It can always be worse, I mean I could not have legs or something. But the idea of outward problems that can easily be identified seems so much Better than what I suffer with. It’s those little inward things, that eat you out slowly, dying on the inside, dominated by things that shouldn’t own me. I’ve attempted suicide, I’ve drank too much took too many pills. I’ve hurt myself just to feel something, and speaking from experience it doesn’t work. Whatever’s on the other side has to be better than what’s going on for me over here. I can honestly say that I don’t have a single friend in the whole wide world anymore. Not one. And when someone wants to hang out is only when I have the vodka or whatever. The voice in my head mock me, the people I associate myself with at work mock me. I don’t know why I even leave my house anymore. My last(and only) girlfriend was a complete *****(sorry ladies) Â one of the worst parts is how the words flow inside my head, when I write people said it was beautiful, but I can’t speak a single word of it. There’s introverted then there’s whatever I am. I guess this rant is for closure. I need to feel something before I take that leap. But i never will never get closure.
share your suicide story
Report Post
Please log in to report posts
5 comments
i know how you feel. other people have physical, visible issues, but no one sees the people hurting on the inside. i think our lives our just as hard as the physically impaired if not harder because there are ways to cope with physical injuries. the mind is more complicated and medications dont always work.
there is no other side, it’s nothingness. but it is better than this world. it sounds like you’re surrounding yourself with the wrong people. 7 billion people can’t all hate you. maybe you should move (if you can) and try to find new people to be around. take matters into your own hands to find what you’re looking for.
i wish you the best.
I think other writers were crap at expressing themselves when talking – and not social – but maybe that allows you to write and describe in a way that those people on the inside of the social world could never do. Because you could observe and see things in a unique way.
If you write it it’s still who you are. Talk is cheap. I believe your writing is beautiful. It’s a gift. Like a painter who captures a moment.
I can relate to not having friends. With me I think it’s my fault. I make friends but I kind of panic at some point and pull away. Wish I hadn’t done that.
I hope you find your closure. Maybe it will come when you’re not expecting it. I was just thinking something similar tonight. I also want to feel something – that connects things, that makes me feel – something real. I believe it is there for you – maybe don’t try so hard to find it and it will come. I wish it for you.
I agree. When I saw that picture of that guy with his legs blown off at the Boston bombing I was thinking to myself I’d rather be him then have this fucked up brain.
ps, and I agree with im-just-a-kid. Not all girls are shallow bitches and the deep ones may be quieter too, so you may have to look harder to find one, but they are there. And who knows when you might meet one, if you leave you’ll never know. and i mean that sincerely, not just bs.
@ tupacorbiggie – i think that every time i hear any story of who was killed or horribly wounded or just died by an accident. i think that should have been me. they wanted to live and i dont so take me instead.