I’m gonna put down how I feel and all I want is to not be judged and criticized for it. So….here it goes.

I don’t think I can do it anymore.

The runarounds.

I just know going to Urologist A is a waste of time.

Just like Urologist B.

He won’t know what to do. He won’t fix my problems. And even the things he said he could do, he’s reluctant on doing so.

Even if he did do those things would I really want to be stuck with him?

I don’t. Because other urologists won’t see me then.

Maybe they won’t see me anyway. I don’t know. But he won’t help me.

He won’t.

The only thing I’ll come back with is another headache. And another hit. And looking at where I am right now, I don’t think I can take that.

Not without snapping or going insane.

I feel terrible all the time.

That I refuse to live but also that I might be too scared to kill myself.

I’m scared of a lot of things.

I can easily get triggered. The physical and mental pain is unbearable. I’m barely surviving.

Hope is scarce. I can barely stand to get out of bed let alone leave my room or go outside or go anywhere.

I can’t talk to anyone either. Even if they are helpful they won’t stay long. Not only will they not hold my hand, they’ll just simply leave a few messages and say their goodbyes and wishes.

That’s it.

And everything I’m feeling and everything I’ve done and haven’t done.

I’ve been called selfish, a liar, crazy, delusional, paranoid, nuts, that I deserve to burn. And suffer.

And that I deserve everything that happened to me and more.

Others or the people around here will tell me to cut my losses and move on but I can’t. I simply can’t.

So they’ll lash out or they’ll leave. Or both. Because I can’t fit in anymore. Because I don’t fit in anymore.

I can tell that I’ll die by the end of the year. I may even die before the next month rolls around. And there may be no way out of here but I still try to keep my hope up sometimes even over the worry of denying what’s right in front of me.

I can’t stop thinking that I am just a monster or an asshole. A person who deserve to die or be stuck here.

My body, my perception of the world, my mental health, my brain, may be permanently damaged.

Forever.

And it’s hard to cope with any of it.

This may simply be the end of the road for me. I tried and tried and tried despite others saying I didn’t try hard enough.

I’m done with others putting words in my mouth, making assumptions about me. And yet I still crave approval and contact with anyone, begging people for help.

I’m tired of begging too. So since I think it’s not worth it to vent out to others, I keep it to myself.

Why bother….

I might never be able to deal with the outside world again. I really do feel like garbage and that all hope of recovery is gone.

And people can say it’s not like that. The same old lines of hope over and over. But at the end of the day I’m still here. And every good thing I ever did is slowly being erased.

I’m sorry but I don’t see things ending well for me. I just see all of this as a waste of time.

I might as well cancel the Urologist A appointment before the 8th. So I can save myself the headache. And the heartache.

I know I still have to go outside to make calls soon. But until then, I’d rather just lay here.

(This is truly how I feel)