Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Posts Tagged ‘self-pity

I can’t even think, really. Every time I think, I cry, I panic, I start making terrible plans.

So I’m trying not to think, and I’m spending most of my time completely blank, completely still. It only stops when I do think, and then things get even worse. I’m hardly sleeping at all. Days are rushing past me. I think, “tomorrow will be different”, and then it’s three days later and here I still am. I can’t believe it’s March and I’ve done nothing. Time just keeps speeding up and I can’t get a proper hold on it, I can’t find a way to keep up.

I cannot possibly ask anybody for help. I don’t think I could get the words out, and even if I could, it’s not a good idea. For one thing, it’s too late. Any possible help would take weeks or months to have any effect, and in the mean-time the problem of speaking and having people know would kill me long before there was any chance to feel different. I can’t even speak to my department, explain, ask for some sort of lenience, because if I let the words out, I will fall apart, and anyway they would want evidence and I don’t have any.

I feel completely trapped in my own head. I cannot possibly talk about it.

I’ve messed everything up, I know I have. If I’d handled everything differently, always, then maybe everything would be okay. Fucking hindsight.

I wrote a suicide note. Not the first I’ve ever written, but I’ve had it for days now and still haven’t got rid of it, which is unusual. I think the tone’s all wrong, but I doubt that matters.

I really don’t know what else to do. I’ve ruined my entire life and I don’t think I can live with it anymore.

As far as the rest of the world is concerned, going by the past couple of months, I might as well be dead anyway. I’ve had no real contact with anyone, I’ve done nothing, I’ve been nowhere, I’ve been invisible. If I was dead, the only difference would be that I wouldn’t have to feel like this. If I die, I’m not taking anything away from anyone, just a lot of unhappiness fro myself.

The thought of dying is infinitely preferable to the thought of living like this, and it’s also preferable to the thought of living with the consequences of this, even if the depression should eventually lift. I cannot imagine a future that I can cope with.

My entire life is destroyed. There is no coming back from this, there is no solution that solves more problems than it causes, there is no possible way to get over this, no possible way to live anything like a normal life when, even if this goes away, I know how it feels and will always be afraid of its return.

I simply don’t have the strength to find a way back, and living like this is no long-term solution.

I’m so incredibly tired. I just want to sleep and hope that it all goes away, but I’ve done enough hoping to know it never happens, it never goes away and I am irreversibly changed because of it.

There’s something wrong with me. Not just depression, but something more fundamental. I’m just not the kind of person who’s capable of living, my personality’s all wrong and my mind doesn’t work in the right way. I don’t fit. I’m probably not even a proper human being, just some faulty mutation, and at an earlier point in evolution I’d’ve been dead a long time ago, like I want to be, like I deserve to be.  But there aren’t any predators around to destroy me, so I wither and rot and slowly fall apart.

The longer it goes on, the worse it gets. I wish I’d died years ago.

It’s getting harder and harder to keep going. Read the rest of this entry »


Posted on: June 13, 2009

It’s just getting worse. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. Read the rest of this entry »


Posted on: May 14, 2009

I had a few days of really good high mood – laughing and dancing and talking too much and yes, staying awake far too much, but enjoying myself. Then I had one night of feeling terrified and not being able to think properly. Then a day of kind of indifference. And now, this. Read the rest of this entry »


My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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