Arthur asked why I still attended the exam, even if I memorised my candidate number wrongly.
Why bother studying if I want to die?
Today I missed an in-class quiz bc I didn’t go to school.
I guess I struggled to go to school (in general) before because I was scared what would happen if I didn’t. I was scared if I would actually give up studying/ going to class/ taking exams if I tried it once, because I knew missing it would not matter.
But why am I scared about that if I want to die anyways?
Do I actually wanted to die? It depends on the day. I am not sure.
Speaking of being scared, Arthur noted I am using a million ways to desperately avoid things (無所不用其極地迴避一啲嘢), which I agreed wholeheartedly and frustratingly. I think I am unwilling to admit I am very scared to even see what I am avoiding, so I don’t know what I am avoiding either.
He also brought up I told him ages ago that I didn’t trust him, to which I admitted but clarified I do trust him a lot more than others, but still not really trusting either.
I think perhaps I didn’t really trust anyone, not including myself, and I don’t know how trust is trust if we have to keep our boundaries maintained. As such I don’t trust myself in the ability to recover after seeing through my avoidance, if I have to open up my heart, and I don’t trust anyone in their ability to support me behind my back, because I haven’t truly leaned back onto someone reliable and supportive before. I just believe I would break.
I was almost determined last week to see a psychiatrist and get medication to fix my functioning, as I was bedrotting too much- not studying at all for the exam, sleeping almost all the time, showering every 5 days, omading the last few days due to lack of appetite… But when I finally began to feel my emotions and trying to articulate it through therapy, meditation eradicating my feelings is doing the opposite work. It seemed as if I have fallen into another opportunity for avoidance- of my own feelings and a chance to look inside of me.
Today afternoon I went to have lunch and watched Chainsaw Man: Reze with Charlotte and Ruby. It was interesting, but I was a bit drained and things seemed further away from me again. I skipped school and I was already this tired. The occasional thought of dying resurfaced briefly and it was okay. Walking home looking at the sunset, I was thinking, would it be better to feel my feelings vividly, with all the colours pounding before my eyes, or experiencing them through this pair of plastic gloves? I feel safer looking at it from a distance, but I could not taste it, nor see it clearly with my myopic eyes, and it is dull. But it serves its function of protecting myself from the agony of the unknown yet vibrant splatter of vomit, the giant and suffocating concoction of emotions.
I am just scared. To walk closer.
