Dropping Like The Grains In A Hourglass... in Chapter 9 : Oil Above Water

They say that Self-Awareness is a good thing, that to be self-aware is a positive attribute. I’m not so sure. What if you’re a person like me and your self-awareness feeds directly in to your mental health? What if others aren’t aware of what your self-awareness has highlighted to you? So what the ever living fuck do you when you’re self-fucking-awareness conflicts with what others think they know of you? You can tell me that you think I’m strong, that I’m funny, that I’m a goddamn inspiration but given half a chance, I’d slice open my chest and rip out my own heart just to never again feel the pain that beats within. If I could I would step off the edge of the world, just to remove myself from this planet. I can’t just flip the switch and turn off this godforsaken life that I have been cursed with. Don’t get me wrong, if I could, I would but I can’t. It’s not fear that stops me, I’m not afraid of my time coming but obligation. There are too many people dependent on my being here, dependent on me waking up day after day. There are too many repercussions for those who would be left behind. So I remain; obligated, trapped and existing. Neither alive nor dead, just an everliving purgatory.

I know I’m not well. I know this condition will improve, I know it will relapse. I just need to get it out of me any way that I can. Maybe one day I’ll find a talking therapist where I can go regularly and let this poison flow out of me without the fear of psychiatric intervention. Maybe I need psychiatric intervention? Maybe I’m terrified of the eternal impact that the stigma will have on my professional future? Fuck I don’t know. I’m not sure I ever did? Did I?