Warning: possible triggers.
The body of missing OSU student Kosta Karageorge was found this morning and fuck it, I’m not a journalist, even though I had always thought I would be. I’m a person who has been watching this story with the rest of the city (the country) and hoping for the best but expecting the worst. When I read the text he had sent his mother the day he went missing apologizing for being “an embarrassment,” I knew. But it’s still a shock when you hear the cold truth. And as usual, when I hear about a suicide, I start to cry and I think Why am I still here instead of them? It should be me.
How selfish and narcissistic is that? Very. This is about Kosta and his family and friends, not me. But part of me desperately wishes I could give him back his life and I would be found in the dumpster instead. He had more to live for than I do and a much more optimistic future. As one psychiatrist told me, I’m a waste of space. I don’t contribute anything to society. So I think Someone like me should be dead, not him.
I’m so fucked up tonight. Hearing the news that another person has been lost to suicide is just the
excuse trigger (??) I needed to hurt myself but I’m still feeling too much. Think it’s time to move on to the Klonopin and see if I can stop this self-destructive streak. Don’t worry — despite how this all sounds, I’m not going to kill myself. I’m hanging in there and hoping for a better tomorrow. But tonight I need to zone out and shut down.
love to you all. I mean that. You matter.