Despair

2005-08-05 - 1:10 a.m.

So the great big secret that I've been threatening to reveal is that I've been drinking again. Since November, sporadically.

And of course, there are some consequences for my actions, to be dealt with.

In other news, I'm pretty darn depressed right now, and don't have many avenues available to me to help. Part of the problem is me: there are lots of great and wholly practical solutions to at least a few of my problems, and I'm not likely to take them.

I'm too old to think I'm broken, but I guess I'm not quite too old to think about dangerous things.

I can count on one hand the reasons against suicide:

1) I have no way of doing it without hurting the people I care about.

2) I'm likely to make a mess of it, because I am a goober, and I don't really relish the idea of waking up in a hospital after a failed suicide attempt, because no matter how hard things are now, I'm pretty sure they would suck even more with doctors and loved ones watching me.

When I'm okay, I'm sure there are more reasons against suicide, but when I'm not okay, those are all I have. It sucks, because it's the stupidest sort of situation ever, and I have a pretty hard line against someone taking one's own life.

I am seeking help, in my clumsy, procrastinator's way. This isn't right.

The thing I hate, though? The thing that I really hate? Is that it's so fucking hard to let anyone know how close I am to actual despair. I try to let people know, and then I end up telling jokes or demuring or whatever, until it's all okay. It's like the best thing ever would be if I could just scream in front of everyone, just scream until my throat was bleeding. If something could happen to stop me from making light and telling people that things are okay.

I'll probably have an explanation for this entry later, about how it's not so bad (and it probably isn't; I just need to make better decisions), but I'm going to keep this entry here. I need this to be out.

Cheers,

The Magus

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