TW: depression, suicidal thoughts, mental breakdown, vulgarity, self harm, later on violence, sexual content, possible sexual violence, other dark stuff I guess.
This memoir tells the story of my death. There is no hope, no happy ending. Its beginning is at the point where I had already given these things up. At that point, I already had no future and was set to wander aimlessly until I found the luck or the energy to die.
My name isn’t that important. I really don’t know why I’m writing any of this anyway. However it would probably be inconvenient for you were my fleeting existence to have no moniker to think of me by. Unfortunately for you, I don’t care about convenience in the slightest, and definitely don’t want to be remembered. In any case, I existed and now I don’t. Just like anybody else on this planet.
Now before you even try, there is no need to pity me, feel sad for me, or any of that other emotional bullshit. While my life wasn’t the best, I certainly wasn’t one of those starving children in China, or Africa, or another one of those far off places your parents probably talked about to get you to eat your veggies. I mean, I had my scattering of trauma, some mental illness, and a few comorbidities, but honestly, who doesn’t have a thing or two fucked up in their lives. Anyone who gets through this rat race unscathed is likely hiding more issues than anyone else from living in the bubble everyone’s kept them in.
Ah, I got sidetracked again… I’ll probably do that a lot so don’t mind it. …where were we now… Ah, yes.
The Insignificant Death of Someone you Probably Used to Know, or Maybe Didn’t. In any Case if you Did, you Would have Remembered them Forever, I Guess.
Yes that is the title, I know it is long, and who the fuck cares about the correct capitalization. Piss on my ashes if you give a shit, see if I care.
I think this sorta begins around the time of my fourth or so bigger mental breakdown. I mean, officially it began on a very special day when mommy and daddy, who loved each other veeeery much, discovered that their condom broke, and didn’t have an abortion because they were lust-filled religious dipshits who had barely gone through their teens with oaths of chastity intact (or at least, that’s what they claim), and were sure that they were each other’s eternal mate a week or two after they had met.
This isn’t about all that though, I am waaaaaayyyyy too lazy to write a post mortem autobiography, so be glad I gave you anything. Not that anyone would wanna read this hot pile of stinkin garbage anyway.
Where was I… reads back a bit ah, yes, so it was the fourth of the bigger breakdowns, right in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic, in the US anyway. By this time, March 2021, everyone else in the world had already gotten their shit together and was moving on with their lives. So where was I? Long story short failed previous semester’s online classes again due to more and more frequent bouts of whatever excuse you wanna pick outta the hat, be it insomnia, anxiety, depression, nightmares, eating maybe every other day, apathy, or whatever other thing you wanna mention which though technically true, is still just an excuse for failing at life in capitalism. It wasn’t the first time this has happened so I was academically dismissed. If we’re being honest though, this probably would have happened even without the pandemic.
Anyways, that was last year. New year, new me… Right? Wrong. I halfassed getting a new job for a month or two, got something and didn’t like it, quit, and found another one. This new swanky full time remote customer service job with benefits was perfect for me, who has a computer, and was running out of money. In fact, by this time, my purse had all dried up, and with my start date a month away, I was in trouble. At the time, my covid bubble consisted of seven people: Two girlfriends, two partners, a boyfriend, and two friends, one of whom is a best friend who was a girlfriend, but we clicked better as friends, and the other friend who I know has a girl crush on me, and I her, but is in a monogamous relationship currently, so we’re gal pals™. I guess technically my family too, but as the oldest of 7, my family practically bursts the recommended bubble limit on it’s own. To say the least, I took two weeks between family holidays and seeing anyone else. Let’s just say, I believed much more in the safety and health a good mask and safety guidelines could give, than goin to church, prayer, and Jesus ever could.
So with all this love, support, and more friends/romantic partners than your average anime shitty harem protagonist, I must have had many people to lean on during this time of crisis. … yeah… Nope. Like the fucked-up american I was raised, I held all information about vulnerability, weakness, and financial distress under lock and key until the very last moment…or I would have, but the past year I had started going to therapy, and had opened up about some of my struggles and emotions to one of my girlfriends, but only after she had asked me about them on a walk after she had noticed my high levels of distress and frequent nightmares while staying at her place for a week. When I opened up in tears, she offered to help me out financially until I was back on my feet, which I reluctantly, but thankfully accepted. As for the other people, I gave two of them a general idea on happenings without specifics relating to emotions or finances, and kept the rest in the dark while we enjoyed other less stressful times together, like a hot springs trip, cooking delicious meals together, and a cold fishing outing filled with warm cuddles.
At this point there was still a bit of hope, and I mentally chided myself to not be like squidward when he lost his job. After all, I would start working, and everything would be fine again…just…fine.
The next month was long. With security, the anxiety should have gone away at least a little. I tried to stop being nocturnal for quite some time, but my body would not allow it. Sleeping at night would give nightmares, or worse, I would stay awake for hours on end, alone with my thoughts and nothing else. Sleeping meds wouldn’t work, a proper routine did the trick for a few days, but it went right back once I got into a good book and stayed awake reading it for 36 hours. And to top it all off, it felt like no matter what I tried I was always tired, and my mind had a dull hazy ache.
The month passed, it was a day before the job, and I got an e-mail… Apparently, I didn’t pass their typing test by something like 3 words per minute, and they would “reluctantly” be unable to consider me for a position… after they had accepted me, all my other crap, the drug test, background check, everything, and they…and they… it didn’t work…I tried and it didn’t work…this job, my last job, school, the job before that, so many friends and relationships I only got to keep myself distracted… To keep myself safe so at least someone would always be there… What was the point? No matter who it was, no one could possibly be emotionally there at four am night after night… Not that I ever tried to lean on anyone… Sure my girlfriend, and even others, had offered love and support, but after all this, I would just be a burden on them. … I would just be a burden on everyone… No matter what I just failed. I fail and I fail and I fail and I fail and it… I don’t know… I just don’t want to try anymore. I want to stop trying. I don’t care anymore. I want to break this time, and never be put back together again…….I’m done.
And this, my dear readers, is where the story truly begins.
If I ever took any of my devices off of silent or do not disturb modes, I would have woken to the sounds of two notifications from my girlfriend… The one who I opened up to, not the other one (yes I know it’s confusing, no I don’t care, and lastly I’m not makin a goddamn flowchart).
GF: Hey baby <3
So how was your first day?
I don’t even know how long I spent looking at those messages.Seeing them tore me apart from the insides. I could feel all the love, the care, the affection, and most of all the heavy weight of hope and expectation carried in those few words.
At the very least, I was thankful at that moment, but also a bit sad that I had no kids. For one, no one relied on me to live, but if there had been, I’m sure I would have pushed myself even further than my limits to take care of them. At the least, right now… I didn’t want to be a burden. At the same time though, I wanted no more than to give up completely on everything, and depend fully on someone else for everything. … That was only a fantasy though, reality is seldom so accommodating.
I looked at the words again… Chills ran through my body, goosebumps splattered here and there. My chest tightened and my head began to ache.
I had the intense urge to bang my head against something hard. Just enough to numb everything else…just enough to feel something where I could reach it, rather than to have this complicated hurting flying about like wisps everywhere and nowhere inside of me.
I wanted a drink, wanted to pass out, wanted to sleep and never wake up again, but I promised myself long ago that I wouldn’t hurt myself anymore, and wouldn’t rely on anything addicting when my mental state wasn’t healthy.
Of course, with these promises, I had been sober for faaar too long…
Instead I went to my other vices, erotic stories, video games, light novels with at least hundreds or thousands of chapters, and anime.
My mind dived into a sea of obsession and distraction, and I didn’t come up for air, or food for many days. I barely slept, and couldn’t even manage to step outside my room for fear of seeing my housemate, being asked “How’s it going?”, and completely breaking down in front of him. However, due to my interests, I had a ready supply of diapers, and could avoid any unnecessary trips to the restroom. In the case I needed to shit, or drink water, it would wait until he slept or was at work.
When I was more ready to face the world a bit later…only four days this time, I scanned through my messages. Seems like I missed a few occasions to hang out with a friend or a partner, and my girlfriend had added “Are you alright?” to her previous messages and attempted a phone call at some point. I decided to take the safe approach and replied, “No, but I am physically fine”.
As soon as I sent the message I wanted nothing more than to cry, to be with her and cry, and let it all out, and have it all somehow become magically better. It was 3:37am… that sort of thing is only a wish. Reality wouldn’t allow for these kinds of problems to magically poof away. I am broken. I am broken and no matter what I try will fail. People will love me, but will get bored and move on. Even the ones who love me most, I will want to lean on, and they will think I am too needy, or a bother, or worse, they will help as much as they can, and I will take and take and take until I break them too. They won’t be able to cope emotionally, or they will lose everything trying to provide for my basic needs as I jump from job to job, never being able to hold anything down.
I want to rely on others… I want to share how I hurt, and to be soothed and feel better. I want to get help, and to accept the love and support everyone around me is offering…but once I start giving in more, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. For the most part I’ve been keeping things in, and isolating myself to keep that from happening, but it makes them more worried, and now I’ve even started accepting help. I don’t want to hurt them forever… I don’t want to pretend things will get better anymore. I don’t want them to face me with the same painted on smile I’ve been wearing for years only for them to slowly feed me pieces of themselves until I consume them entirely.
I know they would help me, I know they want to, I know they love me, I know they would probably let themselves get hurt to help me. I don’t want it. I want it, but I don’t want this control over others. I don’t want my desperation to hurt anyone…not anyone else… only me… If only I get hurt… It will be okay… … . I can’t let myself be around them anymore.
I need a plan. I will go somewhere far away, and disappear forever. They need to think I’m safe, so they can slowly forget me…that way it won’t hurt them anymore. They can believe I’ve moved on to a better life, and I can fade away without hurting anyone anymore. I can break on my own, and no one will have to cry.