No one truly understands.
This is crazy. I have lost count the number of days I have been in my room, on my bed, just cooped up hoping that the day will get better or if not, a better tomorrow. Each time it does, the glimmer of hope will soon be overshadowed by all the what ifs. Should I be willing to take the risk for happiness that can't be guaranteed?
Some days, the room gets smaller, it gets tighter, darker and scarier. And then I take a glimpse out the window supposedly for a breather and decide that it is safer (in) here. My curtains are not drawn. I don't intend to change a thing about it. All I can hear are the vehicles passing by - the cars, the bikes, the planes. I have not looked at myself nor feel good about myself for days/week now. I feel like I have lost my soul. No one to blame but me. Each time things get better, something will happen just to take it all away from me. Like God is telling me that I don't deserve a life, that I don't deserve happiness.
I watched all sorts of youtube videos hoping to help myself. Hoping that by tomorrow, I will be able to bounce back and be my old self, put on some make up, play around with eyeshadows, blast music, dance, feel confident, drive out and just feel good. But tomorrow never comes. What am I doing wrong? Is it really too much to ask for?
I have not done anything productive since. I have not been to work because the thought of it is daunting. Feels like just a few days ago I was having a decent time at work, being proud of myself to get through the shift being this pregnant, feeling accomplished, talking about my life to others and maybe I might have bragged a little, had a later night than usual and suddenly, just suddenly that became the last shift.
Screw all these negativities, he said.
Things then started to go downhill and it was not going to stop any time soon. My safest bet was to run away from it all not because I was scared but because I know I am not emotionally strong for any of it. I needed to get away, not for me because honestly I have no interest to fight on living in this cruel selfish world any more, but for the other heart beat in me.
I don't know if I am doing the right thing. For the most part, I do not want to introduce my baby into this world. I do not. This world is unpleasant. It is fucked up. It is just not worth living for. We are just puppets in this life. But a huge part of me too can't wait to have him in my arms and have my life revolve around the little one and watch him accomplish (hopefully) a better life than me.
I keep telling myself that one more blow and I will call it quits. But each time it happens, blow after blow, I have to tell myself to be strong and keep fighting to just stay alive. It is a battle. My heart says no but my brain says to do it for the little one. This year has been just about pleasing others. It revolves so much on others that I have forgotten what it is like to be happy for myself for once. Everything I do is never enough and it will be intercepted by others who thinks they know better.
I need to disappear.
The silence is deafening but I need to heal. Maybe soon I will see colours again, if not in this world, there's the afterlife too isn't it?