going past 38

some days it's terribly unbearable.

i've very little will to live right now. every single action is laborious. having to stand up feels like trying to get up from the rubble of a collapsed building. having to walk feels like a trail of burning charcoal lay ahead of me. having to speak feels like forcing myself to vomit the ingested pills as an out from my lame attempt for never waking up ever. even merely letting time pass is taxing. i wish i had a real choice.

it's much harder in my head. i look at my inbox full of unread messages from people that either care or who are warm enough to reach out, and i can't bring myself to open them because it means having to be congenial and engaging. that takes brain power. i'm already exhausted enough as it is. not that i don't want these people in my life. i appreciate them a hell of a whole lot, i just don't want to give them anything less than worthwhile. and really i can't help it, i'm a people pleaser.

i want to go on hiatus with life. like just be in suspended animation. not death. i like living even when it's bad so long as my psychosocial disability isn't killing me. by default, time for myself is the go-to activity, but that too is just as agonizing. nothing effectively numbs me to the unreasonable pain of having the wrong brain chemistry.

i really want to believe that these things aren't real. that it's just a matter of me not praying enough to a higher being, or not being loved enough by family, or i'm not downing enough bottles. i hate having a seemingly invisible deformity. you can't simply tell something's wrong by merely pointing a sensor to your head. i hate having let others deal with how insufferable i can get despite looking absolutely normal except from my stupid face. i don't hate pretending though. i'm fine with it. i can do it, but i just can't keep doing it and expect that i have enough sanity to get myself until my next meal.

but if i must, i'm willing to put on a mask. i heard they save lives.

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