desperate

i’m really intensely depressed, and i don’t know what to do. nothing matters to me anymore. i can hardly think. i don’t care about doing anything at all.

i can’t tell other people what i’m thinking or how often i think about it because then they get worried or they’ll have to do something about it. can’t even tell the people on the hotline because they’ll just call the police on me again.

i just don’t know if i can keep going. i feel like i’m drowning in the pain, and i can’t think about anything else. i can’t do anything else. i don’t know how to make it stop. it’s just making me feel more cynical and resentful every day.

i don’t know if there’s anything anyone can do to help. i don’t know. i can’t tell. i just hurt. i don’t know who to ask for help or even what to ask for.

it’s all just too much. i was supposed to die so long ago. i thought i could just wait to kill myself to be nice to my friends, but i don’t think i’m a good enough person to keep holding out for other people.

i’m officially desperate, i think. i don’t know. i lost something today. i feel its absence. i feel the hole in my chest. i feel the pain of it being gone, physically—chest pain that makes me grab my heart. suddenly, the world is much more empty. or rather, i am much more empty.

i don’t think i care about being nice anymore. i don’t think i care about anything.

― ρ