this vile skin that has encased me, holds me captive, relentless, panoptic, vicious, tireless eater of my soul. wants me gone, wants me dead. it's exhausting fighting this invisible opponent, exhausting fighting myself.
so very tired. feeling so bad.
nothing peaks my interest, my laughter is so sparse.
brutal, slow, tiny little bites like those little chicken dinosaurs.
people try and help and i do appreciate that they care, or at least i try to. but there doesn't seem to be any lift, any break, any amelioration.
more big words that don't quite capture the dread and despair that are my constant companions.
Post from 2011 - Who am I if I'm not suicidal? What is life like? Where am I uncomfortable because I'm not suicidal? It feels anxiously flat, a nervous nothingness So I feel ...
1 year ago