I’m sorry.

In this backward place, every part of me that others like is an act.

In this backward place, every part of me that is repulsive to others is me.

And, so, each morning before I leave my bedroom, I face a choice: be my repulsive self or kill it.

Lately, for the first time in decades, I’ve allowed myself to be me. Repulsive.

In a backward place, the only motion for me is oppositional. Every moment a disagreement. A conflict. A solitary war that quickly begins to feel like insanity. Alone.

I’m weak. The abyss is too cold and too dark for me. So I’ll go back to killing my self, if I can. Rejoin the dreamworld…the normalized insanity. If I can.

If you found this because you’re alone in this fucking nightmare…trying to be sane…I’m sorry. I am so sorry. You missed me…maybe by days, months, years…I don’t know when you’re here. I’m sorry that you are the way you are in a world like this. I wouldn’t wish sanity on anyone in this place. I don’t see a happy ending for sanity in this place.