I just got back from the theatre watching my step dad in a play. At one point he’s one stage with his shirt hanging open thrusting his hips. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe.

The play was a love story. About love that doesn’t work out. They don’t end up together. It seems fitting for my life right now. I was nearly in tears at the end.

I fucked up with A. I wish I could take it all back. I was trying to hurt him before he had the chance to hurt me which is completely stupid.

I’m not myself at the moment. The last few months have been a whirlwind of emotions.

Normally I fairly like myself, currently I wish I was dead. Suicide seems like a good option right now. I’ve always thought I would die by suicide one day. Even when I’ve been happy and life has been going well I thought that’s how it would end. It scared my mate when I told him that. He thought I was suffering with depression but when I told him, I actually wasn’t. My mental health was good at the time. But I know things can always get bad again.

But I really don’t feel like myself. I’ve dissociated. I feel like I’m watching myself live my life, but I’m not actually in control of my body or my actions. Like an out of body experience. I’m just watching.

Yet the things I’ve done are still my fault. Because I let myself get to this point. I’ve been dissociated for a week. But the warning signs have been there since january.

I’ve not looked at my bank accounts and kept an eye on my money since january. I’m gonna have charges for going overdrawn on my accounts.

I’ve not donated to charity or even signed a petition or bothered to read an email from greenpeace since january. All my post is sitting unopened as well.

I’ve barely played guitar or ukulele or keyboard since January. I’ve listened to music but not the right kind of music to soothe my soul.

I’ve not meditated more than four times since January, and those four times weren’t successful. I couldn’t calm my thoughts.

I self harmed three weeks ago after over a year of not self harming.

I’ve been obsessed with dieting and weighing myself 10 times a day (10 is probably an underestimate. Definitely not an exaggeration). That’s not healthy for anyone but especially someone with a history of eating disorders.

I’ve not written any short stories since January or worked on my novel, and I might have written one poem but that’s it. Normally it’s a short stories and a couple of poems per week and regular work on my novel.

I’ve not studied at all since 2015. That’s just pathetically bad for me.

And I don’t know what to do. I have one friend whose advice I always go to and who I really trust. But she’s been severely ill with her own bipolar since october. Maybe the lack of anyone to talk to has gradually led to this breakdown of sorts. Maybe it would have happened anyway.

I just need someone to talk to. A friend who really cares.

The worst thing about dissociation is I don’t feel the same. Like I don’t care about people. I don’t even love my dog. And then I start thinking how that makes me a bad person.


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