Before Your Eyes pt. 1
I’m sitting here after finishing the game, and my face is covered in tears. Hash is asleep on my lap, and there’s a candlelit between me and my monitor. The wounds on my face sting from the salt from my tears.
Earlier today the voice kept coming back. I kept hearing it tell me how nice it would be. I wanted to drive my car off the cliff, or into a wall as fast as it could possibly go.
I’ve been tired. I’ve been tired for a while now. Life hasn’t been the best if I’m going to be honest. I’m afraid of going back on medication, especially because it didn’t really work for me. I don’t want to die, but it keeps tempting me.
I’ve felt like my life is falling apart in a soft way. I’ve lost my friend groups and my sense of community. I had a doctor’s appointment earlier today, and the doctor told me there’s a very good chance I can’t squat heavy weights due to something wrong in my abdomen, most likely a hernia. This most likely means I won’t be able to hit my goal of the 1000 lbs club, which was something I had been pushing myself towards for the better part of half a year now. I also have an x-ray of my ankles and shins, as I might have a stress fracture on them. I don’t think I’ll be able to run, no matter how hard I’ve been pushing myself. I feel like every time I’ve tried to get back up, life has hit me back down. I’m tired.
I called my dad. I wanted to tell him I didn’t want to live, but instead I told him I was tired. I am tired. I’m also starting to have to fight back these intrusive thoughts again. I don’t want anyone to be worried about me, so part of me wanted to write this in atbash cipher like I used to do. I think I’ll try to drown this out with other posts so no one feels worried. I worry I’m too depressing of a person, but I don’t know what to do. I do my best to hide it or at least control it away from other people, but it gets hard when it becomes a constant thing. I’m tired. I don’t want to be this person. I’ve fought hard, I really have – you have to believe me. I don’t think I can do this.
I’m nowhere near suicidal ideation (I think), but I’m definitely not at a good place either. I find depression whispering its soft melody into my ears, a gentle promise of all of my pain going away with one final action. My mom used to tell me that it was a long-term solution to a short-term problem. It doesn’t feel that way, Mom. It feels like a problem that’s been as far back as I can remember. I don’t think an 8-year-old should have looked at a bottle of toxic chemicals and heard that voice. I’m so, so tired. If I lay down it’s over, but I don’t know how to keep walking.
I found myself thinking about it while driving back home from the doctor. I was thinking about how it would affect the people around me. None of these people were at fault or would deserve to have to hear that news. But I was thinking about it. I’m really tired.