Knowlingly alone

I have never felt more alone and confused. Today, I felt surrounded by monsters and amidst the fear and disgust I have come to find normal in their presence, I felt the shock and horror that no-one else had noticed. How could they not see? How could they not spot the discrepancies that scream at me so loudly I can barely look.

What makes this worse is that more recently I have begun to spot them amidst my colleagues and this is making work more and more difficult for me. I find it hard to look at them, to focus on what they are saying and to answer their questions without wanting to run, or scream and call them out to everyone as the impostor that they are.

Today, work was bad and then the journey between work and home tipped me from unsettled to just plain confused and alone. Silent in my own quaking fear as I found myself picking out more and more. It has got worse over the time I have been seeing them. At first it was just one or two, the initial taking over of the odd person here and there. The silent testers, to ensure they would not be noticed, I would assume. Of course it worked. No-one notices, so they they have begun to take over more and more.

I begin to fear for how long this will go on. How many do they need before they move on to whatever the next part of their plan is. I do not know the plan and I know of no way to stop it, or them. I can barely bring myself to write this. I am too scared.

Do they know yet that anyone can see past their glamour. Can spot them for their inconsistencies and wrongness? Can smell them? I am scared of what would happen if they knew. Would that make me a threat to their plans?

I feel tearful and alone. Sad and low and ultimately scared and disgusted that this can be happening around us. Increasingly. Slowly but definitely. One or two, I could ignore, I could shake off. I can't anymore. The colleague is that way now every-time I see them. There is no come or go, no 'what if it was just me in a moment'. There are too many moments and no-one else is noticing....

Flirting with inertia

I feel lethargic. Stuck in the vacuous cavern of my own melancholia. I sleep and I am restless, I move to try to focus and achieve an activity, for work, or play, and I want to curl up and sleep.

A restless existence that flirts with its own inertia. Constantly tidal waved by thoughts of my own decline and descent into madness, thoughts of death and how to get there and thoughts of what can be done to stop myself from swimming constantly against the tide.

I have tried to do all the things you are meant to do. I told my psych when I last saw them. I told my GP when I last saw them. I have informed HR and my boss. I have tried, and failed, on numerous occasions to call a crisis line. I have no voice for them. There is nothing but a gaping hole of a wound to my soul that I can find no band aid big enough for.

I am fast running out of fight. I know this, as I have been in this puddle of low before. I know the routine and run-of-the-mill stages of my own depression. Yet I can do nothing to stop it but watch and hold on for the ride.

I know that if this time round I reach the stage where I am taken to hospital, like last time. I want to be properly admitted. I only know this, because it is the one thing I walked away from last time, that I wish I had not. Maybe it seems odd to some people. Why would I want to be admitted to a proper ward. Simple. I want it recorded, I want it taken seriously. I do not want it brushed aside as an impulsive act or moment of indecision. Frankly, I spend so much of my life pondering ways of killing myself, it would be nice for the health profession to put as much thought into ways of helping.

I will stop now, or I will end up ranting, or crying, or both.

I just needed to write something. While it was here in my mind.