What I’ve been “fighting” is all in my head, I’m just weak. I’m the reason of their shame, all of them.
The entirety of my story is disgusting, and each second I choose to stay around, I drag yet another person into the undying circle of my undeniable incompetence.
So far, I’ve gotten so many people dragged into it that they’ve decided that I’m worth saving. And they’re trying to save a ghost. The mere character I’ve created to push through while I got the guts to end things, is now something that many people feel attached to. It’s awful. It’s scary. I pity them. I pity that character.
I pity the world for still having me, plaguing down on everything I touch. All around me becomes putrid. I’m toxic. I’m the end itself.
The longer I put it off, the more people I drag. The more I try to unravel those people from my poisonous net, the more new ones get caught in it.
I can’t leave without hurting them. I could have, 7 years ago. But I didn’t.
It’s too late now to save them. But I can save the ones to come.
I’m going to bed and I just wish I fall asleep and never wake up again.
I would kill myself tomorrow without even flinching. But I f’d up and allowed people to depend on me. Now I’m f'ing stuck with being alive because of them. The saddest part is that part of the reason I want to die… It’s them.
“Trauma permanently changes us. This is the frightening truth about betrayal. You never really get over it. At best, you grieve and make some kind of peace with it. But a major life disruption leaves a new normal behind. There’s no going back to who you were before.”
