A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Back when I was in high school, the student council (or whoever the heck it was) used to write everyone’s name on a heart and post them in the hallways of one of the buildings. What you were *supposed* to do is take the one with your sweetie’s name on it and wear it. Or something. I think.

What *I* used to do every year is peruse through every damn name on the wall looking for a certain someone, sneak it into my backpack when no one was looking, and scamper off before I could get caught.

My first love.

We used to get together and make out and marvel over each other’s naked bodies and no one ever knew. We didn’t even see each other at school unless I stalked him in the parking lot. Our little secret. For the majority of my childhood and teen years, I thought I was destined to end up with him. It always made me panic a little. We weren’t right for each other, but I didn’t want to admit that I was madly in love with someone who could never really be mine.

After a lot of thought and careful consideration, I have decided that someone needs to shoot me and put me out of my misery.

If I were dead, I wouldn’t have to worry about which medications I’m taking and deal with the dosage change effects. The fact that I can’t seem to get past the physical changes my body suffered- and yes, I say suffered because they’re certainly not positive things- from pregnancy and childbirth wouldn’t make a damn difference. I wouldn’t have to struggle with my consistent sudden fear that I’m fat or fight the urge to starve myself while forcing food down my throat. The mistakes James and I have made in our relationship wouldn’t matter. My constant obsessive thoughts that my husband has zero sexual attraction to me would be a thing of the past. My kids wouldn’t have to deal with a crazy mother who will someday stress them out despite my efforts to not lean on other people. Paranoia, OCD, depression, and anxiety would be gone. All the shit in my life, obsolete.

I’ll keep fighting. There’s no sense in popping a bottle full of pills and ruining people’s lives. I’m not that selfish.

But dammit, I’d love it if someone else would be willing to do the honors.

My eyes are closed.

P.S. Prozac and Wellbutrin, you’re welcome to kick in anytime. It’d make this shiteous thing called life a bit more bearable.

Current Mood: Sad