molassesmorasses
Human Ransom Note
- Jul 15, 2022
- 28
My time is running out, I think. I know I won't be able to handle the way things may be going soon. I can't handle living with and loving someone who runs, not even just with my ED. Even if I was better, there is still just something wrong with me where I would rather die than have things like that in my life. There's nothing left of me but the monster that won't let me even try to be healthy.
I do well with food, I plummet, I try again. I think, "How could I have ever wallowed in misery, trying feels so good, even if I don't get better or handle the million other things wrong with me?" Then something small knocks me down, I realize I was never truly stable, I realize it's fucking pointless, I realize that I will feel like this for the rest of my life just as I have since I was indoctrinated into it if I don't just speed that process up. I'm back to not eating, I'm back into a tailspin, I'm back to destructive weight, I'm back to purging. And what will happen when things stay consistently warmer and she starts running? I try not to run because I've damaged my body over the years and she doesn't want me to if I'm still sick, but I have to if she does. I get this destructive energy when alone, I feel like I'm out of control, I'm watching a movie, I have to hit the wall, I have to hit myself, I have to destroy myself. I look at her now and realize that everything will go away.
Cruelly, the only thing that has kept me going is for her to be weight restored from her own disorder. She's gotten there a tiny bit, and it makes me feel like things are going okay. She wants to run every day. There it is. The caveat, the bridge I am too weak to cross. The control over myself that I will lose as illness takes over and I shut down. Hands off the reins and into tying knots.
I have two options: CTB, or causing damage. We have a lease, we love each other, I'm the cruelty that needs that control. Can't leave, can't disappear to satisfy my waning fear of death, can't fix myself, can't be the monster who requires her to not do something that makes her feel better just because I'm too sick. This isn't giving up, this is saving everyone. I've been hospitalized, I've tried, I've been here before so many times that there must be some truth to it. I must be doing something right, just in the wrong way as to not get the desired results. I should've been better. I've traumatized people by trying, now's the time to just get it over with so it doesn't happen again. Cruel, cruel, cruel.
Yes, I have ambitions. I'm in college for a reason, I make music for a reason, I try to get better for a reason. Those are all longshots, not going to happen, can't happen, lies to myself to keep me here because I was made to make burns. No amount of antipsychotics will keep me grounded, no amount of warm air will stop this spinout. I don't know when I will do it, but I hid the note and the noose in the trunk of a tree---better than having the noose hanging from a tree that someone may see like I've had it during the winter months.
This is just who I am, I guess; not that I would know, I'm barely here, everyone else gets to enjoy reality while I spin words through my head in the corner, an outline of a person populated by static.
Goddamn.
I do well with food, I plummet, I try again. I think, "How could I have ever wallowed in misery, trying feels so good, even if I don't get better or handle the million other things wrong with me?" Then something small knocks me down, I realize I was never truly stable, I realize it's fucking pointless, I realize that I will feel like this for the rest of my life just as I have since I was indoctrinated into it if I don't just speed that process up. I'm back to not eating, I'm back into a tailspin, I'm back to destructive weight, I'm back to purging. And what will happen when things stay consistently warmer and she starts running? I try not to run because I've damaged my body over the years and she doesn't want me to if I'm still sick, but I have to if she does. I get this destructive energy when alone, I feel like I'm out of control, I'm watching a movie, I have to hit the wall, I have to hit myself, I have to destroy myself. I look at her now and realize that everything will go away.
Cruelly, the only thing that has kept me going is for her to be weight restored from her own disorder. She's gotten there a tiny bit, and it makes me feel like things are going okay. She wants to run every day. There it is. The caveat, the bridge I am too weak to cross. The control over myself that I will lose as illness takes over and I shut down. Hands off the reins and into tying knots.
I have two options: CTB, or causing damage. We have a lease, we love each other, I'm the cruelty that needs that control. Can't leave, can't disappear to satisfy my waning fear of death, can't fix myself, can't be the monster who requires her to not do something that makes her feel better just because I'm too sick. This isn't giving up, this is saving everyone. I've been hospitalized, I've tried, I've been here before so many times that there must be some truth to it. I must be doing something right, just in the wrong way as to not get the desired results. I should've been better. I've traumatized people by trying, now's the time to just get it over with so it doesn't happen again. Cruel, cruel, cruel.
Yes, I have ambitions. I'm in college for a reason, I make music for a reason, I try to get better for a reason. Those are all longshots, not going to happen, can't happen, lies to myself to keep me here because I was made to make burns. No amount of antipsychotics will keep me grounded, no amount of warm air will stop this spinout. I don't know when I will do it, but I hid the note and the noose in the trunk of a tree---better than having the noose hanging from a tree that someone may see like I've had it during the winter months.
This is just who I am, I guess; not that I would know, I'm barely here, everyone else gets to enjoy reality while I spin words through my head in the corner, an outline of a person populated by static.
Goddamn.
