Posted at 4:56 PM 0 comments (+) I am feeling positively macabre today. I can make jokes about how I wished my parents were physically abusive, because then it would be infinitely more justifiable for me to go ahead and kill myself. And I'd have something to show for all the pain. I don't even care.

I got up and left the house again today, just like I always do when I am aggravated by the adults at home. It's definitely better than staying right there with the aggressor and letting all the emotions stew, because I honestly don't know what I will end up doing by this point. I am so far gone.

Then, as I was putting on my shoes my parents speak in whispers that are perfectly loud enough for me to hear, about how I seem to go out about two or three times a week, which led my mother to the conclusion that I was seeing someone. I almost laughed, if not for the fact that I wanted to strangle them both for being so ridiculous. If only my leaving was something as simple as being in a relationship.

I am always struck by how completely oblivious my parents (my parents!) can be; as if life at 23 is just about getting a boyfriend and sneaking around behind your parents' backs to go on a date with him. Lord, how I wished that was my biggest problem. How I wished it was not because if I stayed at home any longer I might start to think about killing myself again. How can they have such one-track minds?

When I was younger, I used to be able to leave the house every single day, in order to avoid my mother. I simply couldn't bear being in the same living space as people who aggravated me so much, at least not while they are awake. Now I'm a few years older and quite a heck lot more depressed, and I no longer have the kind of energy to drag myself out of bed every morning to leave the house. So more often than not, I stay at home and I deal with the feelings of guilt and inadequacy that they cast on me, until some kind of a breaking point. It's not even about the anger now as much as trying to feel like a human again. How do I explain it? I don't even feel like a human at home at times, and if I don't physically get away from that space I would be dead by next morning.

People are so funny. They go around posting on their social media about World Suicide Prevention Day and all kinds of shit like that, encouraging people to open up about their problems. But when you actually do, you'll find that people don't want to talk about it. It makes them uncomfortable; they dance around the topic, tiptoe around you, pretend it's not there, simply because it is easier to not deal with it. I can see it in my friends' eyes sometimes, in the rare occasion that I casually bring it up in conversation, most of them completely shut down - because they don't know what to tell you, they'd rather not hear it. I can't and don't even blame them. It's just really funny to me.

It is so frustrating and hurting that I cannot have a simple place of rest. I don't want to do anything, or get a job. Why can't I just do that; lie in bed and pretend like I'm dead? It's not even like I spend money that way. I get out of bed very late on most days, because when I wake up and I think about how there's absolutely no purpose in doing that, I wonder why not just keep lying in bed? What is there for me to do anyway? I have nothing and I don't even care.

I really feel a dire need to stay away from home for a few days, but I really have nowhere to go. It's too exhausting playing this game. I am honestly just alive because it is too troublesome to kill myself.

Honestly, I don't even care what people want to tell me about life. I don't really care who's going to be sad if I'm dead and what's going to get better and etc. This has been such a long, lone road (lord, how many years has it been? Who even knows anymore?) that I will never believe anyone genuinely gives a shit.

All people know is to tell me "don't kill yourself" but I'm the one doing all the work in trying to keep myself alive. Y'all don't even respond when I call for help so why do you want me alive tbh.