No shame here. No apologies. Here I share my honest dark thoughts unfiltered.
I still have a teenager’s fantasy of suicidal revenge. Terminal illness would work too.
I would write short notes to anyone who ever abandoned me— not just drifted apart, the ones who were integral in my life and became deliberately absent— those are the people I want to be haunted by my death. To be tortured by it. After a lifetime of repressing my own needs, of muzzling myself from expressing feelings of hurt, having minimal expectations of others, of never getting outwardly angry or upset, of accepting blame and responsibility in any situation in order to avoid or resolve conflict… to try to save people from being hurt by me even if it’s just me being honest about my own humanity and human needs.
I want to release it all before I die…I want to be real and scream and have the last word so I can’t be traumatized afterwards. So i can be forthcoming without gaslighting or blame shifting or projecting guilt or narcissistic anger in response. That i will only be real if I’m freed of the shackles of the emotional hell i expect in response to revealing my honest feelings …. that only in those moments before I die can I finally be authentic.
And it will reveal the charade I’ve kept to be a good person because it will be my great revenge. It will unmask me as an awful person who harbored nasty feelings of resentment and revenge and like a pestilence it will make all others feel like awful people too. That in the case of my suicide …. they may even bear responsibility for my death. They will have to convince themselves of own goodness and justify their actions in a tortuous loop in ways i could never make them even for a moment entertain while alive. Only my ghost has that power.
What would my notes say:
I wish you had forgiven me.
I wish you had tried to be in touch.
I wish you had paid attention when i was in crisis and asked for help.
I wish you had made time in your life for me.
I wish you had admitted how you hurt me.
I wish you wanted to stop hurting me.
I wish you had wondered how i was doing.
I wish you believed me.
I wish you had put in a little effort to understand, to realize how your small actions can have a big impacts on me.
I wish you had valued my presence in your life.
I wish you had valued my humanity.
I wish you had valued me.
I have never had the license to be a super flawed or self destructive or an emotionally reactive person and still be loved. In the most human way. I should have never been allowed myself to believe my mental illness made me these things because it was my self consciousness of this that made me be hyper-responsible, hyper-independent, and put everyone else’s feelings ahead of my own. I honestly didn’t fuck up anything.
I wish that i hadn’t spent all these years trying to be a loving compassionate and fun person, and trying to hide all my dark sides if i knew you would reject me anyways.
Am i a bottomless pit of need for love and affection? Maybe. I need a kind of love and validation to make me stay alive and no, it’s not something i can solely draw from within. Congrats to all the people who have learned to love themselves and don’t feel reliant on others. You’ve won the big reward of wanting to be alive vs those who wish we were dead. Go get your ribbon. Feel smug and proud.
But i hurt. Even when i survive and rebuild and by outer appearances flourish, i hurt. I still hurt.
And in my great revenge you will hurt too.
Inside My Madness 