Skydiving adventure!

David Foster Wallace

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.” 
― David Foster Wallace

losing

I've lost you like I lose everyone. I only seem to have one person at a time in my life who I can fully trust and fully open up to. Right now, it's the person I am paying to talk to and that thought is slightly comforting, but mostly depressing.

The "you" I am referring to in this blog post isn't just one person. It's every person in my life who seems to come and go, be consistently inconsistent, and never really there when I need them to be. Only there when it's convenient for them. Or they try to be there, but they inevitably say something that hurts me and I push them away. Because I am so good at pushing people away.

Now I'm pushing "you" away. Because "you" made me feel bad, like I've done something wrong by being open with you. Like I shouldn't talk about how I feel, I should probably learn to be more considerate of other people's feelings. I shouldn't open my mouth if it means somebody else is going to suffer as a result. Not because I'm a bully to that person, but because I am a bully to myself.

Some days I want to be back in the hospital because it felt horrifically safe, even though it was in the worst way possible. But life felt different then. It felt more predictable and I felt like there was a chance that I had people in my life who really cared. I have people now who care but either they care inconsistently, or depression is convincing me that they don't care and they never really cared to begin with. They are just pretending.

Well I'm starting to feel like I'm only pretending too. I'm just pretending that things are getting better and life is starting to move forward in the right direction, but what if it's not? I'm scared it's just giving me a false sense of security and something will happen to pull the rug out from beneath my feet. I feel stable yet I don't at all.

I want to feel whole again.

Blogging: how does one do it, and do it consistently?

This blog has become such a mish mash of postings about such random things. I think I'd like to use it again but I definitely need to change my layout.

What am I even supposed to write about on here. It sometimes just feels like a very public diary.

Well I went on a date yesterday. And I'm moving to Vancouver soon. Tomorrow I'm going to visit Mr. Sanderson and also doing laundry. Wow my life thrills me to bits. I should do some actual writing and I plan to sleep in because I'm sleep deprived to the point of hysterics.

Goodnight world.

haunting

I love this post secret.

post secret

When I saw this secret on post secret it brought me back to the night of my own attempt. But instead of gratitude towards my "rescuer" I only feel regret and anger. Anger because I was not treated kindly and because I'm not even entirely sure that I wanted to be saved. I feel broken inside. 

what hurt feels like

Pain like this is immeasurable. I can't feel myself breathing and I'm choking on pure air. This is how it feels. It is a constant ache. It is a constant yearning for something unattainable. It hurts so much that I don't know how to cope. It hurts so much that I want to end it but I know that I can't. I just need to put one foot in front of the other even though it is killing me inside.

I was doing fine
before you came along
and yet I would feel
so lost without you

maybe you are the
not-so-subtle difference
between life and death
maybe you have saved me