darling, if you call me, I’ll come running
I have to make myself do things, it seems. I need to push myself hard. The way I live when times get like this, when autopilot shuts down and everything is hard and the world keeps moving and I look up and I’ve been sitting in bed for six hours and I haven’t showered or done homework, is to just push through it. It’s like if your brain stopped breathing for you and you had to focus on every breath. Consciously breathe. Like, yes, you can do that for a little bit, but it is so difficult to live your entire life that way. Motivate yourself! Call your mom! Eat a fruit! Literally like, yes, these things work, I can force myself to get out of bed, but I can’t make myself breathe when I’m asleep. I can’t make myself breathe when I’m scared or focusing. When you have to keep yourself alive every second, everything else is secondary. My first focus can’t be school ever because my first focus is “try not to die today”.
I felt suicidal on Thanksgiving morning. I woke up and it was there. I felt so stupid. Because I forgot how it felt to want to die. I know what to do, I know how to handle it for the most part. But it’s almost embarrassing because I really thought I was better, that I loved my family so much, that I had made this significant choice to not want to kill myself. And, to be fair, it lasted a while. Months. But now I want to die again. And I feel that draw of forever. Of this is the only thing my life will ever be. And it makes it so much more difficult to force the air in and out of my lungs because yes, my family would miss me, and yes, I could make an impact on the world, but it would just be so easy to stop breathing, stop forcing life into this body, and finally finally fall asleep.
I’m not going to do it. I hope not. I don’t want to. I want to believe I’m stronger than this. After all, I lived through January. But I don’t know how I did. And I don’t know if I could do it all again if I had to.