It’s okay to ask for help...?

 

Life has suddenly become too much for me.

 It’s not like it’s anything new.

 I’m good and putting on a smile and showing the world I’m working just fine when I’m not.

I’ve become so good at it that I’m fooling myself.
 

Over the last couple of months I have been dealing with life shit. I actually think it’s harder this way. That it’s not just me. Not just my brain telling me how shit I am. How nothing will ever change and that doing this. Doing that. It’s worth nothing because I’m not good enough. I’d never be good enough.

And yeah, that’s there, but I push it away. I motivate myself. ‘Cause no matter what I can’t seem to kill myself.

I’m a little bit of a coward.   

I hate myself most for that.
 

But we aren’t talking about the long life list of shit that’s in my brain that makes it impossible for me to ever think of life as something more than what you need to live to until the blessed day that you die.

I have to believe that there’s something out there. Something that is there for me to live this life. that I’m meant to. That I’m not meant to be nothing more than a memory to haunt the lives of the living.

But me like this.

Me in this shell of a body with a mind rotted with defection of depression.

Is this what I was meant to be? Is this what I was meant to live threw? Is there something I did wrong in a past life that has put me into this place now? Is there something that I must learn to pass into the next?

Why do I need to live through this hell of a life?

 

What did I do?

 

And then the tears come….

They rot in your eyes as they roll down your cheeks while you try so hard to suck them in deep and play as if you don’t care.

But you are being told shit you don’t want to hear.

You are being told you need help.

You are being given soft hands and gentle smiles and all you can see is the pity. The lies. The hatred. The agreement that everything would be better if you weren’t there. That they would be happier without having to worry about you anymore.

And you know this is what’s in your head. You know this isn’t what they think. How they feel. You know they love you. That they are doing this to help you, ‘cause they want to alive. They want you happy, they want you to live free of the what’s holding you down.
 

But you can’t see that.

Why can’t you see that?

Why can’t you let them help without it being a big deal?

Why can’t you let them help?

Why can’t you ask before you need the interventions? Before you hold the knife against your wrists? Before you tie the nose and let the burn of rope pull a smile at your lips. before you drop into the free-fall.
 

Why does this have to be something that happens in life?

Why do I have to suffer from it? 

Why does life not stop? Not for a moment. Not for you to take a breath.
 

I’ve had too much.

I need help.