I’m sitting alone and sober in my hotel room, after 5 days of drinking until I stumbled walking. I’d have done it again tonight if I wasn’t made to hand over my alcohol and my money.
What am I running from? This pain in the center of my mass that feels all-consuming — well I’ve felt that before, and I stayed sober. Honestly, I feel that pain any time I’m left alone long enough with my own thoughts.
What did I have to lose that I’ve now lost that makes the consequences of drinking so much less severe? Hope — maybe not for a better future, but instead just that I’d be capable of tricking myself that the pain had gone away.
I’ve buried this pain before and I just can’t seem to do it again. It’s like I’ve hit rock with my shovel — I can’t dig any deeper, and all the other problems I’ve buried have filled the hole and become level with the surface. I don’t want to face it. There’s no way to dig myself out of this one and I’m scared.
I could stop drinking, but I don’t want to. If anything, I may just start using everything again. I’m not overwhelmed by a lack of inhibition — it’s a thought-out choice to no longer be in pain and to push myself a little closer to the edge. If I could just get drunk enough, just get high enough, destroy my life just enough that the pain is truly unbearable even when I’m far from sober — well then maybe I can just end it. There’s nothing I want more than for this pain to end. I’m just scared.
I really can’t figure out why I’m not ready to end my life now. I think that there’s people stopping me, but I don’t feel like that’s fair to them or to me. For some people, I don’t want to hurt them — my mother would be hurt, and to a lesser extent I think my father would be as well. I think other people give me warmth, and ultimately, I think that’s what needs to end. It’d be truly better for all of us if they didn’t stand in my way.
I’m frustrated because I’ve craved that warmth for as long I could remember — I’ve set myself on fire for it. M, Ma, K, A, C — countless other men whose moments of intimacy led me to feel less alone just for a minute. I could delude myself into believing that there was someone capable of wanting me despite my scars and my open wounds. But I ultimately chose someone that I’ve always felt alone with. There’s never been a single moment where I felt like D loved me, understood me, cared about me, wanted me, or was capable of seeing the world through my eyes. I’m his possession. It hurts so badly because I know for certain that it’s the best I deserve and that I’m probably even lucky to have him. He deserves a better wife.
I’m disgusting. I’m lucky to have D tolerate me. It’s truly absurd to think that I should throw him away when it’s been proven time and time again that any semblance of warmth I feel from someone will go away. I just need to put on a jacket and stop trying to find a reason to live in others. It’s just so intoxicating to not feel like you’re barely being tolerated — to feel like someone wants you there and that you’re not just a burden who’s falling further into debt by virtue of every polite act they do for you.
When the opportunity arises, I’ll be cutting off those who show me warmth. That’s what got me into this mess — and it’s not their fault. I had a jacket on, and I took it off because they made it tolerable without it. I can’t handle it when they’re gone, but to put the jacket back on I have to convince myself that they’re liars. I can’t make my home life tolerable when I can compare it to something else. I’m not entirely sure that the something else isn’t just an illusion anyways. So fuck it, what do I have to lose.
I can learn to live with the pain as long as it never stops hurting. I can’t just leave him instead – it would be cruel. Who knows, maybe I love him? I feel myself cringe even just writing that, so I’m much less sure of that.