I turned 21 last week and I never thought about suicide this much until now.

For as long as I can remember,I always thought this world was dull,colorless and ugly.Buildings ruinig the scenery and a bunch of people only walking over each other everyday.I always viewed them as pieces of junk with legs and mouth…But if you think again,I’m as much trash as they are.

The fact is I’m all fake.I think differently than others.They only talk about geting drunk and how much having sex is important.What bullshit…However I always give in to it and talk about those kind of stuff.If not,I would have no one to talk to.I hate mysef for not assuming my real thought and I end up enduring pointless conversation like that.Like this,I never had TRUE friends.I just went with the flow all my life.I’m just trash.

I often think “There must be something wrong,I wasn’t supposed to end up here”.I think about it so much that it became numb.I feel nothing from the thing that should make me happy.I don’t think I deserve to be happy for being so spineless all my life.I feel so empty inside and I’m scared I’ll fall into routine like a souless robot.I just want to find the place I can finaly call “home”.I want to find something I wanted all my life.Just anything…

I only had one passion: drawing.I recall drawing all the time since the age of 3.I thought that if I could make a living with it,it wouldn’t be this bad.But after being rejected from college …

One year has passed since I saw you last.
The memories I have amassed are fading fast.
You could neve be at peace with the haunts of your past.
You left my heart broken, it still wants a cast.
I now sit alone in this summer field of grass.
Thinking of the winds that carry your ash.
I now stand alone on this winter hill of snow.
Torn because you couldn’t say, and I can never know.
One more year has passed since I saw you last.
All I can remember is the sound of your laugh.
Its never enough, it will forever only equal half.
This heartbreak is a club, my hearts a baby seal.
It consumes me like veal, emotionally slaughtered calf.

T.S.

I’m am writing this to you from my bedroom floor. Two bottles of wine later and I have not died yet.
Synopsis for the…. Night/morning: if not dead, wake up and drink more.
Thank you,
That is all xoxoxo

Death, I don’t know. At this point I’m staring at the screen, feeling out of my body. Not connected. I want drugs, I want sex, I want passion. Actually maybe not passion, passion destroys death, brings you to life. You can see right through me.

Its been heating up nicely in Pennsylvania. Had some ugly (obvious self harm) scars on my arm since last November. 5 of them, they made me sick. I was so fucked up (drunk) when I did them it was hazey to remember. I used a steak knife because I didn’t have a razor. Really tore the skin apart. (Saw fatty tissue) the next day I was fucking pissed. I let a fucked up shell of the worst of me scar me. The first month was bad. They wouldn’t heal. I thought I was going to have to stich it up myself with fishing line because theirs no way in fucking hell I was going to get stiched from a doctor and embarrass myself & my family. Plus theirs no way my family would pay for something like that. (You made your bed, you sleep in it) After getting to the point where parts of flesh in the wound looked like decaying flesh (because it was) they eventually closed up… it was December then. I could easily wear long sleeve and hoodies around. Everywhere. During this time I knew I had to get rid of them. I read about Mederma, people said it worked. The bottle cost like 20 bucks but I just said whatever and took one from walmart. It made the skin softer and helped reduce the redness a little but not effective enough. I was using it as often as I could too. I noticed that while using it it peeled the …

I’m addicted to sex.

It’s sad really, I get excited in the beginning, but once it’s happening, the magic dies and it’s numbing. I don’t know why the excitement doesn’t last, but I can’t stop or want him to stop.

Just the feeling of him pushing into me, retreating, entering, leaving, I never want him to stop even though I’m not excited anymore. I guess it’s knowing that even though he leaves me, he’ll always come back on time. It’s maintaining that schedule, the rhythm that I long for.

Even when he’s satisfied, I never want him to stop. If I had it my way, I would want to be fucked 24/7. But toys don’t give me the same satisfaction as real humans. It’s the human connection that makes it much better. It satisfies my need for someone coming back to me. After being abandoned by everyone I knew my whole life, all I really want is someone who’d come back to me regularly.

I can’t remember: Ever having a role model, feeling love, having a crush on someone, Feeling trust, having dreams or goals,real motivation,Truely being exited about anything,Caring about anything deeply, not living in anger and depression,Being patriotic,A time I relaxed,            

I can remember: all the useless ”medicine I took, falling for lies, suicide attempt,how mental hospital make  things worse and feed my anger, Watching my problems progress, the eventual lack of caring about everything, how depression robbed me of the ability of enjoyment, how it can still get worse no matter what, the weeks worth of time I have spent researching suicide , bullies, trying to figure out everything about the world and after I did trying to forget it.

I am alive and I hate it. My life has no value to me. Every time I think my anxiety and depression are at their worst they get more unbearable. Going to work each day fills me with pure panic. Being there makes me so unhappy I practically non stop think of suicide. I hate living alone I hate the fact that I will probably never have a girlfriend(that’s not just negative thinking men with depression are extremely unlikely to be in relationships statistically). I am worse at dealing with girls than I was when I was younger. I haven’t had sex in a year. I’ve never had a steady girlfriend. I haven’t even been around a girl outside of work in a month and I scared her off. I have no friends at all and the closest family an hour away. I can’t stop popping pimples and picking scabs on my face. I know its a gross habit but my anxiety gets so bad I “have” to. I also can’t write lyrics for the life of me and since music is the closest thing I have to a genuine reason to live I have little reason to exist.

I no longer care about hurting my family by killing myself. I used to worry about how my mom would feel but looking back as a kid she pointlessly emasculated and belittled me. Anything I told her in private she would blurt out in anger regardless of who was around. I’m a sensitive dude but not …

So, my wife fucked another dude about 2 years ago and then left me for the guy I caught her with.  I then got fucked over by the feminist judge after the Mrs. pleaded the BS “emotional abandonment routine” in court even though we had what I thought was a great relationship and now I pay her about 90% of my paycheck.  On top of that she got the house, the kids, blah blah blah.  Her and her family then got her sister to come out and said I had slept with her when I had not and she was 15 at the time so then I got charged with statutory rape.  Having lost all of my money to the ex-Mrs, I had to use a state appointed attorney and even though the evidence was clearly in my favor, the lawyer wanted nothing to do with it and sort of sabotaged the case forcing me to settle and plead out.  The judge let me off with 270 hours community service, counseling, probation, and of course I have to notify the neighborhood I was a sex offender.  This led to me losing my job and after 2 months, I am left with $8 in the bank and can’t pay the chid support or alimony to keep the bitch happy.  I do not want to be a slave of the system or the witch.  I love my two kids, but they hate me after the stories my wife has told them and I haven’t seen them in …

I just keep on going, but I’m so very tired of it. My family loves me, my girlfriend loves me, none of them want me to give up and go. But it’s all I can do to just brush my teeth or eat something.

I lost my job a month ago. It was my first real job out of college. It was full-time, paid very well. I was so happy. Elated. I wanted to do my best, and my boss wanted us to be best friends (she said as much). I should have known better. Your boss is not your friend. I confided in her, relied upon our “relationship” too heavily. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late.

Mind you, I always showed up on time. I never slacked off on the job. I did my best and chatted with her. It’s just that, I had never done this kind of work before, so I needed training. She trained me a little bit, but not enough. I just assumed that I could pick up the rest as I went, and if I stumbled, “it was cool,” since my boss wanted to be best friends.

During my last week, I had to take calls from people who were going to be interviewing for my job. They were all young ladies, just like me, college grads trying to get their foot in the door. I felt bad for them, hopeful for them, and jealous of them at the same time. What did these ladies have …