 

(English is not my first language, sorry if I make any mistakes)

I have no idea why I am writing this! It makes no sense to bitch and moan about my problems to Internet strangers, but I just can't handle having this inside of me and having no-one to just shut up and listen! Allow me to share a little bit of my story, please? Call it my farewell to arms in a way!

I had my first mental breakdown in 2018 after a painful break up, my best friend suicide and having a bout with alcoholism which caused me to be admitted in a psychiatric hospital for the first time. After 34 days at the looney bin, I was first diagnosed with bipolar, ptsd and depression at the tender age of 23. Since that first mental breakdown, I've been admitted once again in psychiatric ward last year after I attempted suicide (it was close) and I lost control over my life ever since. I can't focus on my college classes and can't handle the simplest jobs, If it wasn't for my government giving me a very, very small pension that in a month will the turned into a invalid retirement fund I wouldn't have any income.

I've been fighting a loosing war against this conditions: depression, ptsd due to sexual abuse when I was a kid, and the ups and downs. I've quit drinking and smoking weed entirely after my first admission at the hospital, I've been on all sorts of medication, I've tried every sort of psychological treatment and therapies, I even tried religious rituals (more to please my parents than for actually believing). I am just too tired of fighting, I am too tired of living day after day and having nothing to show but college debt, loneliness and scars from self harming.

Is this all that I can expect from life? Poverty, misery, brutally painful flashbacks and a stigma of people thinking I am insane due to my mental illnesses, prejudice against my bisexuality and such low self esteem that I literally feel like a burden on everyone else? That doesn't sound very fair to me, but again, I don't think life is supposed to be fair, right?

All comes down to that magic bullet, the exit button that is always hunting me. Last time I tried to commit suicide I used sleeping pills, a shit tone of them, and I barely escaped, this time I have my grandpa old 38 revolver and one single round of ammunition. I am not saying I'm gonna do it, but knowing that it exists! That there's a way out, it really helps, it gives me a North, makes me feel less helpless in knowing that, for everything I can't control, I can control the way out!

It feels like I am already dead, a ghost! A husk of the man I used to be before my mental breakdown. I have no friends, no family besides a borderline afflicted mom and a pathological liar of a dad, I don't feel passion for anything anymore, I don't have ambitions of goals, I don't have anything to my name, no pride or self love left, I honestly hate myself with every fiber of my being, to the point that every waking moment is a struggle and I can only find peace after taking midazolam and falling asleep. I am running out of excuses to continue alive!

Thank you for reading!