Virus

Just kind of a rant about my on-going battle with severe depression.

Suicide is more than a possibility or even an urge at this point. It's a theory as to how I may relieve myself of this incessant, emotional torture I willingly engage in everyday. Every menial event - social interactions, especially- I interpret negatively so as to provide evidence for what I suspect is inevitable. It's become an unrelenting obsession. It's a paradox. My resulting actions from the obsession traumatize me, literally. I've developed PTSD as a result of my recent actions. But the possibility is also like a security blanket. I'm petrified from the endless supply of uncertainty in life, and knowing that there's always a way to prematurely escape the pain comforts me. Still, I understand that this idea shouldn't comfort me, since to commit suicide would permanently deny me the ability to experience comfort or relief. It's stupid and irrational, but remarkably persistent. Not only has it manifested physically - with hives, heart palpitations, and nervous twitches - but my suicidal ideation has become a literal physical sensation. There's a concentration of hopelessness and worthlessness in the back of my skull, infecting and infiltrating all functions of my brain. My cognitive abilities have been rewired to contribute to my ultimate, total annihilation. My memory is an arsenal of trauma, activated by an inordinate amount of sensory triggers. Sights, sounds, and smells take me back to moments of severe suffering, and realizing I'm not currently experience said memory does nothing to alleviate the emotional stress I endure. Finally, the frontal lobe - responsible for speech - has regressed in it's development. I feel as verbally expressive as a toddler. I feel literally physically incapable of improvised speech, or as expressed in ordinary terms, talking. Meanwhile, this greatly inhibits my opportunity for post-traumatic growth.