01:xx
I hadn’t said anything else up until this point, but I think that thinking about the plane crash got me into a thought loop, and started questioning what my relationship really was to other people. How I felt I was living a lie to everyone I met, wearing a different mask depending on who I talked to. Faking everything until I made it work.
I couldn’t comprehend who I was supposed to be, or who I had become. How I had crafted this persona and person to be around people, and fit myself into that shape. I couldn’t comprehend and didn’t want to understand that I had to get a job again, pay rent and just live until I died. Didn’t want to keep on working just so I could live and then die, I’d rather skip right to the last step.
The reality of how I interacted with other people and who saw me as what, was entirely slapping me. I felt like no matter who knew me, they all got some variation of the same lie. I had just built a character and lived in a simulation, in the moment, trying to come up with my own role.
I had constructed this character out of lies and felt like everything about me was a lie. I didn’t want to accept that I had to just go and live as this person I had made. I hated the idea of living as someone, and working until I died. I wanted to throw the concepts of relationships and other people out the window, throw out the concept of enjoyment, skip straight to the last step and die.
I’d been keeping everything on the backburner, putting everything off until later, until I fucked around and found out, until whatever it was I had put off caught up to me. I understood it wasn’t sustainable, but this is how I had lived up until now. I’d built a life and character where I procrastinated everything until it was too late to change. I had been living in the moment for so long with so much always on the backburner that I had never given myself a chance to plan ahead.
I couldn’t seem to find a reason to keep going, keep on living, no matter the person who I was or who I could craft. I didn’t want to become this person I had constructed. I didn’t know what I wanted out of life, and didn’t want to accept that I just had to keep on living. I didn’t know where to go from here, and didn’t believe I was really playing the person I was. I didn’t want to accept that this is what I had been given, and who I had made.
I felt like I had crafted this person out of lies and didn’t see a reason to keep going, pushing up a mountain. I didn’t want to keep going, and was heavily contemplating suicide. Envisioning driving a knife into my chest, letting the people in my life continue living their stories without me. I wanted out, out of this life I had made, but I also didn’t want to be someone else’s burden, someone else’s body, to take care of. I felt completely worthless, and insignificant spec in the world with no reason to go on. Everyone who knew me, knew me as some version of a lie, so why should their relationship matter to me if they didn’t know me?
I’d built this persona and decided to live in it, and refused to accept that. I wished it could be as simple as being a frog and sitting on a leaf for the rest of my life, with nothing else to worry about. No hidden anxiety that I masked on a daily basis, put off for later. No burdens or promises or words. No procrastinating or thinking, or figuring out my life as I went along instead of ahead of time.