Why is my self worth & worth to lovers tied so closely to my fiscal success and the ability to physically provide? looking back and reminiscing it pains me to say I’ve had questions surrounding that notion pointed my way even though my job at the time averaged $40 an hour, although it wasn’t a long term investment job. It really fucking hurts you know. I promise I’m worth more than money. Why was money such an important make or break that it overtook anything & everything else I was willing to provide? It hurts so much. Really just makes me want to commit to financial success damning all the rest and disappear forever after the fact is known I made it.
Disappearing after military service gets completed does sound so nice to be honest. I spent all morning crying fantasizing about it and how shitty everything is. It’s weird how suicide seems like such an easy out but I absolutely despise the idea now for myself. After coming so close those years back, I really don’t think I’ll ever attempt again. Suicidal ideation is weird now because death and the idea of it seems so pleasing and like release, yet the joys life brings and the success I want to have literally destroys any notion of wanting to die. Dying before I finish what I want to do is my biggest fear in life now. I guess my “obsession” or ideation about dying now is much more figurative or metaphorical in the sense that I want to distance myself from my past but also move past it and the best way I can see for that to happen is to “kill” myself. My memories, my past, my habits, my name. Anything tied to my past failures. Not necessarily running away. I don’t want to run away. I think healing is a life long process and it’s unique to everyone.
Forgiveness is one of the biggest things to be achieved in order to let go and be happy. Unfortunately forgiveness is not something I offer myself. I’m letting my failures define who I am instead of dictate how I should forge forward in order to succeed. I don’t know how to let go besides erasing who I am and starting anew. I really don’t feel any attachment to anything or anyone currently. Or maybe I do and it’s so strong it scares me so I force it away and suppress it because I’m afraid of all those relationships ceasing to be as well. Things are okay if I end them on my terms, or so I think. I’m not sure yet if it’s the best notion to believe that being “in control” of how things end is actually beneficial to my mental. Things seemed easier when everything was ambiguous and there was still a small flame there. I snuffed that out and the last facades of light are slowly fading from vision and the cavern is going all black. Metaphorical death I think is on the horizon.
You know how even when it’s pitch black you can still determine different depths or shades of darkness ? That’s currently how it feels. Everything around me is dark, & looking toward the future, that horizon I see is even darker. Is darkness really such a bad thing though…? I’m terrified of the dark, but should I be? Imagine being at peace in the dark and while lonely. Imagine finding the ability to remain hopeful or happy when all around you there is nothing but shadows and death. Is the death of who you are and ego really something to be fearful of? The things I like about myself I can always find again. The good things can always be reforged.
I think being able to remain bright and bold when there is darkness lurking that threatens to consume you at a moments weakness is something I’ve failed at before. Maybe it’s not the dark around me that I’m afraid of losing to but the darkness inside me I’m trying to keep from escaping that is shaping my perspective. Maybe it’s a mix of both. There is this core inside I’m trying so hard to keep lit inside of me. I can sometimes almost feel tendrils wrapping around it. I’m wondering how long I have to nurture the Phoenix before it deflagrates the entirety of the darkness inside. I’ve got a suspicion its going to cause a conflagration in my physical life as well and some relationships will be too scorched to salvage at that point.
Does love drive people mad or is it grief? You’d think people would want passionate lovers and friends but passion can turn to obsession and jealously so insanely fast I think passion is the ultimate failure of the human emotion spectrum of left unchecked. I’m so passionate about giving all the love I deny myself to others that when I find them sad or lonely or depressed it becomes my main prerogative in life to let them know they are cherished and loved and appreciated. I will stop at nothing. It’s an insatiable hunger and desire with such intensity. Seeing people light up and their faces change, their auras exuding newfound confidence and hope, their demeanor changing to one of hopefulness. Hearing genuine laughter, noting real smiles. Have you ever noticed people smell differently when actually happy? Seeing this and helping people achieve this brings me such great joy and happiness that is so momentary and fleeting it becomes such a depressive vicious cycle. Imagine doing everything in your power to help someone succeed & then they want to help you and you refuse because you don’t think you deserve it. And eventually they get tired of the constant negativity surrounding you and your inability to do for yourself what you do for others. They leave. Because they don’t want to go back to the place they were before. I don’t want to leave the place I am. They don’t leave me behind, I usher them forward and close the door. Eventually the knocking subsides and I’ll open it back up, only to find nobody there anymore. & I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me.
At some point in the future I will cease to be. I’ll disappear. I won’t want to be found until I can look at myself and not see the sadness and anger lurking inside.
I stay to myself mostly because I am scared i am going to hurt someone. I see it constantly in my head. I just snap. Whether it be for no reason at all, or because someone was threatening me, or someone said something i didn’t like. A life or death situation, a house party, in the middle of a classroom. I scare myself because I know its possible. I don’t know how to stop feeling this way, so I imagine if I was put into those situations I would act how I imagine. I envision it constantly. Murder, assault, heinous acts of violence committed for seemingly no reason than I wanted to do it sometimes. In that very moment I wanted nothing more than to hurt someone. Even if it was for good reason, life self defense, I take it to the next level. I am brutal in another sense. On a different level of reality. People think it stops eventually but it doesnt. I go past turning a head into mush and literally crush the concrete underneath it. I don’t stop, I cant stop. I have this endless pool of rage i tap into and it fuels everything I do. I control it until I snap. I usually restrain it after I’ve had my time and come back to reality. But i don’t know if I’d stop when faced with a stranger. I don’t know if I’d stop when faced when caught on an off day. I wouldn’t stop actually. I know I wouldn’t because i can feel the energy of it. It is unfathomable. Its not possible to know the vastness of it. Its depth. Its reservoirs are constantly being filled past the brim and spilling into every other aspect of my life. It swells like a maelstrom during a thunderous rain. Two currents of seething rage fighting one another to be the dominant force. A fight between mindless, explosive rage and a cold, silent, calculated one. It never stops. Its always there, present in every movement i make, every thought I have, every ounce of my soul. Its there, making its presence known but never taking over. It taunts me, knowing it can overload my senses and turn me primal at any given moment. It knows & it relishes this. It feeds off my fear of what I am capable of. Two different aspects of power forged into one entity, capable of destroying everything in my life. A force so malevolent and vast it blocks out any hope for reason. There is only rage. Only hate. I can feel it slowly encroaching on my sanity. It blots out the sun and casts shadows on the stronghold I have built for myself. I have worked tirelessly to create something beautiful and full of love and hope. But i fear that I have not worked hard enough to counter balance the rage i have inside. This fear only amplifies its potency. Sometimes I fear i will never be able to create enough love to dilute the rage and make it manageable. Splitting it into two separate entities does not strike me as a solid plan. One day I am trying to destroy the world and all who reside in it, the next I am trying to rebuild it. It doesn’t make any sense. The only way this turns out good is if I somehow manage to create and feel enough love I can hold onto and keep it from shattering under the staggering weight and strength of what haunts me. I am not religious in the sense that I follow no religion, but I do believe in higher powers. I believe in God. I just don’t believe that God is all good. If man is made in the image of God, although imperfect, how can these imperfections be so deep and evil. They stem from my soul. I did not willingly create these demons, they just appeared somehow. I did nothing to summon them, nothing to influence them, nothing to cause them to maliciously attack me very being and attempt to corrupt me. How can I be made in the image of god when some aspects of who I am naturally resemble that of Lucifer. Was it just mere chance or was I just doomed from the beginning of time. Maybe I am meant to be an example of contrast between good and evil. The perfect being to showcase the natures of both love and hate. Maybe it is my destiny to be the perfect example of the realities of good and evil. The embodiment of God And Lucifer. Two forces fighting for control of helpless human beings who have no knowledge of what truly goes happens on a higher plane of existence. Perhaps I am special and because of that I am doomed. Made to be a example of for meddling in the affairs of that which I can not hope to understand in full. In my mind i see scraps of information, filtering through archaic nothingness only to stumble on something not meant for my eyes. It is my belief that we are all capable of this. We just don’t understand the nature of ourselves. Once we begin to understand we are destined to be overcome with stark contrasts in emotion and a sense of impeding death that is always around the color. Once we begin to understand we are punished. The living are not meant to understand the shortcomings of human nature, nor are they meant to understand the extent of which we are capable of. We are supposed to be sheep, being shepherd by the religions we follow, the demons we fear, the gods we wonder at in awe. Once we stop being sheep they try to bend us to their will through force. They do everything in their power to break us. Once we break we either kill or kill ourselves. We lose all sense of meaning in this world and turn primal. Our minds liquified into incoherent thoughts, fear, paranoia, rage. We don’t come back from that. It is why I fear myself so much. I am constantly on the brink of annihilation. Of soul crushing defeat. Of committing heinous crimes against my fellow brethren and sisters. Of losing myself in the midst of all that is going on inside my mind. The constant turmoil. Of rage turned hate and solace turned a deep fondness for love constantly contending with one another, vying for the ultimate triumph. I am so very confused and feel myself slipping. I am not sure how much longer my soul can take. It is in constant anguish and I feel this frustration creeping into every aspect of my life. Even of love. I feel like I am losing myself.
I have visions of whats to come. Visions of nothing but loss and anguish. Visions of death and despair. Visions of losing everything only to lose more after.
I see myself holding a gun to my temple while telling my SO I cant do this anymore. I see myself having breakdowns in front of my children and seeing terror on their faces as they wonder in confusion and horror whats wrong with their father. I see myself being divorced. I see myself losing my job and my home. I see myself losing my family. I see myself becoming alienated from the world. I see me losing the last bit of myself I have left. I see me attempting suicide only to fail and try over and over and over again. But I can’t seem to die for some reason. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to just do it right. I fail at that just like everything else in life. I think its punishment for hurting the feelings of others. For being sick. If I wasnt sick then nothing bad would have ever happened. If I wasnt sick I wouldnt have lost so much already. If I wasnt sick I wouldnt have the girl I loved so much leave me. If I wasnt sick I wouldnt be scared of myself and lock myself away from the world out of fear I might snap. I wish I wasnt sick. I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted to be distant. I never wanted to have a raging storm of emotion and an endless crevice of depression lurking under me. I never wanted to not be able to communicate and I never wanted to have the only way I deal with stuff to be to ignore it and bury it. I never wanted any of this.
But I got it. For some God forsaken reason I was chosen for this. I don’t know why. I never will. Somewhere deep inside my head where the voices stem from, there lies a reason. A purpose. A voice that will silence them all. A voice that will silence even my own. A voice that will take over who I am and remake me. Every time I reach for it, the other voices become overwhelming and violent. I start to see people for the demons they are. I see anguish in the eyes of everyone and it just gets so overwhelming and so vast before my meek soul, I crumble and parts of me that have died before die again. I suffer so much for no reason other than to suffer. It makes no sense and I can’t seem to change that. Nothing makes sense. Nothing really ever has. There was a period of about 3 years where 1 thing made sense, but thats all gone now.
I’m all gone now. I’ll be back, just to relive hell once again, and I’ll continue to do so for no other reason than I am meant to. I hate it. But its all I know and I dont know how to learn anything else. Every technique I’ve learned that I’ve tried to apply to my life has failed miserably. No therapy has worked, no meditation has worked, meds only seem to stem the voices from being constant, but they are still there. Mocking and taunting are common occurrences that are random but far in between episodes. I feel so lost in this heavy mist of demons and despair. I feel like I have died and gone to hell, and maybe I am dead. Maybe the reason I’m not getting better is because I am dead and am meant to suffer for eternity now. Maybe that’s why nothing makes sense. The voices i hear are demons, my own voice is a tortured soul, and the once that is locked away is redemption and a way out. That kind of makes sense I guess. In a convoluted and depraved desperation kind of way. But my thoughts are often depraved and my thought process convoluted. And I am desperate. So maybe this is what’s real and I’ve simply been dissociating in order to cope with the reality of my situation. Souls are bound to be complex. It is the essence of what makes us different from one another. Why couldn’t a soul, which is what makes up our conscious and personality, create itself an alternate reality where it runs away to or uses to cope with the distress it suffers from. So maybe I am dead and suffering for eternity and I am simply reliving my life because the suffering I face here is nothing compared to what I am going through currently. Spiritual warfare is an interesting concept I don’t necessarily believe it, but i suppose it could be true. It is no more far fetched than my idea that God is a tyrant who abuses its power and manipulates us all to its own will for its own amusement. I don’t necessarily believe that, because I don’t want to go to hell if there is one, but I think its good to question everything and have alternatives in case everything comes to a spearpoint and turns out to be falsehoods.
Honestly I just want to die. If I am already dead then I want to die again. and again and again and again so I don’t have to feel how I feel anymore. I committed no act so severe to deserve punishment like this. It isnt fair.
I close my eyes and can feel eyes on me. I move and feel hot breath on my neck. I listen and I hear and feel a heartbear that is not my own. I look and feel eyes stare back in malice This is what terror feels like. When sleep does come it wont bring release, only more torment.