Always something to survive.
I spent all my 20s just trying to survive something. An illness (hello depression), jobs that sucked the life out of me, bad debt and life itself. It was incredibly hard but I never stopped to question the meaning of life. I really thought once I had made it past everything, it would all make sense.
I made it past everything and things made sense for a short while. And then my love died. Now I’m questioning everything. Like, is this my life’s purpose? Always having something to survive? To what end? I won’t lie right now I think life is a meaningless shit show. I’d like to unsubscribe but I can’t find the correct unsubscribe button.
I’m frustrated with life itself. What does it want from me? Why are the shittiest things always finding me? The highs have been very high but they are short lived and in comparison to the shit that finds me, the highs don’t even feel worth it right now.
I’d like to exit this shit show in a way that isn’t my doing. I need something to happen to me that puts an end to the madness and any potential highs. Right now any potential future highs aren’t worth all this trouble. Life is meaningless. God is playing dice with the world and we are (I am) just collateral damage.
My therapist has hope for me. I’ve lost all hope. I admire her in her persistence and belief I can be helped. I’m not entirely convinced I’ll be honest. It was her recommendation that I go to a mental health facility, she will come and see me there she says. I get what she’s trying to do. I get what she hopes can be done. I just don’t believe it can be done. But I could be wrong.
I feel like I’m relieving 2016 all over again. Things I thought were behind me. I appreciated my stay at that hospital back then but I never thought I’d have to go back again at least not so soon. It makes me feel like I’ve failed at life or rather, life has failed me.
I’ve brought nothing but my best to the table and life has met me with kindness sometimes but right now it’s really outdone itself with the cruelty. I don’t know, man. If I had to write a marketing something for earth life I’d struggle coming up with anything right now. Just don’t do it. This is one of the reasons I’m never having kids. I don’t want to deal with my own problems and then also have to be there for my kids’ suffering.
What the hell. I’m not a masochist.
Right now nothing annoys me more than people who remind me how much I’ve survived. If it was up to me I’d be surviving nothing. Don’t praise me for making it out of tough situations. Those tough situations didn’t need to exist to begin with. I’m honestly annoyed. My whole life story can be summed up in two words: she survived.
I’m honestly SO tired of always having to survive something. Am I in an obstacle course I’m not aware of? Does the shit prize come after I’ve made it past all the obstacles? Man. The greatest prize for me right now would be a heart that flatlines. I’m tired of everything.
I’m going to the hospital on wings of my therapist’s hope. For her sake I hope this works. I’m indifferent. If it doesn’t work I won’t be surprised. I’ll genuinely be surprised if it works. I don’t even know what this working would even look like. It would keep me alive for a bit longer. I’m not even sure that’s something to look forward to. I want no part in this sadistic life.
I’ve been here before. If my 20s are anything to go by, it doesn’t really get better from here. It might feel like it’s better for a short while but that’s just to trick my mind into thinking any of this was worth it. I need someone to just put the word “FINALLY” on my headstone on the day I finally die. Cos I’ve lived, man. I have lived.