The Black Hole

This is my first post on this site, which I found after typing “I want to disappear.” I read the post titled the same and some of the comments on post and realized that maybe my own feelings and story could help someone like her story helped me.

So, I go through cycles in my depression. I go months at a time feeling like my life is worth something and that I have things to live for. These are happy times and when I feel like I do now I try to remember those times, however, this is never enough. Recently I have thought about why I’m still alive. I tell myself that it’s because of my friends and family. That I love them and I wouldn’t want them to go through more pain because of me. This world is hard enough without my selfish acts and thoughts making it harder on them. I guess this is why I don’t tell my family how I really feel, because I don’t want them to worry about me. I don’t really think that I will ever take my own life, even though I have thought about it more often then not and even tried twice when I was younger, 12 and 14 (am I in denial?). It’s not like I don’t want to die. I think that living til we’re 90 is a cruel joke from higher powers. It’s been hard enough for me not to take my own life in, what seems like a long 27 years.

For as long as I remember I have had this emptiness and it only gets worse around the end of the year. I suffer from huge migraines and get really depressed during this time of the year. I have tried suicide twice when I was younger. I haven’t tried it since, but I think about it constantly. Sometimes I think that if I could just make my self cry that it might help, however no tears ever come out. Writing has helped with getting my feelings out and I’ve recognized how some scenes in the past have had an affect on why I feel the way I do today. This does not really change those feelings, just helps me recognize why I have those feelings. This is not to say that I blame my past for the way I feel, if anything I feel this way because I don’t know any other way to think.

I am quite good at putting on an act. That is I am good at making people think I am happy and sane. Only a few of my very close friends really know the truth and no one in my family. Even those close friends, however, don’t know how deep my depression really goes. They don’t know that the days I can’t sleep is because my mind is racing or I’m happy and I don’t want that feeling to go away, or that the days when I do sleep is because I’m sad or angry and it’s the only way I know how to deal with this pain without causing harm to my self. I hate my self and I don’t want to go on. I just want to die yet I’m to0 scared to take my own life. I hope to die young, I didn’t expect to live this long and now I don’t know what to do with my life. I carry on because of my friends and family, but I fear that sooner or later this is not going to be enough. All I want is for this emptiness and pain, for lack of a better word, will just go away. I have began to smoke weed constantly because it’s the only thing that numbs the pain for a few hours, but then it just comes back.