I Hate Myself And Want To Die

I hate this post and hate myself for making it. It is basically the largest act of cowardice on my part that I can muster. I want to vent, and I want to say it on the internet platform, but on a stage no one watches. No one is subscribed to this blog (I have several), so in theory no one will find except by accident. And that is the fucked up thing, the is the single most passive aggressive call for help for no real emergency in the world.

I have been really sick for two years now. My depression and anxiety is the worst it has been since I was initially diagnosed with severe mental illness in 1997. I have this daily routine where from about 1 pm to 4 pm I just focus on not killing myself. I don't know what is special about the afternoon, but apparently it spikes my anxiety and makes my self esteem cave in.

Yeah, so I have also been sick for two years now. I have an incurable immune disorder that, if left untreated, would shut my kidneys down (if I didn't die from a pulmonary embolism first). The fucked up immune system creates antibodies that hurts my kidneys and makes my blood insanely prone to clotting. In fact, I have a huge blood clot behind my right knee that maybe will finally dissolve in a few decades and the doctors insist there is no sort of surgery they can do to treat that clot. So, I have major circulatory issues in my lower right leg, including deep vein thrombosis (which can be very painful).

Ha, and pain. Fucking pain. I have several pain issues stemming from this illness in a variety of ways. The worst pain comes from the deconditioned/semi-atrophied lumbar area muscles that I have been in physical therapy for on and off for this entire two years. It leaves me weak, useless, and in pain like a pathetic helpless baby.

Another great sidecar that comes from pain is my dependence on prescription pain relievers. I don't like crush them/snort them/or other methods used to get "high" on them, but I have been opioid tolerant for almost a year straight now. It is terrifying. I used to get high, and I kicked drugs once and now here I am dependent on them just to make it to the afternoon so I can cry and try not give in to the urge to kill myself.

I have been fighting with social security for about 18 months for trying to get on disability. It has been excruciating, probing, and a frustrating process. I am waiting right now for a written ruling for the initial appeal trial I had recently. Gee, nothing like a person with a fucked up social anxiety disorder trying to give testimony without spazzing the fuck out. I almost don't want to get the letter, for the past year and a half every letter I have got from Social Security has basically said, "Go fuck yourself, you fat loser.".

The urge to go seek illegal drugs has been slowly rising in me for the past few months. Hell, part of me wishes I would somehow come across some heroin, fatally overdose on it, and die having one last little happy dream.

For mercy's sake, if someone happens to stumble upon this, please click on and pretend you never saw it. I am too chickenshit to actually do any considerable harm to myself or others. Please don't try to reach out to me, please just forget this is even fucking here or that I even fucking exist. For all intents and purposes, I actually don't exist. I haven't existed since I was hospitalized in late August of 2011.