I’m having to tag along with my partner when she goes to work because she doesn’t feel safe leaving me alone. Which says all you need to know, really.
Anyway. Spent today in A&E because heart palpitations, chest pains and shortness of breath. Six hours and nothing to show, but hey, I’m not dying. Had an ECG and chest xray so everything bad has been ruled out. Which is good. I think.
I hate myself. I hate my brain. I hate that I’m sober. I hate that I can’t go throw up. I hate that nobody will let me self destruct in peace and I hate that I don’t care any more about living or dying or all the rest, I want to crash and burn out, exit in a blaze – not of glory – but of something. I want to feel something that isn’t pain.
Pain, or the mindnumbing mundanity of day to day life. The ridiculous tedious frustrating nothingness of simply continuing to breathe as though it’s supposed to mean something.
Sorry, seem to have turned into an angsty misanthrope. Realistically, I’m just angry and probably bored.
Thing is, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to fix it. I can’t be busy enough. I can’t escape unless I’m blind drunk or vomiting or self harming when for the most fleeting of instants I feel present. Feel something acute and immediate.
By the way, profoundly suicidal right now. Which kind of makes sense, given everything I’m talking about in this post. Can you blame me?
I’m talking too much.