Hello everyone, firstly let me say I just happened to drift onto this site in a rather accidental manner. And, upon reading some of your stories, I must say for not believing in yourselves, you are a extremely courageous and inspiring lot. I say this because you have shattered a costly visage that I, unwillingly, feel it is constantly my duty to maintain. Forgive me for being verbose, it is just I rarely speak about matters so personal in nature. Also, I shall try not to give you my life story but I feel like you deserve to know a bit more about the man wasting so much of your time. I was sheltered very much at early age, or atleast it always seemed like that to me, in hindsight, I sometimes question if I was just to idiotic to understand what was going on around me. Regardless, I performed poorly and was bullied terribly, even after switching schools however in my classmates defence, I was a bit strange. This trend held until I started high school, not that I was any less strange, but I loved the idea that I had another chance to start anew. I did my best to remain on the outskirts of classroom dealings, only peeking my head in to mock the world as teenage angst provokes us all to do at one time or another, I suppose. During this whole experience two things were growing in me and although I felt them escalate, I knew I was too young to understand the world enough to know if it was acceptable to feel this way or not. Those two things were a seperation from people and a disgust of the world. I found solace in substances and women, if only for the moment. Name a substance, I’ve tried it at least once probably. I had “true” feelings for only one woman at the time and we dated for 2 years. When we met she was pregnant and in a failing relationship. For better or worse, I convinced her that her idea to get an abortion, dump her boyfriend, and come to me were in her best interest. She did. For two years I saw her as the most beautiful woman that had ever walked the face of this Earth, she was an innocent and pained maiden that shared my unhappiness. (messiah complex, much?) She was bi-polar and suffered major depression, which is a hell of a combination when you factor in the drugs we were on, her family hating me, and of course the trials of high school. She verbally abused me, cheated on me, and ultimately left me for one of my friends, but I don’t blame her, I didn’t and still don’t understand what a relationship truly is. Besides, I’m not sure if we ever really “liked” eachother, we may have just “needed” eachother to convince ourselves not to throw this life away, that we, and this world, were worth something. It was nice to have someone hold you that truly just wanted to just have YOU in their arms, not because you were an easy lay, or too naive to realize you were being molested, or because it would make for an amusing joke about you later in public, but just because they wanted to feel the warmth of your heartbeat agaisnt their skin. (all of those things actually happened to me, just for clarifacation). Now those times are long gone it seems, like a foggy, drug induced nightmare. Even now I have memories that resurface that I seem to have hid away from myself. I went to college (surprise for you and me both) and changed signifacantly. I feel as though the essence of my being is as permuteable as the surroundings I am encarcerated by. I reinvented my character and became an honors student, active on campus and in the community. Practically everyone on my small campus green knows my name, but only one or two know even a glimpse of the darkness inside the shell. I cheat to get by so I can keep scholarships and must maintain a draconic schedule; I am machine, a mindless workaholic. I now stand on the repugnant heap of my efforts and stare into the event horizon which is my graduation and although I have been accepted into my new school and am in line for scholarships, that, is if I can please my superiors by delivering a speech well that I have yet to have time to write for the class speaker committee on tuesday, I am still not satisfied. I am sorry that took longer than expected, I hope some of you are kind enough to have made it to this point in my story. The truth is, I feel like I have forgotten how to live. I still don’t understand what a relationship is, regardless of how close or distant it is. I trust no one although many trust me, I hope their trust is not misplaced. Even towards my family, who have always tried their best to support me, albeit sometimes misguided in their attempts, I feel little more than base respect. I am not yet 20, my parents are 65-70. Father almost died my senior year of high school, my mother had carbon monoxide poisening as child and suffers from severe hearing and vision disabilities yet still manages to work full-time as a nurse, and yet still I cannot, with true earnesty say that I love them. Sure I lie to them so they, like everyone else can go on as happily as I wish I could be, never thinking anything is amiss. I have pictured many times my parents death, and yet the largest feeling I have is fear for myself,”how will I get by now?” I think I slipped into workaholism as a form of escapism, escape from the suicidal thoughts, leaving those friends who were no good to me behind. It was an easy mirage to set before me, the promise of a brighter future, but now I find no joy in my accomplishments. I have walked so many roads in search of something that brings me joy, of anything, just something to keep my wanting to get up in the morning, to dream about at night. I have tried, although painfully rending as it is, to reach out to others and form connections. It never is satisfying, I feel nothing towards them. I know this sounds petty, I know I have been complaining for what probably seems like an eternity for you, I know it sounds like I am selfish and egotistical and foolish, and I agree with you. I just need to tell someone, I want to be more than this HollowMan, I want to escape the grey cage of my desolace and feel true happiness. I just don’t think it exists for me anymore. I have always contemplated suicide, I have prayed night after night (when I still believed it made a difference) that a higher power let me die while I sleep. I have started preparations for suicide but never finished contemplating it. I have always tried to delay what feels like the inevitable, because as with most things, once I reach that conclusion, I am not turning back. I just don’t know how much longer I can, or want to for that matter, carry on like this. Thank you for listening to me and my story, I’m sorry to take up so much of your time, your eyes must be as sore as my thumbs as I key this account away into my phone. I just needed to get this off my chest, it feels like its been forever, and maybe it has, since I confided in someone and to just accept how dysfunctional and unhappy I really am.
P.S.
On top of all that, I think I might have herpes but I’m extremely afraid of getting tested and cannot find a free clinic open around me that complies with my schedule, or maybe that is just another excuse for myself…