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(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-12 - 11:20 p.m.)
This is full of despair, so don't read any further if you don't want to deal with that. I'll give some space so nothing comes up until you scroll down.
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I am hollow, a brittle layer with only blackness inside. I am in pain, but it is wrong for me to be in pain. I have no source of comfort. I have no right to ask, and even if I did, nothing would help.
Today I went out to coffee with a couple of friends who just became boyfriend and girlfriend, entirely as a result of my introducing them since they were from two completely different social groups. They knew that I've been having some bad days, and I warned them that I might want to talk about what's troubling me. Well, they couldn't stop talking about how wonderful their life is/how much they like the new appliances they bought for their house/what the kids are doing long enough to let me get a word in edgewise. Even when tears came into my eyes, their only question was "Would you like to go to the car"? As if my presence embarassed them...
Well, that's not quite accurate. At one point, how miserable I was must have penetrated, because one of them asked: "Are you all right?"
"No," I said quietly.
And they went back to talking about their wonderful lives. Somehow, that's even worse.
I'm sick and tired of living. I can't fight the pain any more. My brother-in-law's continued presence is intensely distressing to me, but of course there's no place else he can go... my friends don't give a damn that I'm suffering, and find appliances more important (even if I survive the next couple of days, I'll probably never hear from them again)... my back as been broken as far as work at Ipsos-Reid goes (I ended up cancelling or leaving early from my last three shifts, which I'm sure they're not going to tolerate, from panic attacks brought on my my home situation and the "bitch" incident from a respondant a few weeks ago, which is finally starting to hit me).
I'm exhausted. And since I doubt anyone reads this weblog anyway, what I say here doesn't matter. But typing it out helps me get it straight in my head.
Even typing it in here has a terrible consequence if anyone does read it -- they'll turn their backs on me and try to get as far away from me as possible. I'll lose everything I've worked so hard for in the last several months. People don't want to look at despair and death, even if it's over someone else's shoulder.
So I'm tossing everything away, leaving myself free and clear to jump. This might be my last entry.
This is full of despair, so don't read any further if you don't want to deal with that. I'll give some space so nothing comes up until you scroll down.
a
b
c
d
e
f
g
h
i
j
k
l
m
n
o
p
q
r
s
t
u
v
w
x
y
z
I am hollow, a brittle layer with only blackness inside. I am in pain, but it is wrong for me to be in pain. I have no source of comfort. I have no right to ask, and even if I did, nothing would help.
Today I went out to coffee with a couple of friends who just became boyfriend and girlfriend, entirely as a result of my introducing them since they were from two completely different social groups. They knew that I've been having some bad days, and I warned them that I might want to talk about what's troubling me. Well, they couldn't stop talking about how wonderful their life is/how much they like the new appliances they bought for their house/what the kids are doing long enough to let me get a word in edgewise. Even when tears came into my eyes, their only question was "Would you like to go to the car"? As if my presence embarassed them...
Well, that's not quite accurate. At one point, how miserable I was must have penetrated, because one of them asked: "Are you all right?"
"No," I said quietly.
And they went back to talking about their wonderful lives. Somehow, that's even worse.
I'm sick and tired of living. I can't fight the pain any more. My brother-in-law's continued presence is intensely distressing to me, but of course there's no place else he can go... my friends don't give a damn that I'm suffering, and find appliances more important (even if I survive the next couple of days, I'll probably never hear from them again)... my back as been broken as far as work at Ipsos-Reid goes (I ended up cancelling or leaving early from my last three shifts, which I'm sure they're not going to tolerate, from panic attacks brought on my my home situation and the "bitch" incident from a respondant a few weeks ago, which is finally starting to hit me).
I'm exhausted. And since I doubt anyone reads this weblog anyway, what I say here doesn't matter. But typing it out helps me get it straight in my head.
Even typing it in here has a terrible consequence if anyone does read it -- they'll turn their backs on me and try to get as far away from me as possible. I'll lose everything I've worked so hard for in the last several months. People don't want to look at despair and death, even if it's over someone else's shoulder.
So I'm tossing everything away, leaving myself free and clear to jump. This might be my last entry.
