You ever have those days where you just...cant.

Anything.

I mean, yeah, you do stuff like go to town and do errands, or work, and housework and responsibilities but...

Does any of it matter?

I'm only venting here because it's hard to bring it up to other people that're close to me.

Friends, recently found yet estranged family, lovers, confidants, anyone...

I thought I was better... I thought this, thing, whatever it is, this...dark heaviness that settles in my chest and mind and makes me feel...empty, hollow, useless, hopeless...

I thought I had kicked it, I thought it was gone but its back now. And it's just the same as it's always been. Its just been, hiding, lurking, waiting for it's moment to strike again...

Every time I think I'm fine and I feel happy and content it rears its stupid, ugly head and drags me back down into its well of despair and self disgust and loathing and I HATE it.

I do not understand. Why won't it go away? What's wrong with me?

What is this hopeless empty feeling that makes me cry and feel like if I were gone then I would be better? And so would everyone else?

Have you ever thought that? Has anyone else? That if you no longer existed then the entire world would just be better off?

I have get to run across anyone else that has.

I've also yet to find another person who's actually contemplated how to do it. And in a way that would be quick, and painless.

I backed out at the last second... Because I was afraid. I didn't want to exist but I wasn't ready to die.

I was just...low.

And embarrassed i'd become so weak.

When it healed, I couldn't stand to look at the reminder so I...I covered it up. Made up a lie and had a witness that helped me enforce it and make it believable. I'd be amazed if he remembers the details to this day...

But... Despite it being hidden, I still know its there, along with the other marks that have unintentionally found their way carved into the canvas that is my skin.

Why am I writing this down instead of confiding in someone?

Because...

I want someone to know, but I just can never bring myself to confide in anyone, so...i carry this, everywhere I go, on me.

So that, if something were to happen by my own hand and I no longer draw breath, they could send it to the right person/people and hopefully they'll finally understand...

I suppose it is a fleeting hope. This is a sickness I've never heard of before and have no thoughts how to cure. And if the one suffering from such a debilitating disease of the mind cannot stop it...how can they expect anyone else to?

I can only hope that this will help clear up some things...and maybe I will make sense to those who don't understand or have never understood why I am the way I am.