I’d be lying if I told you today was the first day I wanted to die since contemplating suicide. Because the truth is, I can’t remember a day when I didn’t think, “I want to die.” But today is the first day in a long time that I cried myself to sleep because nothing feels right. I feel trapped in my head and in my house, and no one seems to notice that I’m dying. Or maybe they do notice, but they’d just rather avoid talking about it because they don’t know what to say. And maybe that’s okay because I don’t really know what to say either. All I know is that I need something to change.
I’d be lying if I told you I was okay because the truth is, this feeling of despair fills me to what seems like the top, and as it overflows, it surrounds me so I feel small. But people don’t like the truth because it changes how they see you. So, I’ll lie to save you from me.
I’d be lying if I told you sleeping was easy. Because the truth is, I sleep too much to avoid facing my anxiety. I don’t like being alone, and that’s all I feel during the day. Everyone else is out doing their life, and I’m sitting around waiting for someone to call me and make me feel worthy again. So, I sleep because you can’t really feel anything – or at least as much – when you’re asleep. I don’t feel alone when I’m asleep. I don’t feel worthless or without purpose. Everyone tells me I shouldn’t feel that way because reasons, but I don’t buy those reasons. They all have children or romantic partners that want them in their lives every day. They have those things and people to look forward to seeing every day, and I’m not that person for anyone and I don’t have those people. So, I sleep. It’s easier that way.
I’d be lying if I told you that you were helping me because the truth is, what you do affects me in ways I can’t and don’t want to explain. Because sometimes, it makes it so I can’t function, and I’m not sure why. And I don’t want this to change how you see me. I could tell you what will fix it, but that’s not fair to you. And I’d rather die than bring you down with me.
I’d be lying if I said I’m going to be happy one day. Because the truth is, I don’t believe that. I feel so separated from everyone around me. Like they know how to be happy and do fun things, and I don’t. Because even when I know I should be having fun, it seems foreign. I know what happiness looks like and what fun should feel like, but even when I know I should be feelings those things, I’m not. So, I drive around trying to avoid whatever this feeling is until I realize I can’t avoid it anymore. And for a second I think, “I’m always going to feel like being dead is a more viable option than being alive.” What’s sad is I’m never not thinking that.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t write this crying out for help, hoping you’d save me. Because the truth is, I don’t think I’m going to make it much further. But I’d be lying if I said I thought you could do it. Because the truth is, I don’t think anyone can.