An Open Letter

I never had courage.

Yesterday during my second phase of interviews I quickly googled if I could take two of my beta blockers, for my anxiety – and with my specific medication they highly warned against it for risk of death. I saw a line saying that medication was one of the most at risk for suicidal people, due to that danger. I have bottle after bottle of it, as I keep getting the prescription and it builds up.

I never had courage and I'm thankful for that I think. I think it was venlafaxine I kept swallowing that day in the closet trying to kill myself before my dad found me. I remember him crying. I'm happy I at least remember that rather than not being aware of it, or anything for that matter.

I think about the experiences I've had and how I cannot be alone in them, but yet here I am. I've been somewhat haunted by the thought of no one being there at my graduation. Like there will most likely be my parents, my girlfriend, and then no other close friends. I've almost romanticized this idea by now, on how I've proven that humans don't need social connection, by living with so little of it. I know I'm delusional in saying that, but I guess I want some way to cope and quantify the way I'm feeling. I think I would be a good friend, at least I hope I would be; but I find myself in this spot again and I can't help but feel like this is simply what I'm doomed to. Maybe things would have been different if I was adopted by someone like V, but instead I've been here, where I lay.

I have such a deep-seated bitterness in my chest every time I see brotherhood, or friends or shit like that on TikTok, since that's something I've so violently longed for. I see racist towns in the south and I get jealous because of their sense of community. It's not my fault I grew up with no one but online people because my parents refused to let me socialize, let alone do their job and help me with that. And so here I lay.

It feels like the end. And then what will I feel once that passes? Will that feeling just hang in the air, like a never ending promise that the conclusion is right there in front of me? Or will I feel ok, until this feeling comes back. I don't man that last sentence in a depressing manner, but rather as an inevitability. Either things change, or they end. It will never stay the same forever. Am I just supposed to be kind to myself until this passes? Will it pass? It threatens to consume me whole. I feel so fundamentally incompatible with this world as a whole. I just don't fit into this life I picture is normal no matter how I try to shape myself. But I know that I'm not alone in this feeling. There's two sides to this coin and it feels like they both don't matter. No point obsessing about flipping wrong when it's irrelevant. I think I'll be kind to myself until I'm better.