I'm set on a downward spiral.

Regardless of the thought processes I have during therapy that makes sense and will tell me to break away from these overwhelmingly oppressive compulsions, I give in so easily and sink to newer and stranger places that I thought I would never have a business being apart of. Part of it feels like long term self harm. I don't eat well even though I can. I let food go bad and stare at it in the fridge. Wasting money online for absolutely no reason, maybe just to feel a ounce of emotion. Every thought becomes tainted with the obsession to not be here. If I'm not rotting my brain then I'm dousing it in chemicals trying, yet again, to feel and ounce of emotion. I had so much and lost it. Rebuilt myself, and got crushed in a newer, more painful way. I still have a great deal of friends and family that I desperately try to nurture. But I wouldn't be my own friend. I'm so inconsistent it's ridiculous. The only sense of consistency left is my dog, because she's the best. Pic included. I lie constantly trying to guilt myself into doing better things, setting myself up for failure by agreeing to impossible tasks. Pretending like I had a plan the whole time is exhausting. I've worked on it a lot but sometimes I have to fake it and it burdens me. I'm sick of lying but I'm still mortified of people finding out about what I am behind closed doors. A waste of skin. A detriment to society. A cancerous mass that latches onto other more lucrative cells and feeds. At least that's what I think they'd see me as. Which is morbidly irrational and just, false... I realized awhile ago that I am not a bad person. I know that progress not perfection is the way to go. And I know that savoring good intentions is more important than the moments we falter. However I fear that the progress won't progress quickly enough and I won't be able to take it. Suicidal Ideation pours it's vile grease into your brain and it becomes impossible to wipe off or clean as it spreads its muck from thought to thought like a disgusting sponge that hasn't seen soap in years. It's become such a second nature to default to death. The quickest fix. All problems fall away and you get to stop. You don't have to do it anymore. And that allure is so intoxicating it makes your mind salivate in the most infuriating way. The noise would stop, the pain, the spiral, the ideation would become a reality and existence itself would swallow you... Or you live. And see what the next day holds. Feels like a shitty slot machine that you wonder how deep you'll go before you win. If you win. I'm so tired. I need a break from existence. I'll come back when I feel rested. Enjoy the puppy pic.