december 20th, 2012

content note:
alcohol, food

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on friday, i drove home early listening to — it's gonna be better, it's gonna be better... — , crying. i lay in my bed, tired and sleep-deprived, listening and crying. i drank half a bottle of wine and forced myself to eat more asiago cheese and garlic breadsticks than i'd had in a week. i fell asleep early and awoke in the early morning and drove to...

i had lunch in-between and then i drove to...

i met ---- and ----, -----, and i walked to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the ocean nearby. i wanted to watch the sunset. "you know, they come every day? that there's more than one?" they joked. "nooooo....." i replied.

i walked into the waves in the dark.

we went to get food. we talked for two, three hours. i told them everything that had happened to me recently, and it was like none of it mattered anymore. this is me, this is my life, now: i live in los angeles; i live alone in my winter cabin where i drink wine and fall asleep to the mini space heater; i sometimes even light up things that are prettier than they taste.

and every so often — and today is one of those days — i hate everything that i do. i don't hate myself, but i hate what i do, i hate my work, and i don't think it's resistance, or maybe it is, but i haven't felt for years (yes, years) that i have made much of an impact on anything or anyone. i wonder what my purpose for being here is. and not just to be rhetorical or philosophical, but because i need to know. i need to know there is a reason for my being here when for so long and for so many times in the middle of the nightmare, i did not want to be. i am hoping, i am praying. i am waiting for a miracle to make this all worth it, because i have little strength left to fight for myself anymore.



i want my heart to break, completely and fully, so i have a reason to put myself back together again.

///

content note: suicide

december 20th, 2022 —

10 years later, & i still feel this way.*

especially this part:

and every so often — and today is one of those days — i hate everything that i do. i don't hate myself, but i hate what i do, i hate my work, and i don't think it's resistance, or maybe it is, but i haven't felt for years (yes, years) that i have made much of an impact on anything or anyone. i wonder what my purpose for being here is. and not just to be rhetorical or philosophical, but because i need to know. i need to know there is a reason for my being here when for so long and for so many times in the middle of the nightmare, i did not want to be. i am hoping, i am praying. i am waiting for a miracle to make this all worth it, because i have little strength left to fight for myself anymore.

[*minus the alcohol. that was the only winter i ever tried to drink alcohol, & it... really didn't do anything.]

see:

〝 people don't want to believe that you can't recover from "mental illness".

people don't want to believe that you can try to attempt suicide multiple times in one month, and that there isn't an easy answer to "fix" that:

5150 them. 〞

— you could make this place beautiful, june 15th, 2022