(I didn't really know where to put this, so I'm posting it here. Might be triggering.)







It’s been so long and hard of a road I just don’t know how I can do it anymore. I’m so weak. I tried so hard to hold it together. The few people left in my life say I’m the strongest person they know. They say it’s because I never give up, I just get up and do it all over again the next day. I’ve tried to explain that I only do it because I know the alternatives are worse. I’ve been to that place. I’ve seen and done that. It cost me so much I barely managed to keep going. I’m not strong enough anymore. I don’t know how to make them understand. I’ve reached out for help from them and they just respond with “stay strong”.

Staying strong is the problem though. I stuff my emotions constantly. My mother taught me how because that’s all she does, too. I’ve done it all my life. Now I feel like I run through my day with all my feelings grabbing at my feet, trying to trip me, to pull me down. I can’t express how much I hate my life. I am so alone, yet surrounded by people. I plink away at my tasks in the day to day grind only to find that there’s no real relief on the other side of any of it. There is no rest to be had, no solace to be granted. There is only reality, only this. I am unable to escape, because that would mean I would abandon my child in this God-forsaken place. I have no choice but to stay because she can’t leave. Her mother loves making life difficult, punishing me for rejecting her, I guess. Either that or I’m as horrible as she says. I have to remember that despite the anger, rage and utter helplessness I still have love in my heart. I am not yet a monster, though I feel like I am.

I have to remember that is a lie.

I love an idea of life, not life itself. All I’ve ever wanted was stability. I’ve never experienced that, not even as a child. Everything is constantly changing. It’s not even evolution, it is devolution. My life has been in a constant state of entropy for as long as I can remember, with fits and starts of growth only to be dashed by tsunami waves of tragedy and suffering. I wash away with everyone around me, drowning in my own emotions and theirs, unable to get any air. Sometimes when it hits me all at once letting go is so attractive, the only way I can achieve peace. I can only stand it for five minutes at a time. I let go and let myself feel again. The pain is so intense but it feels right for some reason. It feels like death, even though I know it’s not. Why do I equate peace with feeling like I’m dying? I’m not done yet.

Why did all this have to happen the way it did? The most important people in my life, all in crisis, all at the same time. I can’t save any of them. They don’t want to be saved, are committed to their choices, or have no choices at all. I can’t protect anyone, not even my own child. I hate myself so much for that. I try my best to try to counter the damage her mother is doing but there’s only so much that can be done in the time I have with her. I can’t protect my mother, who will die if she keeps working like she is with the health problems she’s got, all for a husband who is worthless. I can’t make a dent in my best friend’s problems, but that is unsurprising. There’s only so much even the doctors can do, they barely understand what the hell is even going on with him. It’s funny they can tell you approximately how long you have left to live but can’t figure out even the most basic functional treatment.

I couldn’t protect my relationship from myself, either. I tried to be strong but I couldn’t, I had to tell one person what was going on with me and to express what I was feeling. I did it all wrong though, like a flood, totally out of control, destroying everything. She couldn’t handle it, I can’t blame her. There was no way she could help me. I miss her. I still love her so much. My life is poison to everyone around me. No matter what I do, the people around me suffer constantly. I have tried everything, exhausted every option. I just want it to stop, if just for a while. I just need time to heal, to be strong again. I’m scared for my health. I’ve lost so much weight. I can’t keep doing this, but I have to keep going.

Does it matter? Does anything truly matter?

Is it my fault? What did I do?

I swear I have tried to be a good man.