Friday, July 8, 2011
fuck
I am a horrible person. I took advantage of someone. I threw myself into lust because getting guys to want to fuck me or getting them to pull down their pants is the one thing I am good at. Just when I thought I started to hate Sam... I don't. His body is the only one I want. His love. His perfect lips. His perfect embrace. I have my retreat tomorrow... I don't think anything could make me hate myself more or lose the will to live any more... I made out with Justin. He's a faggot. Big time. I miss my Sam. I miss him. His love. His embrace. His everything. Chris deployed, and our karaoke place closed down. Fuck. Even the supreme love I felt for Chris feels like nothing at this point. I want to hear his voice. My Sam. I miss him. I hate me more than anything else.
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4 comments:
Are you still there? Please don't go....
Barely... but I'm here.
I'm pretty sure I have major depression too, but I'm afraid to go to a doctor with it and be put on meds. I drink alone a lot because of this depression (especially on Sundays) and the alcohol makes the feelings of worthlessness 10 times worse. I'm off every Monday and I feel blue as hell after my weekly Sunday disgrace. The closed door of a potential love interest (2 of them in the last year) is the culprit for me coupled with aging and watching my friends start their families and lives without me. I think about suicide too, but won't attempt it because it would hurt too many people and I don't want that. I just don't want to continue with this loneliness either, so something has to change quick. Anyway, hope the writing helps you some- just writing this comment is the first I've admitted these thoughts to anyone, so maybe it will help me too.
It sounds like you might. I never ever wanted to be on meds or to need them. I was afraid that they would change who I am. They haven't. The depression changed me and I was in denial... and right now I am off meds because I couldn't afford it... and I feel fucking awful. It's bad again. The suicidal thoughts are back every day. I pick up my refill tomorrow. I've been off meds for about a month. Never again. The wounds are still too fresh. I hope that admitting does help you cope... the writing helped. It was all I had... and I write a lot now... on this journal and in a personal journal. I'm not gonna lie, having and ED def gives me something to focus on every day when I'm about to lose my shit at work... I don't recommend it... it's just filling your void with a bigger life-threatening obsession. Anyway. Thanks for reading. I hope anything I say helps. Also, meds didn't solve my problem... they allow me to cope like a regular fucking person is all. I'd recommend seeing a doc if you have insurance... I was FORCED on meds and FORCED to see a doctor bc of my suicide attempt. It wasn't a gesture either. I genuinely wanted to die... and I still do. I regret surviving that. But I'm here now and like I said, the meds help me deal with that fact.
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