day eight, 2023
When I say I’m better off dead, I mean that shit. It’s crazy how some of the buzzwords you hear in psychology class and therapy and shit can be very helpful in naming your own experience as you go through depression. Like, yeah, “better off dead” seems exactly right. It’s one of those things where you don’t understand the cliché until it reveals itself to you very very intimately. I finally understand why “better off dead” is one of those buzzphrases.
It just feels like things will never get better. The fact that I even wrote that is incredible to me. Deep down, I understand that things WILL get better, because everything is impermanent, and that’s another one of those clichés that I will eventually understand when it reveals itself intimately or whatever. But it also feels like maybe deeper-down than that, I’m afraid things won’t get better. I have this hunch that eventually I’m going to end my shit. It has just always felt right somehow, on a life-trajectory level, and it’s hard to shake the intuition of it all.
everything If I ever get this fixed, it’s gonna be because I actively WORKED to rewire my brain. I would need to unplug the wires, maybe cut them open and move some shit around, then plug them into a totally different outlet. Maybe even a different wall in a different house. I’m sick of this house!
rewire Maybe it’s not the wiring, but the house itself. Which is scary, right? What if this is the only house I got, and no amount of rewiring will fix the fact that the house is fucked? There’s asbestos in the walls, and the foundation wasn’t built properly, and it rains every day, so someday it’s gonna get washed away in a flood with the soil.
I don’t really know what else to say. Sometimes it feels so much better to just lie down and close my eyes and maybe not even sleep but at least be less aware. Awareness is really getting to me lately. Maybe that’s why it’s becoming a habit for me to dissociate. Or to write. It feels like an amazing break from the typical shit that happens in my awareness. Are there any other things like that? I guess there’s meditation but that’s a harder habit to keep up. There’s also weed, which always makes me feel better (until it makes me feel worse). I should look into more alternative states of consciousness so I can hang out in those places a bit.
I’m just into the escapism of it all. It feels like I’m escaping! Even right now! I think part of what allows me to write for so long is the fact that I’m kinda just stalling so I’ll get a longer break from the awareness. Like, I could probably just sit here forever and ever, continuously writing shit from my stream of consciousness, and never run out of things to write and never get bored and never miss the outside world in the slightest. Maybe it would be nice to travel the world while I do it. It would be cool to have like beautiful surroundings around me all the time, and novel ones at that! I’m picturing a jungle or something. Or, like, rural Italy? Man, I need to be somewhere smaller. It’s too loud and fast here, all the time. My brain wants to be slower, so why would I be in such a fast place? It is really fun sometimes. Admittedly, I like going fast, but it spends all my energy so fast that it almost feels like the speed wasn’t even worth it—if this is how it feels to be so slow.
Sometimes the slowness kinda sucks, too. Sometimes it feels like I can’t move. And I don’t want to, either! It’s not that I’m paralyzed, because I think paralyzed people probably want to move their bodies around. I do not. And I’m a huge asshole for 1) comparing my experience to someone who is paralyzed and 2) taking for granted the fact that I am not. You’re sick for that one, buddy! Nobody feels sorry for you!
It really does feel like my brain is kind of fractured into different parts. Like, after writing that last paragraph, I just had to let out a deep long sigh because it’s so self-indulgent and hyper-critical and annoying. You see how exhausting it is to be inside the same brain as the person in that last paragraph sometimes? Like, Jesus Christ, can we give it a rest?
It just seems like all the parts of me are not communicating with each other properly, and they all hate the decisions the other parts of me are making while they’re at the helm. I wish I could hold a meeting with all the parts and not go home until we come to a consensus on what’s the best thing to do for all of us. Surely there’s a life path that is not this miserable for this many distinct parts of my self.
Maybe not. This is starting to get tiring, too. I’m going to go back to lying down with my eyes closed.