I need to be open and honest. I have nothing left to give to the world, nothing to contribute. All I can do now is give you my honesty. If I died, I’d want to be remembered for my truth, for speaking and sharing the things that others were too afraid to say. Having grown up in an Asian family, hiding and repressing things became second nature; it is partially the reason for my current distress. I understand now that I become a hazard to myself when I am not writing, I begin to internalise everything. I sink into myself and so the pain becomes magnified, it consumes my being and becomes whole.
I’ve been struggling more than ever this past month. I’ve always been able to fight through the pain because it usually comes in waves. It’s always manageable even when it’s overwhelming, but this time it’s too intense. It’s a different kind of dejection. I wake up everyday wanting the day to be over. I don’t leave the house, I don’t get dressed. I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t even talk to myself anymore. I keep seeing old pictures of the person I used to be. I recognise how much I’ve lost and it hurts more than the sadness. I used to be compassionate, affectionate, energetic, hopeful. People would always tell me that they remembered my positive energy. But I’ve lost it all. I’ve lost the things that contributed to my being. It’s almost like my body has run out of capacity and these things have just vanished over time.
I don’t enjoy anything. Nothing makes me feel good. There is no pleasure, no happiness, no stillness. My life has no purpose. There is no reason to wake up and whilst I’d love to find meaning in the things that I used to love, I can’t concentrate or feel connected to anything. I’m so withdrawn from reality, from myself. I don’t care about anything or anyone. I’ve lost faith and hope in the world, it was supposed to get better but all I do is spend every waking moment attempting to divert my attention from suicide. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m just trying to make it through the day.
The most difficult thing is knowing that I want to get out of this wretched oblivion more than anything, but not being able to. I need to see my psychiatrist to get the dosage of my medication increased but I’ve been putting it off because I’m terrified of them making me entirely numb again. It takes away my ability to write which is the final part of myself. Without that, I really am nothing.
I’ve been thinking about moving abroad somewhere, anywhere. I thought it would just be running away, but I’ll never be able to get away from myself. I think that’s the hard part, feeling trapped wherever I go. I don’t even know what I’m writing or saying anymore, I’m always too terrified that I need to censor my words in case some long lost relative finds this and reports back to the Asian network and makes it common knowledge that I want to die.
I live in a cycle of paranoia but I guess that just comes with being a part of an Asian family. I’m in this strange kind of limbo where I’m not dead but not really alive either. Everything is a blur, I don’t know what day it is, I don’t know what time it is. I don’t even know which month we’re in. I haven’t been exercising, I haven’t been shopping, I haven’t even been putting on makeup and I can barely look at my reflection. All I’ve been doing is eating chocolate as a means of finding some sort of spiritual purpose.
I’m so exhausted all of the time. Anxiety used to give me a rush of adrenaline; it would allow me to run for hours until there was no energy left in my body. Now I’m too sad and it overwhelms the anxiety so there is just a chronic state of indolence. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I feel like a failure. I worked so hard at university, I worked myself into oblivion at my job and I don’t know how I ended up here. I wanted a career; I wanted to do something that mattered. I wanted to make change; I wanted to be remembered for my greatness. I wanted to write, I wanted to finish my novel, I wanted people to read my words and find themselves amid the spaces. I just wanted to be somebody. I don’t want any of it anymore. I just don’t want to be alive.
I just want to shed every part of myself in an attempt to reincarnate my being. I just want to get out of my own body. I just want to stop listening to the narrative in my mind. I have to medicate myself to exist; I have to medicate myself to sleep. What kind of life is this? I didn’t ask to be alive and I think that’s what makes me so angry. I’m fighting for nothing. I don’t owe it to anyone to continue my existence. I don’t owe anything to the world and yet I’m still here. I feel like I’d be doing everyone a favour if I just left and I think the need for that is almost stronger than my own desire to leave. I feel like an anchor, I feel like I’m upsetting everyone that gets close to me. I just want this to be over already. I want to stop disappointing people. I want to stop feeling like such a burden.
The only barrier between myself and death had always been God, but even He doesn’t have that power anymore. I’ve tried to be a good person, I’ve donated to charity, I’ve helped others, I’ve only ever tried to project positivity into the universe so I’m worthy of good karma. I’m worthy of a life better than this. My therapist once said to me that I deserved to live a happier existence, and I understand this now. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to find normalcy. If ever there was a time to say that I’d hit rock bottom, it would be now. I’m 25 years old and I can’t trust my own mind. When I feel myself really sinking, I have to immediately leave the room and sit with somebody else because I lose all control of my mind and it isn’t safe to be alone. I become a hazard to myself.
Today I just wept until my body had nothing left to give and I’ve realised that when I post something on social media, it’s the utmost cry for help. It’s when I reach the peak of desperation. If you know me in any capacity, you’ll know that I’m a fairly private person. I don’t talk much about my personal life, about my friends, about myself. With that in mind, you’ll be able to recognise just how difficult it is to publicise this. But I have to write here because I need to desperately try and attempt to leave my own head. I must get out of my body. It sounds crazy, I read my words sometimes and it sounds like they’re stemming from the voice of a neurotic stranger. But I don’t recognise my own self. I thought this was some kind of identity crisis, but it’s just a struggle to remain alive. I keep pushing everyone away, because I don’t know how to ask them to stay. I don’t know how to tell people that I need them because I’m so used to doing this alone.
I’m writing this because I just feel an intense kind of sad today and I know that it’s safer to be here writing. I just wanted a normal life. I wanted to do normal adult things. I wasn’t asking for much, I’ve never asked for much. I keep having aggressive debates with God and I don’t even know if He’s listening anymore. I feel trapped in this cycle, and I keep watching everyone else moving around me and I don’t want to be here. I thought I was making progress, I was. I just lost everything. I lost myself and I don’t know how I’m supposed to salvage that. How do you become yourself again? How do you try and get back in touch with the person that you used to be? How do you regain your confidence? How do you become yourself again?
I don’t know what else to say but that I’m sorry that you have to read this, I feel sickened and disgusted at myself for sharing this, for writing that I want to die when so many innocent civilians are being killed all over the world. It makes me hate myself for wanting death, but if I could switch places with them, my god, I would do so in a heart beat. I’m not really here, everything is a distant dream and I just want to move out of this state of purgatory. I just want to move forward, or die. I’ll take either. I just hate being in this space where I don’t know who I am and everything is dark and I can’t see or recognise my own palms.
I won't be editing or proofreading this post so please do forgive me for any typos. Thank you.