A Ballad For the Eternally Depressed // Another Sleepless Night

The familiar waters of suicidal thoughts are rising around me once again. My breath is caught in my chest and time around me ceases to exist. The familiar taste of self-hatred is on the back of my tongue, threatening to burn new holes in it. I ache in no ways that no human ever should; Perhaps this is further proof that I'm not human. Familiar longing and daydreams of escaping are once more pouring through my veins, stripping me of any and all rational thought. I'm carried away to lands I will never see and existence that I will never draw breathe in. Sweet torture. Sweet abuse. 

 If these past few years have taught me anything, its that there is no God. There is no point to anything at all. Each moment is just as useless as the next. If death is to be the next greatest adventure I hope it's not such a big fucking disappointment as life has been. Why even wait? What is there here for me? There's no one here for me. All that remains are memories shards of a shattered past and the smell of blood is embedded into everything I touch. 

8.03.17
2:44

Don't even talk to me about sleep. I tossed and turned throughout the few hours that I was trying to sleep. I'm really feeling the urge to re-do my room and clean it. I don't think the neighbours would appreciate me lifting and moving shit at this time, so if the urge is still there I'll probably be doing that after my doctor's appointment today. Doctors, that's just one thing that sets my teeth on edge. It's not the blood. It's not disease. It's not death. It's someone looking over me; like knowing my insides, having all kinds of personal information. I'm just not comfortable with this level of intimacy; especially if it's a doctor I've just met once. This will be my fourth? No, the third visit with Putana. The whole thing makes me just dirty. I know it's what everyone does through when they go to the doctor, I just difficult for me. Maybe it's because of my shyness, maybe it's because I got molested. Maybe it's a little of both. It's probably the shyness more than anything since I've always had this worry about the doctor. 

And I'm on Tumblr watching the minutes turn into hours, looking through mindless shit while Netflix plays in the background. Speaking of Netflix, I've been watching a tonne of shows on there. I'm re-watching the old favourites, Breaking Bad, Dexter, Wilfred and getting into new stuff on there like Gotham, MadMen, then I'm also watching The Detour & Shameless. I've been drawn to more shows than films lately. So much for my list of films I've watched throughout the year by month to see where I was project. I mean, I'm still doing that and will continue doing that, it's just taken a hit the last month with the shows. Also, check out Happy Valley if you haven't and I'm going to be checking out Broadchurch. Oh and the Fall! I'm watching that as well. So much to do, so much other shit to focus on, but don't want to. The struggle is hard. 

3:30 

Fuck all. Laying here in the dark, listening to my heart clanging away in my chest.
You know, they talk a lot about reaching out, communication, stuff like that in therapy and online,

but each time I do I'm ignored. Or my favourite, told to just kill myself or that I'm an attention seeking fuckwit. (That's still my favourite one of all time.) Come on, what the fuck? I mean, even here on this blog people think it's some kind of entertainment or something. It's not. It's me trying to be human, trying to make connections. It's me trying to also show others that they are not alone in their thoughts, which is why I started doing Mental Health Mondays in the first place. I don't know if I'll be doing those much longer. It's just a worthless endeavour. Gotta learn to sever ties sometimes. 

And on another note, something on the same subject, something that's been bothering me. I talked to a mate about suicidal thoughts and she told me I was selfish. That suicide was selfish. What the everlasting fuck is that? I'd like to see her in this kind of emotional pain. Go through a portion of the shit I've been through and then we can talk. What kind of cunt thing is that to say? I wasn't rude about it, even though I wanted to be. Sometimes it's the only thing that people can do or think they can do. I believe it's up to that person and no one else to decide what's right for them. Yes, the aftermath can be devastating, but for me, I think most of the living are selfish. They want to hang onto someone so badly, they don't care how the other is suffering. If you love someone, sometimes the best thing you can do for them is to let them go. This isn't an advocation or anything for suicide so before you start whining like little bitches or getting all butthurt, relax. 

But on a happy note, as a thank you for letting my mate use my Amazon account she got me Inferno! I was dying to see the film in the cinema, but for whatever the reason I couldn't, so yes! VICTORY!! I'm probably going to end up watching it this afternoon while I'm planning out some tour things, editing DWD blogs and while working on my novel. 

One day I will sleep under pastel rainbow coloured clouds. 

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