kept trying to solicit sex from me. I refused, pointing out the fact that I was completely exhausted and so utterly spent by the cold. He decided to sit there and jerk off inches from me while I was curled up like that. I had to hide my face under the covers because I felt so disgusting, I wanted to be away from him.
So there's another bond broken for me, all due to my stupid trauma. I feel like a sex object that people love to toy and play with, then toss aside once I lose my novelty. A doll to be thrown out the pram once it loses its luster.
When he finally went home and I told him how much the event had bothered me, he apologised, then later stated he wanted to move on from me because I was not giving him the affection he desired. So much for all of those comments about taking care of me, staying by my side even if I became incapacitated to the point where I could no longer walk- it was all a lie.
Mind you, I don't want to abandon anyone whom I consider a close friend. I intend to stick by him until the end, no matter how soured his feelings might be. I want to provide support and companionship in whatever way I can, because I feel that's the right thing to do. When you are best mates with someone for years, you don't cast them aside like they're nothing, even in spite of him ignoring me for the most part to go snort cocaine and play video games.
Regardless, he is angry at me for trying to move on from it myself, and said I don't care about other people's feelings. Although I know it all boils down to minced communication, it still pains me. I can't have anything without it being ruined. Not only have I lost a potential safe haven, a retreat from the horrors of daily life and a reliable future, but I have lost a genuine mate who I can shoot the shit with comfortably. That hurts.
The one place online where I could speak honestly besides SS basically bullied me out, with the mods of the chat talking about me behind my back and saying how much they hate me and find me annoying due to my complaining. They said in secret that they don't believe CFS is even real. I wouldn't have even found out if someone in their secret conversation hadn't tipped me off.
These people pretended to be my friends for over 2 years, putting on falsetto compassion and friendliness, then dropping the act as soon as they thought they wouldn't get caught. Of course, I am forced to leave, because I don't want to keep the company of ableists who think dehabilitating disabilities are fake.
Yet, I'm expected to trudge on, as if nothing perturbs me. Everyone else seems to exist in a state of constant motion, an inertia that never stops. Once you slow down and lose that impetus, you are seen as weak and unable to cope. The terminal velocity of life script knows no breaks. You either keep up with the pace, or you're left behind. As soon as you're left behind, you have to grapple with the reality that you may never catch up.
So I am trapped in a perpetual state of trying to regain lost footing. Time that can never be rewound, vitality that can never be restored.. It's all a futile pursuit. However, I am expected to move on like nothing is wrong with me, just function as normal and glide on past years of trauma, abuse, and ill health. How on earth do they expect me to do that?
Everyone asserts with such confidence that things will get better, you simply have to put the effort in. Here is the reality. I wake up every day dizzy and in horrible pain. I still make my way to my classes. Sometimes the lecturer berates me because I am 5 minutes late, when I have to use public transit as I cannot walk up all the hills like my invigorated, healthy young classmates can. I have to sit in a row by myself because no one wants to talk to me. I am an alien.
No one wants to befriend a crippled autistic girl. My disabilities may not be visible upon first glance, but it only takes a couple encounters for my neurotypical cohort to find me off putting due to my speech issues and lack of eye contact, much less how I walk down the pavement at a snail's pace.
I spend each and every day feeling like an outsider, because the undeniable fact is that I am indeed one. I am slow in mind and in body, my cognitive abilities are no longer sharp, my brain is permanently clouded with a hazy fog. When I attend in person seminars or lectures I am totally out of it and retain no information. It takes me probably twice the amount of time to watch a lecture video, and I require subtitles or I cannot process the spoken words.
This is my fault though. I am not trying hard enough to blend in and be likeable. I am not asking enough questions. I am not waking up 3 hours early to wait for every bus just in case the timetable is incorrect. I am not sticking to a schedule. I am not approachable or outgoing. Most importantly, I do not exude levels of positivity and hope akin to what you'd find in a garden variety Hallmark drama.
I try to reach out to my classmates even though I know good and well they find me odd and strange. I offer to study with people, I reach out to help them, I take on extra responsibilities to help the cohort in the year below me... All moot efforts. None of attempts bring about any results. I am still unlikeable because I am a low energy menace to society.
Every day I have thought about ctb, praying every night that a miracle would happen and I'd quietly pass on in my sleep, or I'd be able to overcome the ravaging SI that plagued me after my last attempt. Then in the blink of an eye, something truly strange and serendipitous happened.
For a few days, I had found a glimmer of hope, my one shot in the dark. The one person in my entire degree programme who wanted to befriend me last year suddenly wanted to spend more time with me. We would get on the bus together and he'd walk me home, indulging me in any sort of discussion I wanted, no matter how morbid or negative it may have been.
This kindling connection kept deepening. We have been rather close friends during the year where our course was online, but I chose to keep this person at a distance because I know he has a very good life and I wouldn't want to soil it. Yet, he chose to keep seeking me out when we returned to university this year. It baffled me.
For the last few weeks, I truly had something to look forward to each day. We took turns making dinner for each other and sharing drinks. He'd help me with my chores and rub my aching back and shoulders, giving me the loving kindness I'd yearned for so long. We would stay up all night chatting.
He told me that my disabilities do not make me any lesser and they do not define my personhood. In that moment, I truly wanted to believe it, I so desperately clung to this idea that perhaps there were some good people out there who do care about me. He kept assuring me that there was hope and something to live for no matter how much pain I endured.
Then, we started hugging, and the hugging turned to cuddling, and the cuddling turned to kissing.. You know the story. I was thrilled that for the first time in my 22 years, I may have some semblance of normality. I was finally getting to do things everyone else took for granted, things like crushing on a classmate and being invited to watch films and have dinner.
I never got to date when I was in high school, for I was groomed by elder men who loved the idea of me, but not the real person. I've been physically and sexually abused more times than I can count. The other relationship I've been apart of has been incredibly verbally abusive. I've never gotten to experiment, have fun, and truly live my life like others my age.
He made me feel normal. I believed every word he said and I drunk the time we spent together as if it were my ichor, hanging on to every last word and moment because I cherished it so much. In the back of my mind, I began to wonder if I loved him. My sweet friend who'd tuck me into bed when I'd collapse after school, who'd buy me dinner and tidy my desk so it saved me the energy, could he truly love a defective product like me?
Then, all my hopes were shattered into a billion pieces, with only 2 sentences to blame. "You're amazing and so insanely attractive, but I want to do lots of high energy stuff like traveling. My lifestyle won't be compatible with yours." The further the confession went on, the more I realized the underlying insinuation was that I am too disabled to travel the world and have grand adventures, but I would be so desirable if that was not that case.
It was too good to be true. I felt truly crushed and heartbroken. Yet a few days later, he shows affection for me again, apologises, and says he isn't quite sure what he wants. I shared so much intimacy with him again, only for it to grind to a screeching halt when he realized he may have to commit to a relationship with me. God forbid. So now I am being forced to wait until he makes his mind up as to whether or not I am worth the risk.
He went home for awhile to spend time with his parents and school friends, to get some space and ask them for their opinions. However I was warned that while his family will likely have empathy for me, they may dissuade him from pursuing me due to my "issues". Great, that makes me feel absolutely fantastic! Especially when I have hardly anyone I can confine in.
I have no home to return to. My only family member is very ill and approaching the end of her life. I have no family to hug and squeeze me and tell me everything will be alright. I nearly cried when my friend invited me to spend Christmas with his family, though I assume he will revoke the invitation if he decides not to seek out a romantic relationship with me. I yearn so much for the things I can never have.
I truly feel like the lowest of the low. I am forced to struggle everyday for absolutely no happiness, fulfillment, or joy in my life. As soon as I get anything pleasurable, it is yanked away from me immediately, as if it never existed in the first place. I've tried to make other connections, I've tried to go outside and live a modicum of a life, but it is just damn near impossible.
I went to my first music venue ever, only to quickly realize no one likes a girl who can only go for one dance (and not really a dance, in the way everyone else was jumping and moving around, but a sway) before they have to sit down out of pain and exhaustion.
I don't understand why I am forced to struggle like this. There is no fairy tale magic awaiting me. No good ending can come from this narrative. This isn't like a film, where the science fiction tier cures, motivational speeches, and instantaneous determination appear out of thin air. The main character of this story is destined for suffering and hardship.
Even my CFS advisor I was assigned to has admitted it is very unlikely to find work once an employer discovers you have the disease. Regretfully, I have been told there is absolutely nothing I can do except pace myself and try not to overexert my limited reserves of energy. I am going to suffer forever.
Regardless of what people say to me in a fruitless attempt to discourage me from my eventual suicide, I will always know deep down that I am defective and nothing special. A mediocre life for a mediocre individual, whose skills and passions were squashed by the cruel, entropic nature of biology.
My friend told me that I may not get better but I may still find contentment in subtle ways, and that will propel me forward enough to enjoy life- coupled with the platitude that as long as I am alive, it is better than nothing. I think he is completely wrong.
What is the point in living if you are subjected to a steady decline of non stop misery? There is no reward for me, there's no twist in the climax that turns things around for the better- only the same old suffering awaits, as it always has. As I said, this is reality, not fantasy.
I have always fixated on fictional characters and aspired to be like those I admired, for I had no friends or loved ones in my life to look up to. I love Makise Kurisu, I want to be as brilliant and composed as she is. However, I will never be a tsundere 300 IQ genius girl who is adored by all. No matter how hard I aspire to reach these unrealistic ideals, it won't happen. I can never attain a likeable personality nor an abundance of success.
I truly wish people would understand that it is cruel and inhumane to tell me things will get better and I will reach some impossible delusion of grandeur when the cold, harsh reality begs to differ. All I want is for this suffering to be over, to gain the courage I need to put an end to it.
You could say I got lucky, in some aspects. All of my flatmates are neurodivergent or have learning disabilities, so they are quite understanding about most things, although my physical disabilities can still be puzzling to others at times. I truly feel grateful that I don't have to mask all the time and display a fake personality around the friends I live with. Solace only seems to find me when I am with other disabled people.
Yet, those simple acts of kindness aren't enough to make me functional. I struggle to do basic tasks like cook for myself. I'll end up eating the same food for several days because I'm too tired to do chores and my back and legs always feel like someone is jamming a hot poker stick deep within the muscles. I rearranged my schedule so that I am taking less modules this term compared to the spring, but it still isn't enough to help me regain any stamina.
It is so exhausting to maintain the facade of a healthy, energetic, and dedicated student when my body is being ravaged by CFS and pain. I am expected to smile, be chipper, and keep on keeping on, all whilst I recieve no help whatsoever. After all, most people don't even believe this disease is real. They make a mockery of it. They scorn you and call you lazy simply because they don't understand it.
All while this is going on, my partner decided to leave me, then keeps begging for me to come back to him. When I tried to address my dependence on him and suggested I have freedom in the relationship to pursue multiple people because I am fucking terrified of being solely reliant on him, he stormed out and told me he hopes that the next guy uses me up and throws me away. He knows what a precarious position I am in because I cannot recieve disability benefits nor work a full time job.
After the initial break up happened, my best friend came to visit me. I was basically bedridden for around a week because I got a cold which exacerbated the issues I have from CFS. During this time, my best friend still expected me to do everything for him. He made jokes and laughed when I struggled to breathe and was hacking mucus up everywhere, when my lymph notes were swollen even more than they usually are, when I had to fight to drag myself out of my bed to even go use the bathroom.
This bit comes with a trigger warning, I do apologise in advance and hope you will not read it if dubious consent disturbs you. I was curled up in a ball on my bed while I was so ill, and my best friend kept trying to solicit sex from me. I refused, pointing out the fact that I was completely exhausted and so utterly spent by the cold. He decided to sit there and jerk off inches from me while I was curled up like that. I had to hide my face under the covers because I felt so disgusting, I wanted to be away from him.
So there's another bond broken for me, all due to my stupid trauma. I feel like a sex object that people love to toy and play with, then toss aside once I lose my novelty. A doll to be thrown out the pram once it loses its luster.
When he finally went home and I told him how much the event had bothered me, he apologised, then later stated he wanted to move on from me because I was not giving him the affection he desired. So much for all of those comments about taking care of me, staying by my side even if I became incapacitated to the point where I could no longer walk- it was all a lie.
Mind you, I don't want to abandon anyone whom I consider a close friend. I intend to stick by him until the end, no matter how soured his feelings might be. I want to provide support and companionship in whatever way I can, because I feel that's the right thing to do. When you are best mates with someone for years, you don't cast them aside like they're nothing, even in spite of him ignoring me for the most part to go snort cocaine and play video games.
Regardless, he is angry at me for trying to move on from it myself, and said I don't care about other people's feelings. Although I know it all boils down to minced communication, it still pains me. I can't have anything without it being ruined. Not only have I lost a potential safe haven, a retreat from the horrors of daily life and a reliable future, but I have lost a genuine mate who I can shoot the shit with comfortably. That hurts.
The one place online where I could speak honestly besides SS basically bullied me out, with the mods of the chat talking about me behind my back and saying how much they hate me and find me annoying due to my complaining. They said in secret that they don't believe CFS is even real. I wouldn't have even found out if someone in their secret conversation hadn't tipped me off.
These people pretended to be my friends for over 2 years, putting on falsetto compassion and friendliness, then dropping the act as soon as they thought they wouldn't get caught. Of course, I am forced to leave, because I don't want to keep the company of ableists who think dehabilitating disabilities are fake.
Yet, I'm expected to trudge on, as if nothing perturbs me. Everyone else seems to exist in a state of constant motion, an inertia that never stops. Once you slow down and lose that impetus, you are seen as weak and unable to cope. The terminal velocity of life script knows no breaks. You either keep up with the pace, or you're left behind. As soon as you're left behind, you have to grapple with the reality that you may never catch up.
So I am trapped in a perpetual state of trying to regain lost footing. Time that can never be rewound, vitality that can never be restored.. It's all a futile pursuit. However, I am expected to move on like nothing is wrong with me, just function as normal and glide on past years of trauma, abuse, and ill health. How on earth do they expect me to do that?
Everyone asserts with such confidence that things will get better, you simply have to put the effort in. Here is the reality. I wake up every day dizzy and in horrible pain. I still make my way to my classes. Sometimes the lecturer berates me because I am 5 minutes late, when I have to use public transit as I cannot walk up all the hills like my invigorated, healthy young classmates can. I have to sit in a row by myself because no one wants to talk to me. I am an alien.
No one wants to befriend a crippled autistic girl. My disabilities may not be visible upon first glance, but it only takes a couple encounters for my neurotypical cohort to find me off putting due to my speech issues and lack of eye contact, much less how I walk down the pavement at a snail's pace.
I spend each and every day feeling like an outsider, because the undeniable fact is that I am indeed one. I am slow in mind and in body, my cognitive abilities are no longer sharp, my brain is permanently clouded with a hazy fog. When I attend in person seminars or lectures I am totally out of it and retain no information. It takes me probably twice the amount of time to watch a lecture video, and I require subtitles or I cannot process the spoken words.
This is my fault though. I am not trying hard enough to blend in and be likeable. I am not asking enough questions. I am not waking up 3 hours early to wait for every bus just in case the timetable is incorrect. I am not sticking to a schedule. I am not approachable or outgoing. Most importantly, I do not exude levels of positivity and hope akin to what you'd find in a garden variety Hallmark drama.
I try to reach out to my classmates even though I know good and well they find me odd and strange. I offer to study with people, I reach out to help them, I take on extra responsibilities to help the cohort in the year below me... All moot efforts. None of attempts bring about any results. I am still unlikeable because I am a low energy menace to society.
Every day I have thought about ctb, praying every night that a miracle would happen and I'd quietly pass on in my sleep, or I'd be able to overcome the ravaging SI that plagued me after my last attempt. Then in the blink of an eye, something truly strange and serendipitous happened.
For a few days, I had found a glimmer of hope, my one shot in the dark. The one person in my entire degree programme who wanted to befriend me last year suddenly wanted to spend more time with me. We would get on the bus together and he'd walk me home, indulging me in any sort of discussion I wanted, no matter how morbid or negative it may have been.
This kindling connection kept deepening. We have been rather close friends during the year where our course was online, but I chose to keep this person at a distance because I know he has a very good life and I wouldn't want to soil it. Yet, he chose to keep seeking me out when we returned to university this year. It baffled me.
For the last few weeks, I truly had something to look forward to each day. We took turns making dinner for each other and sharing drinks. He'd help me with my chores and rub my aching back and shoulders, giving me the loving kindness I'd yearned for so long. We would stay up all night chatting.
He told me that my disabilities do not make me any lesser and they do not define my personhood. In that moment, I truly wanted to believe it, I so desperately clung to this idea that perhaps there were some good people out there who do care about me. He kept assuring me that there was hope and something to live for no matter how much pain I endured.
Then, we started hugging, and the hugging turned to cuddling, and the cuddling turned to kissing.. You know the story. I was thrilled that for the first time in my 22 years, I may have some semblance of normality. I was finally getting to do things everyone else took for granted, things like crushing on a classmate and being invited to watch films and have dinner.
I never got to date when I was in high school, for I was groomed by elder men who loved the idea of me, but not the real person. I've been physically and sexually abused more times than I can count. The other relationship I've been apart of has been incredibly verbally abusive. I've never gotten to experiment, have fun, and truly live my life like others my age.
He made me feel normal. I believed every word he said and I drunk the time we spent together as if it were my ichor, hanging on to every last word and moment because I cherished it so much. In the back of my mind, I began to wonder if I loved him. My sweet friend who'd tuck me into bed when I'd collapse after school, who'd buy me dinner and tidy my desk so it saved me the energy, could he truly love a defective product like me?
Then, all my hopes were shattered into a billion pieces, with only 2 sentences to blame. "You're amazing and so insanely attractive, but I want to do lots of high energy stuff like traveling. My lifestyle won't be compatible with yours." The further the confession went on, the more I realized the underlying insinuation was that I am too disabled to travel the world and have grand adventures, but I would be so desirable if that was not that case.
It was too good to be true. I felt truly crushed and heartbroken. Yet a few days later, he shows affection for me again, apologises, and says he isn't quite sure what he wants. I shared so much intimacy with him again, only for it to grind to a screeching halt when he realized he may have to commit to a relationship with me. God forbid. So now I am being forced to wait until he makes his mind up as to whether or not I am worth the risk.
He went home for awhile to spend time with his parents and school friends, to get some space and ask them for their opinions. However I was warned that while his family will likely have empathy for me, they may dissuade him from pursuing me due to my "issues". Great, that makes me feel absolutely fantastic! Especially when I have hardly anyone I can confine in.
I have no home to return to. My only family member is very ill and approaching the end of her life. I have no family to hug and squeeze me and tell me everything will be alright. I nearly cried when my friend invited me to spend Christmas with his family, though I assume he will revoke the invitation if he decides not to seek out a romantic relationship with me. I yearn so much for the things I can never have.
I truly feel like the lowest of the low. I am forced to struggle everyday for absolutely no happiness, fulfillment, or joy in my life. As soon as I get anything pleasurable, it is yanked away from me immediately, as if it never existed in the first place. I've tried to make other connections, I've tried to go outside and live a modicum of a life, but it is just damn near impossible.
I went to my first music venue ever, only to quickly realize no one likes a girl who can only go for one dance (and not really a dance, in the way everyone else was jumping and moving around, but a sway) before they have to sit down out of pain and exhaustion.
I don't understand why I am forced to struggle like this. There is no fairy tale magic awaiting me. No good ending can come from this narrative. This isn't like a film, where the science fiction tier cures, motivational speeches, and instantaneous determination appear out of thin air. The main character of this story is destined for suffering and hardship.
Even my CFS advisor I was assigned to has admitted it is very unlikely to find work once an employer discovers you have the disease. Regretfully, I have been told there is absolutely nothing I can do except pace myself and try not to overexert my limited reserves of energy. I am going to suffer forever.
Regardless of what people say to me in a fruitless attempt to discourage me from my eventual suicide, I will always know deep down that I am defective and nothing special. A mediocre life for a mediocre individual, whose skills and passions were squashed by the cruel, entropic nature of biology.
My friend told me that I may not get better but I may still find contentment in subtle ways, and that will propel me forward enough to enjoy life- coupled with the platitude that as long as I am alive, it is better than nothing. I think he is completely wrong.
What is the point in living if you are subjected to a steady decline of non stop misery? There is no reward for me, there's no twist in the climax that turns things around for the better- only the same old suffering awaits, as it always has. As I said, this is reality, not fantasy.
I have always fixated on fictional characters and aspired to be like those I admired, for I had no friends or loved ones in my life to look up to. I love Makise Kurisu, I want to be as brilliant and composed as she is. However, I will never be a tsundere 300 IQ genius girl who is adored by all. No matter how hard I aspire to reach these unrealistic ideals, it won't happen. I can never attain a likeable personality nor an abundance of success.
I truly wish people would understand that it is cruel and inhumane to tell me things will get better and I will reach some impossible delusion of grandeur when the cold, harsh reality begs to differ. All I want is for this suffering to be over, to gain the courage I need to put an end to it.
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