i am up writing and erasing and rewriting and reerasing this over and over again with hopes that it even makes sense. i can’t describe the feeling i’ve had and have felt stuck in for the last few weeks; i feel so disconnected and almost lost? if that makes any sense. i don’t feel like a person or like people care about me or that i even exist to some people, almost like a figment of their imagination that they only entertain when they’ve been drowned by boredom. i don’t feel like myself, something is off. my skin doesn’t sit right on my bones, my hair feels dirty even though i scrub and scrub until it falls out, my clothes don’t sit on my frame the way they’re intended to. nothing feels right. and i don’t know why. and my brain is racked with the “what ifs” and the “maybe this is whys” and i still cannot for the life of me fucking place it. i don’t feel okay, it doesn’t matter how many medications i take or what combination of medications i take, it doesn’t matter that i journal my daily mental health, therapy isn’t fuxking helping. so then i’m left with the thought of what’s the point? bc i’ve tried to think of reasons to not justify wanting to take my own life but it feels like every day they dwindle down one by one. i don’t value myself enough to use the excuse “well i’m too much of an assets to take my own life, people will miss me.” what would they miss? the ongoing complaints of me not wanting to live? the constant cycle of having to pick me up and uplift me and attempt to talk me down? the ever so present nitpicking and same old god damned pessimistic demeanor and aura? the answer is no, they would not miss that. they would not be able to say things ab how happy i was and what a tragedy is was for me to die at my funeral bc they all would know it’s what i wanted. i cry and scream and beg for help and it’s like i can’t even put the sheer terror of how much i’m losing myself into words; i try and i try and i try but they get choked up in my throat and it feels like cement hardening and i can’t breathe and i can’t talk and all i do is shut down and hope that someone will just notice that i’m not fucking okay, but what the fuck am i supposed to do when i’m sed aware enough to know that that is what a fool says and thinks bc how the fuck is someone supposed to just know. and when you know it’s not someone’s place to care for you and to mend you and to coddle you. what then? literally what then?? bc there is no fucking answer. there is nothing in this universe that tells you what to do when you’re aware of your patterns and behaviors and you still can’t do anything to stop them so you’re just stuck in this constant cycle of wanting hep and asking for help and it not working and waiting for someone to try to help and not saying anything and then nothing works. so then what?  you cry. you shake. you sob. you lay down. and accept defeat? you lay there with an ongoing and aimless war against yourself and for what? to live another measly pointless 30 or so years until the cancer or dementia or whatever the hell it is that takes me out “naturally” runs its course? what do you do? i don’t know what to do anymore, i received my diagnosis a little over a year ago and it seems like if anything it’s almost gotten worse.