I still can't see your face without feeling a pang.

Why do I miss you so much,  these last couple days.

Always on days I want to die more than others. 

You are a reminder, an example, of what a terrible person I am. I will never be right, or good, or good enough. For people like you.

I don't trust anybody wants to stay. I get so tired of trying.

Today I am so tired of trying.

It doesn't immobilize me anymore. It's just a state of perpetual being. 

I keep thinking of I hear the right thing from doctors then it'll mean it's not my fault.  But it is. It is it is it is. I won't be a different person. A new diagnosis doesn't keep me from being such a piece of shit. 

Just so fucking tired of trying to convince myself otherwise.

Start.

Start over.

Again.

When nothing matters. Still.

Days like these- all I want to do is die.

Life has a way of persisting.

 people who have not been raped have a way of sleeping

Today I carry you. I've put you in my purse and all the pockets. It's heavy on my shoulders.  My back becomes curved. But I will still get up.

Shower

Brush teeth

Sigh as often as I need to.

Today I believe everything you say. 

Take medication

It's only a chemical thing

In the way that everything that happens in my body is a chemical thing.  Smiling breathing reading crying. Just a series of chemical reactions.

It doesn't make me believe you any less.

I made this decision and living with the consequences just makes it hard to breathe sometimes. 

I have conversations in my head with you. It's always been better than the real thing.

I find myself thinking about it obsessively. Pick up a knife and wonder at how sharp it is. Stare at my skin as if I'll see the arteries beneath.

Walk across bridges and try to calculate the injuries from the fall. If I'll make it. When I was younger there weren't as many guard rails.

Stare at pill bottles. Would I pass out before I finished swallowing them all? Would I throw up from all the water or alcohol?

You don't ask me how I am anymore.

I try to stop wishing you would.

She wanted to be a whisp of smoke. 

Not a body to find. 

No frightening story to retell at parties.

No puke and bloating and soiled thing left alone too long.

No smell that never left the room.

A whisp of smoke.  

Thinner and thinner,

And just fade away into nothingness

I am

Aimless

There is a difference between people who care and people who don't.

I don't know what's real.

I do know that all I need is to say it out loud and then I can let it go. 

So I say out loud the things that are bothering me. The stories in my head.  

And one responds with the truth that my presence is annoying. And one ignores me and I blame myself. And I believe my worthlessness. And I shut down. And I do not feel safe saying things out loud anymore. And letting him go makes me wish for death every day.

And two says these things in your head, they are not real. Two says I would be so depressed if we stopped being friends. Two also says if this is hurting you, we should stop talking. And I do not know what to believe. I feel safe continuing to say things. And it feels easier to let him go. I do not know what to believe.

And three I do not say the things out loud at all. And letting him go feels like  being abandoned by my family. And he doesn't realize when he hurts me. And that just makes everything worse.

I'm trying not to isolate. I am succeeding. 

My therapist thinks I am getting better. I do not tell her I stay up all night in my car and cry and wish for death. I do not tell her that I do worse and worse in school. I do not tell her I've moved past wanting and I try to figure out how to do it.

And I shower and I sleep and I start taking vitamins again. And I start taking medication again. I do not know what to believe.

I can't be alone with my thoughts

I feel so fucking alone.

If I keep myself busy I won't notice how easy it is to lose people.

I am only losing the ones that don't serve me anymore. That's gotta be okay.

I have to let everything be okay.

They're outside my door. I'm pretending to be asleep. So fucking glad I took sleeping pills.

It takes two in any kind of relationship. Two people working at friendship.  2 people to lose it. I'm still mourning my friend.

My therapist thinks I'm better. She says I have more energy.

When I lay in bed every night,  I still wish I was dead. I don't feel further away from it. I feel closer to it.

I don't know what's wrong.  Why it's so broken in there. What's missing.  It's like every new thing stacks on top and it feels like that's the big thing but there's so many big things that came before. 

Self fulfilling prophecy. Maybe it's just taking me longer than I expected. 9 months,  9 years.  It all ends the same. I'm just grieving ahead of time maybe. I managed to push the writing group away. Pushed away childhood friends. They'll ask me why I didn't sleep. I don't have answers. It's like there's a hole and something is missing and I have no idea what it is. Do I want family? They're there if I want. Parents keep trying to make a connection. Is it friends? I could make new friends. Just feels like so much emotional labor. Being there for people who are never going to be there for me. Caring about people who are never going to care about me. It's not about me.  They can't. Everyone is dealing with their own life. I'm the broken one for needing. But that's what therapy is for, right? To figure out how to be okay. I'm supposed to believe that at some point I'm not going to feel this way anymore. I'm supposed to remind myself that these are just thoughts.

Maybe it's time to go through my crisis list. Laying here crying isn't doing any good.

This is when I'm supposed to notice that maybe things are not going in a good direction. Staying up past midnight on purpose, inappropriate sex, wanting to reach out to people and changing my mind and choosing to isolate instead. Making plans to throw away opportunities that are given to me.  Not letting people help me. Here is an opportunity to do things differently.

Today could be the first day of the rest of my life if I don't screw all this shit up... like I always do...

 I started counting my words again. As if there's a magic number and if I don't go over it, I won't say the thing that pushes everyone over the edge. You can't unsay a thing. You can't unlearn a thing. You think you want to know, but you don't. 

He-

Don't say the me. Stop at rape and it didn't happen to me. I wasn't there. There's still an alibi I can use. It was a thing that happened. It had nothing to do with me. There was no me in that room. those rooms. 

Don't say the raped. Stop at he and don't say anything else. If you stop at he, the world doesn't blow up. The floor doesn't cave away and already everything has been taken so maybe all that's left is a floor. Stop at he and it didn't happen and there's a floor to stand on. A place. to stand. to breathe. to collect myself. Stop at he and you never have to defend the words or explain or give details or wring yourself out to placate someone else's feelings. 

Stop at he and it happens again. Happens to someone else. Stop at he and everything that happens anyway will still be my fault.

They-

Don't say the me. Stop at believe and they might still have found a way to love me. There's still a way to separate one thing from the other. Don't say the me and there's no impossible choice. No decision to make because the thing that didn't happen has nothing to do with me.

Don't say the believed. Stop at the didn't and it doesn't have to make anyone question their faith. Can be a grocery item list to check off. Nothing has happened yet. Nothing ever happened and so there is nobody to blame anything on or ask anything of. No choice to make means there's no wrong choices.

 Because talking to you hurts a little. Leaves me a little wounded. Just when I think you are something I can get over, I don't.

I seek out people who can't love me so I can prove to myself that I am unlovable. It's a lot of pressure to put on someone. Just one more reason why I don't belong here. or anywhere.

 I'm the person who says "Let's hang out soon" not the one it's said to.

I'm the person you fit in because you think you have to but the real celebration happens before and after. I'm not the person who is invited to the party.

If I take enough drugs, and see enough specialists, will it make things feel less alone? Will I feel less unlovable. Unlikeable. Un everything.

We show people how to treat us. What did I do to make me such a terrible person?

And I am.

My therapist says she cannot continue to treat me. Says there's not much she can do for me. Says I have to go into a hospital or she'll refer my case out. I think "don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry" but I still do.

What a relief it will be not going to therapy for a while. Until I break again, as I am oft to do. Which of course means she's right. I clearly need more help than any one person can provide. 

There was this story I told myself.  About how maybe it was okay my family kicked me out.  That they chose my brother over me.  That I was made to feel so unlovable. Because I had found community elsewhere.

And now that community is gone. And there's just me. And maybe I will always be unlovable.

Maybe my therapist is not over reacting. Maybe she sees something I don't. If I had the money,  I would go into a hospital. 

 She would say being suicidal was just a matter of fact like having a surname or identifying the color of your skin. It was a thing that was always there but you learned to live with it, or in spite of it. "It's not like I would ever actually do it" she'd say rolling her eyes while I held my breath. 

Being with her was like always holding my breath. Like the time we went on a boat and it moved from underneath me when I was trying to climb off and I almost fell in the water. Like trying to be an anchor for both of us, like struggling to not take on too much water.

I've laid in bed all night and haven't been able to sleep.

I want to erase you from my life because I've never mattered in yours.

I'm doing such a good job of trying to erase everyone from my life.

Weak attempts at connection trail off. There's nothing here to stay for.

I'm trying to be someone who doesn't need. I'm trying to be someone I need.

I missed therapy. 

Depressive episode continues.  But milder than normal.  Medication helps.

I think. 

I have to remember to write when I cry. It helps.  I can sleep now. 

She said remind yourself that things are different now. 

I don't want to be here

     Things are different now

Dying would be easier

      Things are different now

Dying would be harder

      Things are different now. 

I am spoiled milk kept in the fridge long past the expiration date. As I am oft to do.

I'm careless like that

Should have been thrown out long ago

Can't unspoil milk.

She asks me how I'm feeling and tells me spoiled milk and careless are not feelings. She says feelings are physical.  They can be localized in your body.

Like sad is in your chest when you know you're the problem.  You're always the problem, so you try to make your heart smaller. To feel less and care less and you squeeze until it hurts.

Like angry is in your throat when you know nothing you say will matter so why bother saying anything at all.

Like resigned is in the shoulders when you know you don't matter,  you'll be gone eventually so you carry resigned like a backpack and you fill it with only the essentials: as many books as you can carry

 and you stay gone as much as you can.

Things are different now

-- maybe I was meant to be cheese

We used to have the same argument over and over again.  How do you expect me to believe in God when God isn't real.  I forget what she used to say. I was too committed to my atheism. Something about how there was all this evidence of God's existence and I was choosing to believe God wasn't real. But evidence is only evidence of you believe its evidence. 

I wish I could reach out and ask her, but you're supposed to stay gone when someone lets you go. It's impolite to do otherwise. Some days being polite is all I have left in me to be.

Let's just not.

You seemed like you had a lot going on

I don't want to do this anymore

You were just kidding and i took it personally. I've been careless before with my body. I don't want to do that again. I don't want to have sex with someone who's first response to "I have more uncomfortable questions" is "look at the time,  I have to go"

This is why a relationship like this doesn't work for me. Am I talking to my friend or the guy who's using me for sex? The guy I'm using for sex. And if I'm talking to my friend,  knowing you don't want to talk to me hurts. And if I'm talking to that guy,  I shouldn't be (don't want to be) letting myself get into such intimate moments with someone like that. 

So let's just not.