Everything around me is falling apart.
My mom is actively dying.
My relationship is hanging on by a thread.
My mental state is…questionable.
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t focus.
It’s just a constant onslaught of misery and quiet despair.
I feel like screaming.
I want to runaway.
I am doing the bare minimum and feel like such a failure for it, but I literally cannot manage more.

My mom is bedridden. They gave her no more than 3 months.
My half-siblings and I split the caretaking up. It’s hard. I don’t do much. I can’t stomach it.
I feel resentment. I hate that I have to see my mom become a shell of her former self. Each day weaker. Each day, in more pain.
I feel like I’m drowning.
Selfishly, sometimes I wish for her suffering to end. Then I hate myself for thinking that. And am again reminded that once she’s gone, I will truly be alone.

Everyday is static. I WFH, though sometimes I wish I had a reason to step out of the house. 
I know I’m struggling to cope.
I haven’t left my bed is 3 days.
I haven’t slept in 2.
It’s funny, you’d think I was the one dying.

I don’t think I’m suicidal. I just don’t want to exist for a while.
The only thing that helps curb these feelings is self-medication.
I used to hate feeling numb, but I didn’t know better. Anything is better than this.

When the static is too much to bear, I counteract the numbness with pain.
I try to be good about this. I just run for hours - past the point of comfort, where all I feel is tightness in my chest and the burn in my lungs and my legs. A fleeting comfort.

Mostly, I feel overwhelmed yet empty. Sometimes, sad. 
I don’t know who I am anymore.