September 23rd, 2008 by meaningless

As I read through some of the other posts here, I’m noticing a common thread. We all want the pain to stop. We all want it to stop now. We all want end the pain by ending our lives. We all want our lives to end without hurting those around us. We all want those around us to live better lives than we are now. Or, maybe that’s just how I’m feeling now, and I’m reading it into everyone else’s words.

I just ended the first quarter century of my life and I don’t want to live to see another quarter century be as depressing. I can’t. It just hurts too much. And, in avoiding the pain, I’ve been avoiding myself. My life has spiraled into nothingness. Suddenly, a dark pit of death looks awfully warm and inviting. An end to chatter in my mind that won’t just let me be happy. I can no longer just enjoy life.

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I have a sad story just like everyone else. I grew up obese and socially awkward. I was never comfortable with myself and felt that I didn’t deserve to be in the body I had. I was always scared away from ever trying or just being me. My life was ruled by fear of being ridiculed by all the immature little children that formed the people I respected. I relied on these immature children for my own self worth. I never had any to being with, and I still don’t.

My parents never loved each other. They would fight constantly as I was growing up. They haven’t kissed or shared a bed for decades. It’s become clear that my mother wishes her life had turned out differently. She wishes that she had never gotten married. They’ve only still stayed in their current state because of me and my brother. My mother wishes she could talk to me. She wants to share a deeper relationship with me and my brother, but just doesn’t know how. She spends all of her time drowning her mind in television and seeking the approval of her parents.

I’ve never been able to talk to my mother. I knew I had feelings that I shouldn’t have had, and I didn’t know how to contain them. I tried to bottle them up and keep a brave face to the world, while my insecurity was eating me up inside. My father is incapable of holding a conversation longer than two sentences. He smiles, but you never really what, if anything, is going on with him. I would go to school. I wouldn’t talk to anyone. I would come home and watch tv, play videogames and eat. I was obese and only gained more weight. By my mother’s own account, I cried a lot. It became a nightly practice. I nearly had ulcers a few years later. I was spiraling out of control. I had a few friends that kept me sane. I also had the dream that I would get revenge on everyone that looked down on me when I was richer and smarter than they were. When I turned 25.

I’m not the man I’m supposed to be. I know I’m better than this. I just can’t seem to get myself past it. If I have learned nothing else in the last year, it is that I am more deeply screwed up than I could have ever possibly imagined.

A year and a half ago, my life changed. I graduated school and joined some of my classmates in starting a tech company. I had been excited about doing this for quite some time and thought that I had the opportunity of a lifetime. Just as we were getting started, I lost myself. I lost myself to a girl. She came into my world and flipped me upside. She drew out every ounce of self respect I had built up over the five years I had been at school. She turned me back into that insecure little child begging for her approval. I couldn’t focus on anything else. All I could do was think about her, and about being with her. Needless to say, my life in business faltered. I lost all desire to do what once meant the world to me. I left the business in a cloak of shame.

I moved in with her as quickly as I could. I promptly continued to do…. well…… nothing. I no longer had any reason to do anything. My deep insecurity had been filled by this perfect female giving me all the approval I would ever need. But, it wasn’t always easy. I couldn’t emotionally deal with her past. I was jealous and angry. However, my blindness to reality carried me through. We travelled the world, escaping reality further. We got engaged. We got married at a civil ceremony.

Two weeks later, while staying at her mother’s house with her step father, she called. She said it was over. I couldn’t believe it. I still believed that I could win her back. I had to. I needed to do anything I could to get her back. She was me. I grovelled, as any selfless loser would.

I immediately fell into depression. I lost the job I had just gotten not two months prior. Emotionally, I was out of control and it became quite obvious to my employer.

She came to visit a week later. We talked. I need to find out why. She gave me all these reasons, which all seemed so inconsequential. I turns out that soon after she had decided that we couldn’t be together, she slept with someone she met at a coffee shop not hours after she met him. After finding out she had eight partners and two abortions before her sixteenth birthday and twice cheated on her last serious partner, I should have seen this coming, but the thought just totally ripped me apart nonetheless. She tried her best to justify herself to me, but I don’t think she’ll ever really justify it to herself. The best she had was that she was not attracted to me, and never was. Not before kissing me and explaining that she can’t control herself.

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It has been two months since that happened. I’m still dealing with it. I need help. I can’t do anything. I used to be very active. Now, I can’t bring myself to do anything.
I’ve become the heaping mush of pathetic human flesh that I have feared to become for so many years. Even worse, I’m back living with my parents who make this kind of life acceptable. I can’t stand it.

All I see in life is meaninglessness. Nothing I have done has ever truly meant anything. I have had no effect, and made no difference. I don’t mean anything (except approval) to my parents. I didn’t mean anything to my ex, just a year detour from her plan to settle down and have a family. My birthday was two weeks ago. I got one brief “I can’t make it” phone call. Clearly, I don’t mean anything to the friends I thought I had.

It’s just meaningless. Life is meaningless. You’re born and you die. Even the richest or most inflential people in the world are just blips on the timeline of history. It is all for nothing. There is no end. Just pain. Just emptiness.

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