This post is a bad idea

These days what keeps me alive is the knowledge my son can’t be left alone during the day. Once my husband comes home he doesn’t allow for those thoughts to continue so I stay free until my dreams. There has been a lot of to do lately over my decision to not feel awful when I go on Facebook. I would say feelings were hurt, but it feels more like they know they are better than me and miss the opportunities to revel in that feeling. I used to tell myself that being paranoid was a silly thing my brain encouraged. Why would anyone bother themselves with talking about me? I’m nowhere near that important. Now I know it wasn’t silly. There are actually people that feel I’m worth enough to keep down in this hole I’ve dug. My damaged brain feels justified and keeps growing with hatred for how I treat people. In July I was told it is my actions that are ripping apart families. In the last few weeks I’ve learned this is true. Many months ago my husband told me my child does need me, the more my brain ruminates on recent events the more I believe he is lying. Who could possibly need someone that treats people the way I treat them?

A few months ago I lost a classmate. In the wake of that tragedy my brain will not release the thought that it should have been me. The cause was something so simple that it could have easily been me. There will be a number of consequences as a result his death, if what I heard is true. There will be warnings, constant reminders of what happened. There will be snap judgments made by people that don’t know a damn thing.

I don’t have a clear train of thought, beyond that the only people who care are the ones that enjoy knowing they’re better than me. It’s nice to know where I stand at least, and my brain loves the continuous flow of degrading thoughts that are now impossible to stop. So there’s that.

 

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