A little preamble on this. I wrote the first two lines of this in 2013 when I started to feel suicidal again. It felt like a huge step back for me. I honestly don’t know much about depression and anxiety. I was diagnosed when I was a child and put on Zoloft for about a year and when on the medication I felt either numb or severely suicidal. So I stopped. I stopped taking the medication and for a while I struggled with my insecurities, anxieties and depression but it was manageable and over time I felt like I had entered a better place. I still had crippling insecurities and anxiety but my depression was much less of an issue.
Fast forward to 2013 and it started to rear it’s ugly head again. It’s been five years now and I recently have hit a peak in my emotions and it really tossed the balance out the window. I am not sure if I will be able to love myself. Part of me wants to try and looks for reasons to live. Another part of me finds each of those reasons excruciating because that part wants to die. The obligations, connections and logic behind living is traumatic. Another barrier to finding peace in not existing.
When I wrote these two lines I assumed that I did love myself. That that’s why I was struggling so much with killing myself. But now I know that I don’t love myself and maybe that’s okay. I thought about slitting my wrists length wise and then shooting myself. So that even if I miss my brain stem I’d bleed to death. I googled the best way to shoot myself to ensure that’d I die. I found some forums discussing it but with platitudes about not hurting yourself and it start the hum of disassociation in me. That I didn’t want read or hear about being safe or better. On my third search result I read an article about a woman named Christen McGinnes and she saved my life this morning.
I love you, me
Then why don’t I want to breathe
I love you, me. So why don’t I want to breathe? So obsessed with doing right by people but I’m not doing right by me. I’m not doing right by me. I’m not holding true any of my principles and philosophies. I’m begging you to hold on, please. But it be can’t her and it can’t them. It has to be me. I love you, me. I want to love you, me. Let me hold you and make still this heart attack.