I’m drinking wine. I really just want to be drunk. Anything to numb the pain. I don’t know what’s happening lately, why things are so bad for me. Why I’m so awful. Such a mess. So broken.
I contacted the counseling place again. The place that has one lucky therapist in my local office who has experience with BPD. All they had now was an answering service and she couldn’t answer my questions. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow when the office opens again so I emailed them again. I feel like I’m dying. I know I keep saying all of this and I’m sure everyone is so tired of me. I can’t help it. I am trying to help it, but I just can’t. It keeps happening. What is going on? I can’t keep on like this. I just paced back and forth in my bathroom. I always go to the bathroom. I think because it’s small. It’s the closest to a hug I can get…a tiny room. I paced, or rather took steps in a circle. Crying. Panicking. Trying to breathe. Sobbing. And praying so hard for God to take me already.
Just like everyone else. Just like mom ignoring me, interrupting me, cutting me off to talk to other people and never hearing a word of what I say, God doesn’t hear me either. Is he ignoring me? Or has he just cut our communication lines so he doesn’t have to listen to me anymore? Though I don’t think we ever had communication lines to begin with.
Death is my “happy place” right now. I just want to run. Or walk. Stuck and lost in my head, feet moving, until I don’t know where I am, no one else knows who I am or cares, and I just want to end it all. I wish I could make no one look for me. I wish something tragic would happen so I didn’t have to be the one to make the decision. Then I could keep my promise and still get what I need.
I just can’t keep doing this. I can’t. I can’t.