To Live or Not to Live, that is the eternalish question

I can’t decide.

If I want to live on this earth any longer.

I’m sorry but…what advantages are there truly?

I no longer feel truly connected to any human here…or anything at all.

For moments I can connect and absorb and want to sing…but right now the lows are encompassing and fully soak me in desires and thoughts of not living.
Let me…interpret myself for you.It is a peace.

To not have to live, means that the thing I’ve worked hardest for in life has come to fruition.

I’ve achieved the life goal, and now I can end life.

I’ve wanted it for so long that this is not a provocation or a cry for help.

Imagine if I were 106 and this were happening.

People would gather and say it was my time. People would accept I had lived enough life to die and feel no sense of it affecting their lives since I had been in them long enough.

I’d no longer be a threat to the idea of dying early, or a threat to the idea that we should want to live.

Well I’ve lived a long life…at least if feels that way.

To me, what used to stop the idea of suicide was that I don’t know what happens after we die.
Since I don’t know it could be I just repeat this life.
That thought scared me so much I decided not to do it.
Fear has ruled my entire life and now I can feel it. There is so much pain today that I think I have reached the depths of it.
This is the hidden pain I never faced down to the inner layers.
And it’s fucking wicked, and no one knows how to talk me out of it. I talk to people and they just give fucking advice and say to keep going and I’ll get through it and all of these responses they’ve been told to say.
Where is the connection?
Do people not know how to connect anymore?

Are we so

I just want someone to connect to. I feel at a disconnect from life and am so utterly aware of it that living…I don’t want it. Obviously I felt this same way upon the chirping of birds this morning and am still alive.

I think I’ll continue living…but there’s still scars to scrape open and the healing …. I don’t know how long this healing will take, but I’m not wanting to look forward into it.

P.S. If you are a first time viewer to this blog I request you begin at the beginning

Posted 30th September 2015 by A Box of Chocolates ExperimentLabels: adhdAinsley Daschofskyexistencefoodlifeocdpsychologysuicide 1 

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  1. Jeremiah GraySeptember 30, 2015 at 8:27 PMI had this ex. She was 70% happy with life and 90% ready to smash her brain in to stop the thoughts. 

    But both aspects weren’t aware of the other. 

    So she’d tell me she spent all day smashing her skull with the brunt of her fist, hidden beneath golden hair. Black blue and yellow make for a beautiful flag I guess. But anyways, she’d tell me these things and I’d get upset. You shouldn’t do these things I’d say. There are other methods of release. 

    And she’d retort, I only hurt myself and it’s my choice. Why do you care?

    And I’d like to say I had a brilliant response. But I didn’t. I had this notion that I cared for her well being. That I wanted her to overcome the painful thoughts that required the brutal simplicity of pain to placate. 
    And I did. 

    But the more she did it the less I cared. 
    I would put up a token fight. But I’d move on. Because I couldn’t change another. I had not the words nor the power to do so. 

    But I hated it. I hated that her happiness was mine and she was stealing it from both of us. Greedy I suppose but not unjustly I think. 

    I hated her past that led her to hate her present. 
    I can’t fight memories. 

    But yeah, so the loathe/love dichotomy wasn’t aware of the other. So when in either extreme, she couldn’t fathom the other was possible. 

    It’s even harder to fight an absence of memory. 

    So I don’t really have words of encouragement or what have you. 
    I know my life would be emptier without you in it. 

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