// dilemmas of dying...and living
| 06/21/2003 - 9:46 a.m. |

6-20-03, almost midnight--Fuck, fuck, fuck (I feel like I start a whole lot of entries like that). I had managed to block out thinking about the stuff from earlier for most of the evening--until I got in bed and tried to go to sleep just a bit ago and suddenly my head is churning with it all.

The simple answer is I need to cut the crap and genuinely commit to trying to get my life back. The simple fact of the matter though is I don't want to. Sad but true, my interest in actually living is nil. So what DO I want? The thoughts of wishing I were dead have become a constant refrain. But do I actually want to DIE? I've thought about it often enough, but really so very vaguely. If I really believe it to be my right to do so, I feel like I should be giving a lot more serious thought to its reality, in terms of what I imagine it would actually be like and especially the thereafter.

And the thing is I have no fucking clue, no real beliefs, no spiritual convictions on the matter. The Catholic version I grew up with frankly scares the shit out of me--I don't go for it, yet there is that little voice that says, "What if they're right? You are so screwed." Buddhist ideas intrigue me, but I probably wouldn't get such a good deal there either.

I have often thought that whatever one believes in terms of religion/spirituality, including regarding death, is true for them. As in if someone believes in heaven and hell and purgatory and judgement, etc. that is what will actually happen for them; and if they believe in reincarnation, that will be their actual fate as well; if one believes there is nothing but the decaying corpse in the ground, so it will be; and so on. Problem with that concept is again, I have no fucking clue.

But enough of the existential for the moment. I sense I've got a good bit of torture and breathing still to go. So back to my current state and the equally confusing dilemmas entailed there-in...

and the staunchness of my self-destructive bent. And I'm wondering why I am continuing with all this treatment and such at all. Why am I continuing to engage in this "relationship" with D. in particular, letting myself get more and more comfortable, when it is clear that for one reason or another, it will end prematurely? Why do I allow any of these people to waste 2 seconds of their time on me, when I know damn well they can't really help? No one can give me back what I've lost, only trigger me to care and want and need and be left with even bigger spaces of nothing.

I've talked often about the 2 things/people that I feel have thus far kept me from planning an active suicide: C. and my mom. I've been feeling lately like C. never forgiving me is maybe not so intolerable after all--I still love her of course, but I guess she doesn't hold the same kind of power/influence over me as she once did. And re: my questions about what happens after death, I wonder what it would matter besides to ME--who's to say there would be any continuing soul for it to matter to?

There is still my mom though. To do that to her, I fear I would go to hell whether it exists or not. It seems not fair to either of us really how much space I take up in her head, thoughts, therapy?!...but thats how it is regardless. But I also wonder what is worse--a tangible event to grieve over, even if that grief is neverending, OR continuing to waste my life and destroy my being just as unceasingly, and figurative or literally make her watch and powerlessly??

"All" options basically suck...as do I (had to go for my cliched ending to match the beginning).--1am

~~~~~~~~~~

too damn early this morning--Why in the FUCK are there people next door knocking down my fence, right outside my damn windows, before 9am on Saturday morning?!

Waking me up to find my computer crashed AGAIN.

Bahhhhh. The gymnastics coverage better be GOOD.