darkness

ever since i've quit drinking, i've barely shed a tear. when i don't feel good, i don't feel sad or angry or any other negative emotion. i feel nothing. it doesn't even feel like i exist, or take up any space in this world. i have no emotions, no words, no tears, no beauty, no value, i am nothing.

i hate that feeling. when you feel like you're about to fall into a landslide but you're just grabbing at scrapes, trying not to get sucked in. but all you do is just sink deeper and deeper

it's funny how words are repeated in my head over, and over again - almost against my will - even though i know that they probably don't hold the same meaning as my stupid brain attributes to them.  like an emotional knife, it cuts deeper and deeper each time.  but what do you think cuts deeper? the razor blade in my drawer or the words that i obsess over?

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...