✯Sincerely, Me✯

☯LivingWithMyself☯
2015-08-25 04:26:16 (UTC)

Page-Long Suicide Note


Dear Reader,

In psychology class that I took during my senior year...
I learned that babies cry when they want something or feel bad,
because they don't know else how to communicate it.
Imagine waking up in a foreign country...
and you know none of the native language.
No one else can understand you, and you have no way of explaining that you are far from home and need help.


It's like I'm speaking another language here in my house.


She's... going to make me apply for a job at a grocery store tomorrow.
Working at the cash register...

I feel as if the world is going to end tomorrow morning.
My anxiety is going haywire...


They don't understand.
They don't understand how hard it is for me to deal with things....
How much of my life is controlled entirely by my mental illness...

I tried.. to explain to her how the thought of working the register wouldn't be right for me...

I can't say it's because of my social anxiety.. or because numbers and handling and counting money isn't a strength for me...
(When I count my OWN money.. it takes me way too long to figure out
how much I have.. I have to pile together.. recount a million times... It's really sad.. but that's just how my brain functions with numbers)

I can't...
Refer to Step number 1 in my entry "How To Be Me - In My House"

I brought up the thought of working at Walmart... with R.
In the Crafts and fabrics,
or clothes and apparel...
That way I don't have so much on my plate constantly..
I'd still have to interact with customers,
but it wouldn't be too much...
I would have time to recharge between interactions...
and I'd have an area to be able to wander,
with isles and shelves hiding me,
not having to remain on display at a register.
with hundreds of eyes on me,
and people surrounding me at all times...
and having to scan fumble with money,
and interact with 100 people each day...

I tried explaining it..
But she wouldn't listen.

She said that the hours wouldn't be guaranteed...
That it would be easier on them if I worked at the grocery store with a normal day hours so they can shuttle me back and forth...

And yeah... I know... it matters how easy it is on them...
They shouldn't have to drive me....
If I just had mental stability..
So I'm so afraid of everything..
If I weren't such a nervous wreck...
I'd have my driver's license and be able to take myself to and fro.

But what about how I feel?
What about me?
Is it selfish to want to work somewhere I can somewhat handle...
Even if it meant they'd have to drive at weird times?
I don't leave my house unless with family...
I don't leave their side in stores.. and I'm almost 19.
The last time I slept in another person's house was 2013.
I have crippling social anxiety and panic disorder..
I crumble so easily..
Even though they don't know about the anxiety...
They know that I'm not strong...

I fought back tears while we had this discussion at dinner...


I'm so afraid...
It's keeping me from experiencing a full.. meaningful life.
Tears are pouring down my face....
How can someone like me survive in a world like this?

The other day, I had to go into the store myself.. while grandpa waited in the car.
She gave me 2 five dollar bills.
I was sent to get a box of crackers...
and a diet, calorie free pepsi for my grandma..

I searched and searched and I couldn't find the damn saltine crackers.. even though I've been in that store a million times.
I started panicking... because I knew if I took too long, I'd get chewed out, and since it was only two things, it shouldn't take but a minute and it was already taking too long..
I finally found the crackers..
and I looked all over the isle with the soda... no diet calorie free pepsi to be seen...
As I stood, a really skinny grumpy-looking man walked through the isle I was in, and that's normally when I turn, exit the isle, walk down the one beside it, and reenter it from the other side and keep looking... to avoid being alone in an isle with someone else.
To avoid someone else passing by me..
Potentially grabbing me, pulling out a knife/gun and threaten/use it on me.. just.. being very paranoid.
But this time, I couldn't.. I hesitated too long..
so I held my breath and stared forward while he passed, giving me a weird scowl.

I stood behind a lady at the register who was just amazing with her young daughter...
It was cute to see...
I reached into my pocket and was very careful to remove just one of the bills to pay for the crackers and a pack of gum for myself
(I payed the $1.50 back out of my own money)
It was a little tricky.. you know how you try to pull only one thing out of your pocket, but try to push the other stuff down so it doesn't come out with it?
I was doing that hoping the other bill didn't fall to the floor...
It was tricky to try and feel the other bill so I could separate it from the one I need,
After that, I'm sure that it didn't fall out, but I didn't look to see.. because other people were behind me, and I didn't want to make eye contact.

Side Note:
A habit I have when checking out.. because I'm so bad with numbers..
And it would take me far too long to count it out.
Is handing the cashier more than enough to pay for my items..
Something I'll have to do when I get older.. if I don't have a smart phone, is carry around a calculator when I shop... *Sighs*

Anyway, I get home, and I'm nervous to tell her they didn't have her drink.. because I'm afraid of her lashing out.. telling me how I just didn't look hard enough etc...
I tell her, she takes it well..
Then, I feel better... I even remember thinking how I didn't fuck this up this time... but that's short lived.
I only spent one of the 2 5s she gave me, so I start to give her back one of the other $5 bills... but it's not in my pocket...
I screamed inside how come I always manage to fuck everything up...
How I always manage to do SOMETHING wrong..
Then I begin frantically apologizing.. hoping she won't yell at me...

She tells me to call the store... (Cue heart attack)
So, I call.. using the most polite voice ever and ask if they see a 5 laying around to which they do not.
I begin panicking as she tries to tell me to tell the lady on the phone to look outside.. and so I say thank you a million times because I don't know how to fucking end a phone call...
It results in the lady hanging up.
I just say thank you again to nobody on the line, so they wouldn't know and hang up the phone myself...

She tries to give me change..
I get confused, and then a realization dawned on me...

I asked her how many 5s she gave me...
She tells me she gave me just one 5 dollar bill.
She thought I lost my own 5 dollar bill..

*Facepalm*


This is everything I never wanted to live through as a child..

When I was young.. I struggled with the anxiety then too..
I just didn't know what it was..
The thought of going to college and getting a job scared me shitless...
I marinated in worry and dread and large amounts of irrational fear of having to change schools and buses when I entered a new grade.
I was a nervous wreck the summer before I entered the 6th grade... because it was a new building with new kids..
and I'd have to ride a new bus.

I remember, back when I used to believe in god as a kid..
That I had made up my mind.. that it was far too much.. far too scary to live passed a certain age... which was probably 15 because that meant I'd have to get my learner's and learn to drive like R.
If I made it through 15,
I didn't want to live to see the end of high school...

I decided that, I'd pray to god when I felt it was time,
And I would ask him to take me in my sleep.
That way, I wouldn't have to face any of this..


That plan backfired, obviously..
And I'm not sure if it were for the best or not...
It turns out that the fear of death is stronger than the fear of life...

For now.


It's so frustrating and nerve wrecking...
What if I can't handle it?
What if I can't make friends with anyone I work with because of my social anxiety? That will make it even more worse...
If I can, how much can I let them know about me?
Not only does this impact psychologically... but,
I'm in horrible shape.
I'm overweight, and I have a bad leg...
It's clear that I sit the majority of my day...
I'll be required to stand up for a HOURS... standing up is only the beginning.... I'll have to walk a lot..
I thought that we were going to discuss having me be hired as a handicap... but we didn't, and every time I bring it up.. I get shot down.. I don't understand why..
I'm weak...
What the fuck do I say when I'm interviewed... what if my social anxiety/awkwardness messes me up during the interview.. what if that's the reason they decide not to hire me?
Should I mention my social anxiety during the interview?
I don't fucking talk to people, what the hell do you mean references can't all be family members... it's all I have..
What if I have a horrible manager?
What if I get chewed out by customers? (I read tales from retail on reddit.)
What if I fall apart in front of customers...
What if I have a panic attack at work..
what if someone makes me cry and I can't hold back the tears?
What the hell am I going to do when I'm on lunch? Where do I go.. what if I can't manage my time and be late?
What if I need to sit down because my legs... what if I get in trouble? What if I do something wrong... what if I get confused or stuck with a problem I don't know how to fix?
What if I can't contact a manager or coworker when I need help?
What if I get fired?
And then after I get fired.... how am I going to explain to the next employer.. the fact that I got fired will seriously damage my chances of getting hired at another job..

I'm so... scared.. and you know what?
That feeling.. that need to look for an escape..
That feeling I had as a kid.. that death was the only way out of this...
It's returned.. and I can't get the thought out of my mind.
I can't stop picturing what it'll be like.. afterwards...
How do you explain that to someone?
I don't know what else to do...
If suicide is just easier than trying to function in society..
I cant get the thought out of my head that maybe I'm not writing any of this for myself in the future...
but for the people in my life after I'm gone..


Because how the hell do you write a suicide note on one page?
I can't.. I can't explain how come I can't bear living like this any longer and that death is the only way out...
How can you explain to the people you love, where and how it all went wrong... how can you explain how everything began to decline..?
How can I explain that even though to them it was sudden, to me I was dying little by little each day...
How none of the reason why was recent at all, but rather gradual...
One thing just led to the other.. and it all built up to the point where I just can't deal with it anymore..

Everyone says after a person kills them self,
how they never saw it coming... that they had no idea...
And I know my family wouldn't ever think that I feel this way...
That I think of killing myself everyday...
Even if I'd never do it... but it still replays in my head over and over.
I don't think in detail how and when...
I mostly think about how the people in my life would react to it...
How they'd finally realize how disturbed I really am..
How little they actually knew about me, how much I had to hide...
and how horrible they made me feel...
Part of me wants them to find my writings...
So they can see the downward spiral...
So they'll know what I felt... what I did every day...
What I went through... when I cried.. when I struggled..
So they'll know how much I needed them...
How much I needed them to understand that I have serious issues, and that I'm just really good at hiding them.. because I have too.

Something I can't stand is... the fact that after I die..
I'll be forgotten...
No one will remember me.... and I'll have nothing extraordinary here to leave behind..
Because of the boring, shut in life I lived because my anxiety and depression kept me chained up..
No one will know the person typing these words.... in the early hours of the morning on a Tuesday..
No one will know that I'm still very afraid of the dark, and have to have some sort of light on, and extra lights in reaching distance at night time...
No one will know that Josh M. was really the first person that I loved... who loved me too.. and he lives nearly 1000 miles away...
I met him online 3 years ago.. and 2 weeks ago, we parted ways.
No one will know what he really meant to me.... what I really wanted him to become in my life...
No one will know we talked as if we were married....
We were so sure that we'd marry someday, and that I was going to wear a tux on or wedding day...
We were going to have a cat named sneakers...
No one will know that or the story behind the name...

No one will know how much I miss him...


All of these things will die along with me...
No one will know I existed.


That's why I can't write a suicide note on one page...
That's why a collection of writings is better to leave behind...
Because in a way.. I'll remain alive through the writings...


I hope she forgets tomorrow.

I hope if she remembers, she'll let me apply for what I feel better about..

Sincerely,
WhoCares?





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