I’m feeling very alone tonight. Needy. Childlike. I don’t like it.
I think it’s all the bureaucratic crap I’m dealing with. I feel like I’m trying so damn hard to make my life work, but the people who could help don’t care and are only interested in figuring out how to deny me help. I feel like they want me dead. I’m not having serious/active suicidal impulses yet, but the thoughts are definitely there: “You could get out. You don’t have to deal with all of this. Nobody should have to live like this. It’s okay to give up.” And those thoughts feel like compassion for myself. Like kindness.
I want someone to help me.
No. What I want is for someone to take care of me. I want to be a child again, but this time surrounded by people who actually love me instead of people who say they love me but hurt me instead. I don’t want to be a grown-up anymore. I don’t want to have to worry how I’m going to afford food or pay my bills. I don’t want to have to decide between freezing and spending $500 to fill the oil tank or buy pellets for the stove. I don’t want to have to fight to get mental health services I clearly need. I don’t want to have to worry which medications my insurance is going to deny this month.
I want to be a kid. I want all those things to never even enter my mind. I want to not have to worry about anything. I want someone to hug me and scratch my back and play with my hair. I want someone to cook my meals and fold my laundry and wash my dishes. I want to have friends and never even think that they all secretly hate me. I want to believe that the world is beautiful and I’m full of infinite possibilities. I want to be held and cherished and loved.
But I’m just alone.