I am broken, mentally and physically. I am so angry. I never had a chance. I want to be done. I want to live, not just exist in this miserable reality I keep enduring. i wish I could have known. It is such torture, in pain and isolation, 16-19 hours a day in bed, maybe 4-5 or those sleeping.
First, I couldn’t work. Then, I couldn’t travel. Then, I could not even think well enough to interact on mic. Then, I could barely walk. Throughout, I have tried to keep hope. I’ve tried to help others with what little knowledge I can express. But I am so broken now, so crippled, no one can stand spending time with me.
I am the character from The Beach, slowly dying, miserable and screaming in agony, and everyone else cannot live while I remain struggling, not wanting to die, but unable to live. I will never be comfortable again. I will never feel accepted or safe. This life has been such a cruel experience.
I am taunted by the possibility of moments of friendship that will never come to pass, moments that would make this painful existence seem worthwhile, at least in the moment. I dream and hope for a miracle and all I get is pain. I can’t handle these sleepless nights anymore. I need summer to get here. I need some physical warmth. I have had so little emotional warmth. I am too broken for others to engage with.
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