Warning...

All content contained within should be restricted to those over-age. Occasionally, suicide and self-harm are mentioned and readers should take care to ensure they are in a safe place - emotionally and physically - before reading. Comments are welcome.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Sigh... FFS, not again...

I'm clammy.  And hot, even though the air conditioner is on.  I have a massive headache, though that's nothing new.  Chest pains, can't breathe - you'd think I was having a heart attack, though we all know better.

And after hours of this...

I want to live.  I want to travel.  I want to play on the beach with my kids.  I want to watch them grow up, and take care of them while they do.  I want to tend my house, and play the 50's housewife while kicking the arse of anyone who tells me I should because I'm a woman.  I want to play sport, and go on bushwalks, and climb rocks.  I want to read books, and listen to music and write.  I want to show my kids the world, even if it's just the world in our little town.  I want to work and I want to play and I want to LIVE.

And I want to die.  Right fucking now.

Hope is what gets us through.  It is what we hold on to in desperation, when things get bad.  Hope that tomorrow (figuratively speaking) will be better.

But my tomorrow won't be better.  Indeed, my tomorrow is going to be worse.  And the day after that, and the day after that.  The things that concern me - the things that get me "down" - the things that I can't live with - they are all here to stay.  It's no longer a case of hanging around until the solution dawns upon thee - but of having to choose - live like this, or die.

I don't think I ask too much.  A little compassion.  A little respect.  Enough money for a roof over my head, food, health care.  I live in one of the most prosperous countries on Earth, or I wouldn't be arrogant enough to ask for this much.  Every day I have been able to, I've worked, and when I haven't been able to find employment, I've done volunteer work.  I've done the best I can.  I've been the best person I can.  I've stuffed up sure, but I've always apologised.  Made amends.  Done the best I can.

I TRIED.  I tried fuck it.  It's not like I didn't bust my arse, trying to make it work.

I can't do this any more.  Because deep down I'm still tortured by the past.  One liners that speak to forgetting the past are crap - it's not memories that you have to worry about.  It's the physical consequences.  And anyone who doesn't know what they are should just shut the fuck up about it.  Because one liners tend to lead to us feeling like crap for not being a fucking superhero and "getting over it".

I want life.  Just not this one.  Thanks, but this one is broken, and after 20ish years, I've realised that it just can't be repaired..  I'll be taking the refund.  There are no exchanges here.

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