It’s agony wanting so badly to kill myself, but being unable to because I don’t want to hurt a few key people in my life. I hate that I care. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could just do it and get it over with. And why the fuck do I care how it might impact upon my current therapist and the OT’s at the clinic? What even makes me sure they might be negatively impacted for even a minute? I don’t think they really care anyway. They see so many people, they can’t care about them all. Especially not those annoying, over-bearing types like me. That’s reserved for the good clients. The only person I feel cares is A. Well, she did anyway. I’m trying to hold onto the thought that she still does. Don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow, but I already know I will end up there anyway, because I’m so damn predictable. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to see anyone.
I’m angry with the world. I want to burn it all down. I hate humanity. I’m not good with people anyway. I thought I had become better with them through the past few years, but apparently not. When I can’t even understand what a person is saying and end up saying stupid things that don’t even make sense. When I misread the simplest of things and can’t even concentrate on something someone is saying because I’m trying to maintain eye contact (which comes hand in hand with anxiety) to show that I’m present and attentive. Multitasking? It’s a myth. People rope you in, then once they’ve got you, rip you apart.
I’m angry with the god I don’t think I believe in anymore. He didn’t even help a child that needed him because her parents couldn’t be there for her the way she needed. So why would he help an adult who’s supposed to be more capable? I was brought up in a Christian family, so I knew how to pray. But according to some Christians, I obviously didn’t pray the right way, or didn’t have enough faith. The smallest little thing I prayed for, for him to send someone into my room one night to just hold me. I just wanted to be held and feel loved, but apparently that was too much to ask for. So the next person who thinks about sending me an email telling me to just give everything over to God and my life will be better, please, don’t bother. I’ve been down that road and it just caused even more confusion, guilt, shame, and pain.
Most of all, I’m angry with myself. For being the way I am. For feeling the way I am. For being a brat. Life’s not fair. No shit. It doesn’t owe me anything. And on that note, I don’t owe it anything either.