I have nothing to live for.

  October 17th, 2011 by U.W.P.O.S.

First off, I suppose I should say hello or something, so, hello. Second, I know this is a lot to read, so I apologize in advance and I don’t blame you if you skip over any of it.

A while ago (not sure how many years, I was in middle school), I was diagnosed with aspergers. At first I didn’t question it, as it provided a good reason (and a convenient excuse) as to why I was so socially retarded, not to mention I fit many of the other symptoms, such as repetitive behavior, weird interests / obsessions, clumsiness, social anxiety, etc. Some time later, something started bothering me. All of the other people I know with aspergers are ridiculously smart. The same cannot be said about me. I have trouble with the most basic concepts, I’m a horrendously slow learner, I have to be told something multiple times before I can barely begin to grasp it’s meaning, and if it weren’t for me taking summer courses every year, I most likely wouldn’t have graduated from high school yet. To put that more succinctly, I’m dumb. On top of that, I suffer from bipolar disorder (apparently depression runs in my family. Thanks, mom) and OCD. I feel like a complete wreck just about all of the time, but I feel as if I can’t really complain to / share my thoughts with anyone, seeing as 1) I have absolutely no friends whatsoever (not joking or exaggerating here), 2) I’m pretty sure none of the people I know care to hear some mentally and emotionally unstable self-absorbed jerk ramble on about his problems, and 3) I always feel like a whiny, annoying prick whenever I start fixating on everything that’s wrong with me, and I’m certain that talking about them with anyone I know would just exacerbate this feeling. So, not only am I a stupid aspie, I’m an unstable, whiny, self-pitying asshole loner.

As of late, not a day has passed without me having some kind of suicidal thought(s) / daydreams. At this point, I’ve become twisted and self-loathing enough to enjoy them, to see them as a welcome distraction from the pain and monotomy of everyday life. They’re all different, of varying length and violence. Sometimes they’re dark and realistic, and sometimes they’re light-hearted, like cartoon violence, only, well, more violent. I’ve fantasized about offing myself, being murdered and just dying due to chance or clumsiness (I’m surprised this hasn’t actually become the case yet). I always find new ways of rationalizing these thoughts, as well as my hypothetical decisions to actually go through with it. “No one will miss me. Most of my family hates me anyway, and no one else seems to realize I exist.” “I could just leave a note requesting to have my body thrown in a dump or a river somewhere, then no one would have to pay for a funeral or cremation.” “Someone so mentally unhinged doesn’t deserve to exist. They’re prone to snapping and doing something drastic and criminal. I’d be doing the world a favor.” The only thing that keeps me from actually committing suicide is my own cowardice. When I say this, I don’t mean to imply that I don’t see suicide as cowardly. It’d be perfect for a selfish, annoying coward such as myself. Yet, paradoxically enough, I’m too much of a coward to actually go through with it (my apologies for the overuse of the word “coward”, I’m a dumbass with a limited vocabulary). For a while now, I’ve contemplated getting completely smashed and just ending it all.

I have no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I’m not a particularly nice or empathetic person, considering it seems almost impossible for me to actually connect to anyone other than myself. I’m not witty or intelligent in any way, I’m not charming charismatic or even remotely attractive (fat, bad skin, bad teeth, etc.), and I have absolutely no skills or talents to speak of. I’m a lazy, unproductive douchebag who contributes nothing to society. I doubt that there’s anyway I’ll somehow become less pathetic and useless, and I honestly cannot see any possible reason why I should be allowed to continue living.

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