About the nightmares that never came and a death wish

 It's been a few nights now. I thought that I would be scared of laying down because I might feel the fear I felt while screaming on the mud, but it's worst. 

I don't have nightmares or trembles.

It's instead the insomnia, it's the unstoppable thinking. 

All of the what ifs that I convince myself would have made things different. All the inexistent possibilities corrode my mind and the worst one, the most constant one...

What if I hadn't fought?

What if I had just laid there and accept whatever fate had for me?

What would happen with my existence then?

And I allow myself to go deep in my death wish, the one that is always above my head since my childhood as a dark cloud that never goes away, but the one that was repressed by the most basic human instinct: survival. 

It's hard to say how I wouldn't be here if my instincts hadn't kicked in and instead the rational side of me had surface at the time. How somehow my mind finds a sweet but sad comfort on the idea of my own death.

So there is no nightmares, no fellings about being sofocated by a bunch of bodies above me. Instead, the darkness of my room is filled with the insomnia and anxiety of staying alive, everyday without a clue and without a real purpose.

 

The weight of my existence is what actually leaves me without breath.

HBD 2 U

 Today is your birthday. And I think about all the gifts I gave you throughout the years and if, while holding her hand you still wear them, and if may be, you still think of me.

I've done so much to try and get away from you but I realize it's impossible.

Since last week I've been thinking what if I hadn't fought? What if I hadn't scream and cry and instead kept there, on the ground, just waiting for the weight of the people to crush my lungs and die?

I wouldn't be dealing with this day and you would had heard about me dying and, what would you had done then darling?

Would you shed a tear? Would you message my mom and said you were sorry? Would you visit my grave and left some flowers? Would you regret any of the things you did?

I feel so ungrateful with everyone who loves me for thinking this way.

It feels wrong how good it feels when I indulge in my death wish, but I just can't help it.

I've been thinking I actually passed away some day long time ago. I fell into the trap of loving you and all your lies and hurtful words fell over me. I stopped breathing so long ago, I'm dead so long ago but I was never buried.

But then, some how even when you crushed me to death, I was able to stand up, covered in bruises that don't seem to heal. And I'm blue, always blue cause I've haven't been breathing.

You didn't shed a tear. You didn't texted my mom and said you are sorry. You never came to see me with flowers. You were never sorry.

And today on your birthday, all I would like you to know is how I wish you had actually killed me.

Del 14/09/2022 y los huevecillos de mosca

 Desde que tengo 10 años tengo ideaciones suicidas. No me pregunte porque pero es un pensamiento recurrente al que ya me acostumbré a que exista, ocupando ram en el fondo de mi mente, como una mosca que gira al rededor tuyo fastidiando. 

A veces me permito divagar en la idea y pienso en la tranquilidad de una muerte elegida y controlada en vez de lo inesperado y tormentoso de cualquier otra muerte. Otras veces abro una ventana y dejo que la mosca se vaya aunque se que seguro hay huevecillos de ella en mi mente esperando a reventar y volar.

También me pasa que de repente tengo estos pensamientos sobre algo que va a salir mal y me voy a morir de repente. Paso debajo de un puente manejando y alucino que un carro me va a caer encima. Camino por la orilla de la banqueta para esquivar a la gente y mi mente me presenta en full HD 4k las posibilidades de que alguien me empuje y me apache una camioneta.

No me pregunten porque tengo estas ideas. Simplemente existen y he aprendido a convivir con ellas a falta de formas de no tenerlas.

Pero anoche fue lo más cercano que he tenido de morirme de veras. De verdad, de verdad, de veras.

Cuando la gente me apretujaba y sentía como mi cuerpo se encogía sin dejar espacio para el aire, mientras me retorcía en el lado gritando con todas mis fuerzas que alguien me ayudara, mientras pensaba que finalmente, FINALMENTE mi mente estaba en lo cierto y estaba por morirme, me negué.

No creo que estas ideas estúpidas se vayan después de esto. Al contrario, una parte de mi quiere convencerme que esto fue la muestra de como podría ser de horrible morirme y que mejor debería tomar control del asunto.

Pero otra parte de mi abre la ventana y deja que la idea vuele fuera. Pero veo a sus huevecillos creciendo adentro mío.

La parte que me hizo aferrarme a seguir luchando existe y aunque no sé cómo va a salir todo esto, seguiré tratando de pensar como solucionar el problema de las moscas.