Suicidal identity

After reading some of the posts and comments here, I realize that this is probably the darkest, most depressing online community I’ve ever encountered. For the most part, the same small group of people post and comment pretty much every day, even several times. It got me thinking – this suicide thing becomes an identity after a while.

It’s like any other habit you identify yourself with. “Yeah, she’s that girl who only wears blue or green”. “You know, that guy? The one who always quotes Star Wars?” Excuse the gender stereotypes, but I can’t think of better examples. After several nights of thinking about giving the finger to your parents for getting hot and heavy that one night, you become “the girl who only wears exit bags or nooses”, or “that guy who always quotes his own obituary”.

It’s all a fucking force of habit, and I’m disgusted by the fact that I too am one of these people.

I realized that I don’t want to feel good. I don’t even consider that an opportunity. I just want it to end, because that’s the only thing that makes sense. Although I have a shitload of close friends, fairly good looks, damn good health, and the wits of a Mensa-member, I still consider myself a failure. It doesn’t make sense at all, but I can’t convince myself of the opposite. Of course, this might be because I don’t feel any sense of accomplishment when completing a task, even if it’s hard.

I feel nothing. No joy, no real pain, no sadness, no anger. The only thing that resembles a feeling, is the constant urge to mute my thoughts, usually by watching TV or playing a game. Then, when the show or game is over, I need to think about eating, sleeping, and all that other stuff to keep myself alive. But I don’t really want to do that. It gives me nothing. The only real thing I want to accomplish, is my own death.

Or so I keep telling myself. Because that’s what I identify myself with. It is truly disgusting.

And, ironically, it makes me want to kill myself even more.