I want to rip into myself sometimes. I just want to peel the flesh from my bones. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to live. There’s a vice around my chest, squeezing the joy out of me. All day. It’s all in my head – I know. But it won’t go away. I’ve tried everything to make it stop hurting. I’m trying. God knows I’m trying. Should I just run until my heart explodes?? Until my legs break apart?
Would it be the worst if I was selfish for once and took what I wanted? I already had a great life. I contributed to some awesome products that helped kids grow and learn. I helped my family and those around me as best as I could. I lifted spirits and forgave deep transgressions and I don’t care if I ever have kids. I think I’m okay with not being here. I’m okay with it… it’s okay. I’m at peace with letting go I just don’t want to hurt R or the twins… I don’t care about anyone else. Least of all myself.
I just want to hurt myself, bad.
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I wrote this yesterday. I almost didn’t post it. It’s raw. It’s where my head goes sometimes. I forced myself to sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking, I want to throw myself down the stairs and see what breaks. I want to walk into traffic and feel truly alive in the bright, warm, glow of headlights before I feel the impact I’m so familiar with and everything goes dark.
Deep down I still feel that way. I’ve never been so close to telling R about these thoughts. I almost asked him to come sit w/ me because I was truly afraid I would do something drastic. But, I didn’t want to worry him. He already took me to urgent care earlier that day just to be told what I already knew.. it’s all in my head. The pain is all in my head.
I made it to today, and though I’m still in pain I’m a little more clear headed so I’ll just shove it all down, bury it in the graveyard, because that’s what I need to keep myself safe, for now.