I don't mean to be disengaged. I don't mean to be rude. I don't mean to be dismissive. I don't mean to not value the interaction. I don't mean to be self-involved. I don't mean to not seem to care.
I can't risk being distracted of my focus. If my mind isn't totally focussed on what I've shoved into it, the knitting stitches, the words on the page, the images on the phone, the thoughts shove their way in.
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, if my mind isn't focussed, the thoughts are there. The thoughts deciding which would be the best way to die by suicide. Which would be the most pain-free, the least troublesome, the most accessible. The only way I can stop them, turn them off, shut them down, is to never let them in so much as a crack. The second I don't fill my head with ordered thoughts, those chaotic, destructive, and ever-tempting ones make their way right in.
I love you. I don't ever want you to think I don't care about you, that I value meaningless knitting or books or social media even nearly as much as I value you. I can barely hold on here though, and it's showing in these difficult, dissociative ways.
Please don't top talking to me.