I don't know what is reality. Either it's those moments when I feel energetic and can see my life slowly taking something of a shape, or it's moments like right now when I know with overwhelming, crushing certainty that this is how far I'll get and that anything more is a fool's dream. So far the last type is in the overwhelming majority for as long as I can remember. I'm just living in the overtime granted to me by not actually dying in that suicide attempt, three years ago. Technically I seem to be undead.
Anything I decide upon to buy or do for myself is based upon how much I feel my existence is worth at that point or what kind of future I think I will have. Looking at how I haven't bought a single piece of clothing for myself since arriving in Germany even though I barely have any winter clothes and just keep wearing the same week after week. I still don't have a functional washing machine at this point, though. Another sign to myself that I'm not worth it. The barely functional kitchen I have assembled and failed cooking attempts so far also underline that I'm not worth it.
Finding a place to live in Germany has been a downright nightmare. I'm not sure it's really any better here than in the Netherlands. Either meant paying a lot of money for little in return. I of course ended up in an apartment of which I can not use part of the rooms because the floor in them has to be replaced and where the rolling shutters are so old that the insulation is gone so that cold air keeps flowing into every single room, making using the heating system somewhat futile. And did I mention the ticking from the heating system which forces me to sleep with earplugs in every night?
I'm sleeping on a mattress in the one room of my apartment I actually live in, because I do not have money for a real bed. I'm not sure I will buy one, though, because I do not feel I'm worth it. Same for food, I eat little and nowhere near as healthy as I used to, but I can not care too much, because it's all I'm worth.
Within two weeks I'm having a hearing in a discrimination case against my former Dutch health insurer back in the Netherlands. Though it's become a bigger case than I had anticipated, I still don't expect anything from it. Same for my autobiography. Nothing will happen and nothing will change, because I'm not worth it. All I can do is turn off my feelings and fulfill my obligations.
I will not get that final surgery as no surgeon can be found willing to help me. Because I'm not worth it. There'll be no help for my PTSD, because I'm not worth it.
I'm a little cog in life, only expected to keep turning happily. I'm supposed to grit my teeth and smile in public, while I cry in unbearable pain in private, because I'm worth it. I'm not supposed to strive to be happy or have dreams for the future.
Because I'm not worth it.