I’ve pretty much always had it in the back of my head that I’ll kill myself someday.
Not necessarily like, now. Not at any set, specific time. More an inevitability, like just death itself. I think I just don’t see myself as having the endurance to wait around for that. Every year, twice a year - around now, and around my birthday - I tend to fall into bad depressions. They happen otherwise, of course, but the really bad ones tend to be around now. Twice a year, for the rest of my life. I dunno.
I think I’m just really tired. And the longer it goes on, the more tired I am of it. Seeking support. Doing the work to get better. Waiting for the bad times to pass. Trusting, hoping. It takes energy. It burns energy. A part of me, hoping in the back of my head for some huge, spontaneous change, knowing that doesn’t happen and knowing I don’t have the wherewithal or motivation or bravery to push things myself.
I don’t want to talk to more therapists. I don’t want to upheave my life, exercise, look for more or different work. I’m lazy, or I’m tired, or both, take your pick. I want to lay down and not worry about waking up again. Of course there are things I care about, look forward to, people I love, but more and more I’m just too tired anyway.
Even doing suicide responsibly takes work. I mean, I really ought to at least clean my apartment and get my affairs in order, write some notes and shit, right? Nonetheless, actually getting the tools to do it. But even all of that is a lot of effort, and if I had that energy, I like to think I wouldn’t want to put it to this. Is that irony? I dunno.
It’s next to impossible to buy barbituates and helium tanks are usually cut with air, both for savings and as a safety measure for people like me who might use it for suicide. Fuckers. I don’t know.
Like I said. I’m tired.
