Why Am I Disintegrating in Reality is never really real.

Every day has become worse rather than better. The old tricks dont work like they used to. My husband is always scared to talk to me now, and un-happy. He says im always angry and nothings ever good enough. And i guess hes right. i dont want to be like this either though. i dont want to wake up wishing i never would have, or tell my self “just one more day. you can make it, just get through today.” I feel like its a race, i just have to pace myself until the children are grown and out on their own

Im tired. I’m always tired. What energy i have is spent keeping the shell of myself left intact enough to pass as alive and well for my family.. I play and care for the children, I clean and work, i shower, and I still maintain that persona my husband fell in love with (on my good days.) I talk and carry on conversations, i smile, i wave....

but inside im dying.

Its funny that living is whats killing me. Maybe i was just born wrong, too soft, too sensitive. But then by some cruel twist of fate, i was gifted with this uncanny sense of pride and ambition. I want more, i NEED more. but more what? all the little things only tide the void over for a short while. I try to fill it with food, hobbies, human conections, love. But none of it is the right piece. what am i missing? Why am i withering away?

its so frustrating!!

i dont want this. i dont wanna be like this, i want better for my kids, my family. i want more for me..... but i also feel like i shouldn’t ask for anything. be greatful im alive and have this family. be greatful im not living on the streets or being beaten by a man i cant get away from. Maybe thats my problem, maybe my true personality is so selfish and ungreatful, i can never truly be happy. Maybe im a narcisist , and im so absorbed in this battle of living i cant see what its doing to the people around me.

but im so tired…oh so tired. random trees start to look like perfect places to hang nooses. box cutters and razors seem to almost beg to have a taste of blood, and the medication i see in the cabinets is almost a tease. The world is my own personal hell, being alive is like torture. How much more can i endure before this pride and honor of mine gives way. i tell myself i would never, i could never leave my children. But it almost feels like an addiction. how bad do you crave death? how long can you fight the cravings to cut, to bleed, to feel pain and eventually nothing?

When night falls, and everyone in the house save myself is sound asleep, i find myself wide awake. is now the perfect time?? they would never know. I could drive far away. I could run a bath and sink slowly into the warm water. no one would ever know until it was done. Isnt that almost beautiful? its almost art; the work it takes to keep up the facade with your various human conections, while inside hiding what everyone can’t handle.

I dont think im a very good human. Maybe in my next life i’ll get it right.

Last updated February 01, 2018