Read and die

I’m failing college, and therefore wasting both time and money. I’m eighteen and existentially distressed, so how my parents think I know what I want to do in life and how they think that I can put on a happy face and go to college is beyond me. I have no one to consider what I should do with my life with. My parents say “college.” There’s simply no other option.

I don’t know what I want to do in life, to be honest. I’ve had ideas, but they all never worked out. I thought I might want to learn programming, but it’s boring, and boredom is depressing as hell. I’ve also wanted to get into 3D modelling, but that’s stupid. Where I live, there seems to be nowhere to learn about this subject, so I’m stuck wondering where to start.

My life had been a series of accomplishments and satisfaction until later in high school, when I had an epiphany and realised that life was pointless (which I don’t feel like discussing here). I was taking chemistry and physics classes, and was overwhelmed. My teacher didn’t know what was wrong with me. I just told her I was “sick.” I barely passed both classes, but learned about some ways to die and inflict pain on others. I think that she thought that I was retarded or something, because each test I took was almost always below a B. I couldn’t focus at all that year.

Many people that I enjoyed meeting who were seniors were going to be graduating and I would never see them again. I also found out that some of them didn’t like me like I thought they did. My friends and I became distant. They all wanted to talk about mass media and video games. I wanted to talk about whether or not life had any meaning, I wanted to discuss suicide or philosophy, I wanted to learn more about global issues, and so on. Eventually, I just stood around and they never seemed to want to talk to me about anything. Sometimes I would talk to them, and they’d say something like, “Yeah, sure.” Assholes. I hate them so much. The tone that they used was simply awful. They didn’t even try to sound like they cared. It’s like they thought I was stupid.

I’d spend much of the time at break walking around the school, trying not to look like I was lonely, trying to look like I was searching for someone. I suppose I really was. Some days I wanted to cry. I’d often not do my homework because I wanted to fill in that time of loneliness. I suppose things have gotten better since then, and by that, I mean at least some of my feelings are fading away. My friends are gone, no doubt. I don’t know where they’ve moved to, they haven’t contacted me, and they’re probably doing just fine, possibly even happy in their own worlds. I didn’t go to either their or my own graduation, because there really was no point, unless I wanted to burn up in a black robe and toss a cap into the air, expressing how I was finally freed from that emotionally draining societal prison called a school.

I’m supposed to be taking some tests soon to find out whether or not I have any mental problems, which I find depressing. I’ve been prescribed medications, which I feel like only exist to mask the problems. They can make the existential loneliness more bearable for a while, but I know that when I’m off, I’ll go through withdrawal. I might go back to looking up suicide methods. It’s really hard to be optimistic when optimism is what brought me down so low.