darkness

Sometimes, it feels like there's a balancing scale in my brain. The moment I'm happy for a little too long, the brain goes, "here's a little depression to help re-balance the scale"

I go to bed feeling miserable. I wake up feeling miserable. I just want this to end. But I keep telling myself to hang in there, no matter how fucking difficult it is because there is someone that I love waiting for me back at home. 

  I wrote this on 10 October 2021. It's hard to swallow that even after walking away from the traumatising situations, even after all the therapy and medicine, even after arriving at the place that I've been dreaming of, and being in love with the kindest and sweetest human being ever, I'm still struggling with the horrible things in my head. The conclusion, then, is that there must be something wrong with me, right?

I woke up at 4pm today. I wasn't sure I was going to wake up at all, given all the alcohol and Xanax that I took the night before. But I did. Yet again, I did.  It took every last bit of energy that I had to climb out of bed and walk to the kitchen. I realised that I had left the stove on. I wanted to make noodles, but I must have passed out before that. It was the first time I took ten pills at once, and with that much alcohol. The dosage gets higher and higher each time but somehow I always end up surviving.  Perhaps I didn't really want to die. But neither do I want to live.  Is that how every suicidal person feels? I don't presume to know.  I started this private blog last year because I didn't know where to put my dark thoughts. misydolem spells melodysim backwards, which seems appropriate for my alter ego. I don't pen the thoughts down in my public blog because people don't like reading dark things, or at least "normal" people that aren't dam...

There's something comforting about being a stranger in a foreign land. It's like putting life on pause without actually having to die. Nobody recognises you, and there is absolutely no expectation of you to be anything more than a law-abiding human being.  Nobody cares if you can't crawl out of bed to get lunch. Nobody cares if you're stifling a sob under your cap, which really does nothing to hide your contorted face. Nobody cares that you're drinking alone at happy hour, though evidently not very happy. And nobody cares that you look like absolute shit because putting on your contact lens requires too much energy. My housemate said that she has always felt invisible and it is a very lonely thing. But for me, I think being invisible is a liberating thing. It's a breathe of fresh air, if there are even any breaths left to take.