Dear God. If you can hear me, I need your help now. I am drowning in the worst part of Bipolar Depression. I have nothing in my life to make it worth living. If I die tomorrow it won’t matter to anyone. I have been riding this low for months now and I think I want to end it all. Some days are good. Some days are worth living. As I type this, the screen is blurry from the tears in my eyes.
Why do I feel this way? I have so much to be grateful for. I have a car, I have all my needs met, I have a wonderful family, a man in my life who cares for me, even a wonderful penpal that writes me lovely words. Why am I digging at the bottom of the barrel for hope? Is it because I don’t have a career? Is it because I lost my drive and lust for life? Is it that I am approaching 40 and have nothing to show for it? Never have I questioned my mortality before. I live in a den of sin where I have multiple orgasms by showing my tits and moaning for old married men and their wrinkly cocks. Why do I get perverse pleasure out of pretending to be a 19 year-old looking for 70-year-old men on sex sites? Why do I want a grandpa to cum for me? It’s a sickness and I think it’s part of the reason why God has turned a blind eye to me.
I have no respect for myself. For many years, I have slept with men in the hope they would love me. I slept with men on the first date because I thought they liked me, but they were using me. As the years went on, I grew older and found the internet to fulfill my sick sexual fantasies. I want a man to respect and love me, but how will I achieve this if I have none for myself? I admit I won’t even try online dating anymore, because I always end up in someone’s bed too soon. I am weak and vulnerable and all a man has to do is say a few articulate charming words and he will get me in bed. Ultimately, isn’t what they all want anyway? I have been reading blogs for years now, and never did I see a man on a quest for love. All I see is whining women crying about their miserable lives, like I am doing now.
Has the digital age condemned us? Has God forsaken us in the name of science and technology? I envy people who have faith. I envy people who can FEEL. I envy anyone who doesn’t have mental illness. I have no strength and I want to die. I am tired of being fuck meat for men. I am tired of living in sin.
The penpal that I spoke of is my real chance to enjoy a courtship for once, to express real feelings and take it slow. But every day it’s becoming harder to write because I only receive one letter a day. What did people do when they had to wait weeks, or even months to hear from their beloved? I have to pull myself out of the niche of instant gratification. I need to take my time with this man. His life is in turmoil from his words, and I seem to be the only light he has. I shouldn’t be so selfish to extinguish my light. I mean, what will my best friend, (the love of my life), do? What will my parents do? What will my little sister do?
Dear God, thank you for the strength. Thank you for the clarity and ease for me to write down all my thoughts so I don’t fall into despair. I will not die today. I will get through on to tomorrow. Like Scarlett O’Hara said when she lost her Rhett, “after all, tomorrow is another day.”