I am going to die alone. That’s the one thought that’s been haunting my brain all day, the one sentence that echoed in my head as I spent all evening laying in my bed, not eating dinner, not checking Discord, avoiding everything else. I am going to die alone. I spent a solid four hours curled up in a ball, crying on my bed, because I am going to die alone.
The thing is, I made this choice. I am choosing to die alone, because I’d rather that be the outcome than to break someone else’s heart. I’d rather die alone than ever hurt someone like that again. Sure, I’ll have friends and maybe a romantic partner or two but, in the end, I’m going to die alone. I’m not going to want anyone beside me, anyone watching me fade away into nothingness. There’s always the off-chance that I’ll die in a fiery car accident or be eaten by a bear, but even in those situations I would hope I’m alone so no one has to be in the wreck with me or watch me get mauled by a bear.
I chose this. I still choose this. So the only thing I can think is that today is the cause of a chemical imbalance. The first day in almost a year that I can say is rooted completely inside me, and not due to any external factors like guilt, shame, or grief. I think tomorrow I may call my counselor up and schedule a on-off appointment, and discuss the possibility of medicine.