Mamarati

that’s what I have. just like today…

you can see the sun. In theory, it should warm you, but it doesn’t. It just sits there in the sky. bright. but no warmth comes from it.

This is how I am.

cold. cold. cold.

My life is falling apart. I am in the single most unhappy place that I have ever been in.

Truly.

cold.

What is making me this way?

Nothing. That’s the point. This is just the way I am.

My eyelid is starting to twitch again.

I am stressed out.

I want to drink more. I want to take a sleeping pill every night. I want to take a million sleeping pills and never wake up.

I don’t care who I will never see or talk to again. I don’t care who I will leave behind. I don’t care about the mess I will leave for others to clean up.

But I won’t.

I must care somewhere. Maybe just seeing the sun is enough.

I have more to say, but I can’t get it out right now.

(cold)

my fingers are.

my heart is.

my mind is.

my spirit is.

my everything is.

I want to make a private entry, because I feel like I could say it all there. I feel pitiful and pathetic and I don’t want to be that. not here. I don’t want to be angry and sad and suicidal and depressed. not here.

Even when I’m miserable, I can’t just take the time to be miserable. I still have to pretend to be happy at some point. Pretend nothing is wrong. Act like nothing is bothering me. Put aside my desire to weep and moan and cry and clutch myself tightly like no one has ever done to me. I have to get out of bed, where I am at least warm… pretend to get on with the day. Smile at my son and pretend that the world is a wonderful place and that I’m happy to be in it. Watch tv shows with friends and laugh and make commentary when I’m really a million miles away. Have phone conversations with people and not just scream that I’m falling apart in ways no one can really see, and why can’t anyone see?

Because I’m invisible. No one sees me. No one knows me. No one can figure me out. No one can help me.

I can’t help me. I don’t know where the first step out of this place is. A hundred outlets around me and I’ve tried them all and none of them lead anywhere but right back here.

I’m tired of trying. I want to go away. I want to be… away. If I’m going to be invisible and nothing I just want to really be invisible and nothing. I want to have never been born. I want to not exist. I don’t care about some ‘it’s a wonderful life’ scenario… because I know what mine would be. Mine would not be that people are sad I’m not around, it would not be that I’m somehow missed on this earth. It would not be that things are somehow better with me. It would not be that I made a difference somehow, that I changed anything. That I mattered at all.

I don’t.

A handful of things keep me here. A very small handful. And I know how to stop them. I feel the need to do that. To let myself sink and be abandoned. If I am at the lowest point instead of this one… if I am at the bottom of the lake, weighted down, instead of where I am now… bobbing in and out of the water fighting for a breath when I can gather the strength to stay up long enough to grab one… But if I just go under, if I just eliminate those things that make me hold on and keep me existing in this state… If I sell or get rid of everything I own. If I leave Kim here in this lease high and dry. If I give up custody of Jacob… If I get rid of my computer, thereby eliminating the way I communicate with the other thing that keeps me afloat on a day to day basis… If I just get rid of it all… everyone would be so mad at me they wouldn’t care why or how or question where I was going or what I was going to do.

I could just disappear. Go to a place where I don’t have to maintain or pretend I’m happy or making it, where things don’t have to be all right.

I could really be invisible.