still freaking out

I have to choose between giving up everything I own including any way of shelting or caring for myself.

or

my freedom and self will/choice. Wether this is going to jail or giving over to Dan.

My life, as existing. 

Which really looks the most attractive.  Because imaginary or not, I always hurt.  I cannot connect to the world or get enough to stave off suffering.

I cannot hoppe to "dig myself out of this hole" or "pull myself up by my bootstraps" because this is absolutely beyond me.  

I couldn't cope when I was young and fresh.

I can't call mental health line, it won't accept numgers with an outside prefix.  Plus which, what would they do? Suicide line absolutely hung up on me. I had way too much to say. 

Ultimately, I don't just want to be heard. That's what this is about, right here.  It's equal to sitting and nattering at someone who is expected to do nothing and will do nothing. But it's consequence free. Which is not the case when nattering to humans. They have all these little secrets, like calling police to tell them they think you're going to harm yourself. Orthat you need involuntary commitment.  I don't know, but they don't trust me and I don't trust them either.

I think the meat of the matter is that I am not permitted to have a life if I am not conforming to the expectations of my society in the expected format.  I'm not being a good little something. I don't know what I'm not doing right.  'but clearly, I'm doing it wrong. I always have. So,m like my motherr told me, over and over, I'm not allowed to be happy, and every damn employed human, whatever their job, agrees on that fact. They don't always agree right away, but atsome point, they all concede, I am one who deserves to suffer.  Not die.  Suffer long. 

What if that is true?  

Thougth experiment, how does that work? 

No, it's unthinkable. Unimaginable.  I had the rudeness to ask what the cshelter is like.

camp mats on a basement floor in a church.

It'll keep you alive. I tried to ask what keeps him going.  He couldn't give me a sensical answer,just slapping his left breast and saying "puts ma," or something.  "This keeps me going."  I think he was making a variant of "chutzpah" as in, I'm strong willed." 

which is not explaining what motivates in a way I can grasp.

I don't kow what makes a human ale to do that.  Dudes were homeless years, the one had just had most of his toes broken in an assault.

I'm supposed to go live like that?

What the bloody fuck did I ever do to deserve it? Why would I? Why can't I quit? There's no up from there/.  If there wa, there would be an up from herre, and already, there is no way out. 

And how do I escape?

How do I escape? Why am I facing this?  I've exhausted my options.

Look, it's like this.  If there is no reason or rhyme to it and it can happen to anyone and it's just the breaks, that means there is no reason or rhyme to existence. Again, I ask, why then should I continue? I have no future. There is no supernatural  There are no plans or intentions or fate or inner purpose or soul.  

Then why must I live through it?

If there is anything supernatural, any reason, then why am I being treated so cruelly even now? I mean, some character building is great, but hello, I"ve got one hell of a character now.

I just don't know what I'm going to do.  How to dodge this most heinous life without making a scene, risking failure, risking someone else, traumatizing others, and etc? Like, what do I do? Does a ladder suddenly finally pop out of the thin air above me, beckoning me out?

I've imagined that so often.Just this ladder.  

Dr. Who made an episode with an invisible TARDIS doing just that and it was so trippy to see my image on tv. I guess I am not the only one who has imagined the ladder to another world.

Other times I have thought maybe one day I would turn just right, at just the right angle, or step between just the right two trees, and be somewhere sane where there's enough for all.  Where I can just contribute without having to first prove it's worth something.

I don't know how to prove anything. Not anything.

The other night I opened up to a woman I've been pen pal friends with since 2019.  She helped out when I was travelling and has kept in touch since. I opened up a ton about my magic self and I think it destroyed the relationship. 

At first it was ok, talking about trees, bu I kept going. Now I'm a bullshit artist.

Well, if I can't talk to her, what's she for? We don't live near enough for anything else, eh?

No I need to remember, never tell anyone about myself, they never believe a damn word.

Not if you talk about your body.

Not if you talk about your spirit.

Not if you talk about your emotions.

Not if you talk about your knowlege.

Nothing. Not even your own experience  on the world is going to be believed. 

When they decide you are full of shit, the relationship is over.  It began with shallow interactions and died the moment it got deep. Get it?  Was only a paper moon.

See, this is the thing, how do I take care fof myself with nothing but my own two hands? Living on scavenging? Go criminal? What the hell do I do? Scam like everyone thinks I am doing? Yeah, as if I have it in me. That's the ironic part, really, I"m not capable of it.  

Everything I do is viewed in a lens of manipulation.  One I don't understand and can't navigate.  How then should I defray this perception? How could I possibly anticipate and head off such an impression?

I don't know how to get over this. I don't know how to sleep, eat, function at anything with this in my head.  I can't live and I don't know how to die.