After 26 years of loneliness and heart-break. I think the time has come, for me to finally end my life. I have been trying to fight it. Trying to hold everything together, all by myself. In spite of the attempts of others to help me, it never does, because at the end of the day, I am truly alone. They constantly try to convince me I am not alone, or will not be alone forever, but they do it from a position where they aren’t with me, so I am still left alone. No one will ever take a chance on me. Not truly. I have battled depression all of my life, but this last two years have been hell, and it’s time for me to be done with all of this.
I thought I was on the right path, I was exercising, and got on medication, and was trying to clean up my life, but it’s never going to be good enough for anyone. I have already had to try 800 times harder than anyone else to find it, and to have it, and share it with someone, but the fact will remain, there isn’t even 1 percent of love out there for me, much less 800 times as much. All the effort is wasted, and on top of that, I have come to be expected to do only for others. I work so hard for everyone else, and get so little back. I don’t believe it’s like currency, that I should get out everything I put in, but I need, and I do mean NEED, something emotionally that I don’t, and won’t ever have.
I just thought I found someone who could be good, but as always, I am not even worth the attempt. This is why I am going to take my life. I can’t keep fighting this anymore. As always, I find myself completely lacking someone that I can talk about it with in real time. I can always send an email to my friend, who I met on here, but other than that, I am, at the moment, completely alone with these thoughts, feelings, fears, distress, and panic. I wanted nothing more in this life than to have love, and start a family, and be with someone. Maybe even someone who wants to look after me, for once. It’s just not possible.
After this last rejection, I have realized, I used to write books, and do projects, and want to help the world, to even save the world, but I haven’t had that in a long time. I have no interest in it. I am so badly wounded, and the world has hurt me so much, how could I want to contribute to it?
I am sitting here in complete agony, messaging the person who just rejected me, wondering why I even have dating profiles. Why do I even try? Why do I get up every day? I have enough pills sitting next to me, to kill myself. It wouldn’t take much. I have a knife, too. Why don’t I do it? What does it matter? Oh yeah, it will hurt other people, but you know, I can’t keep taking care of others, and just being rejected. I have considered all the consequences, and the possible outcomes of not committing suicide, but the outcomes are worse than the consequences. My life is sacrificed either way, but I can forgo decades of pain, and chemical reliance.
These people keep saying I am so special, and they have never met anyone like me, and that I am going to be perfect someone. I have every quality the want on the inside, but even though I am not hideous, no one will appreciate my outer self. I want to say, if I keep trying, I can somehow not be rejected, but that is not the case. Everyone tries to convince me of that for which there is no evidence, the idea that I could find that person, and be with them my whole life. There is no proof. I don’t readily believe in things for which there is no proof. And why should I? Those people have been killing each other for centuries. I can’t have hope for something I have never seen. Oh sure, other people have found love, but not me. Is there love for me?
Let’s consider for a second, the possibilities involved in my finding love and happiness. And on top of it, I have this massive paranoia. This list of events that, if they were to transpire, would send me reeling with agony, in a way that has never occurred before. I would be in a state that would be more dangerous than anyone I know has ever seen. I will become the destroyer that I have been fighting for so long. Maybe that’s what the world deserves. Maybe I owe that to them.
I just don’t know how to exist as this monstrosity. I thought I could be loved, but I can’t. I think that ends this for now. I will add more as we get closer to my impending finality.
3 comments
I can relate to you a lot, and I’m a bit older than you. I do all right in most areas of life except that one, and that is the only area I have ever cared about. It doesn’t matter what I do, it just never happens for me. Most people I know seem to find someone new every year or two, while, my friends and family openly joke about how I have the worst luck of anyone they know.
I’ve pretty much given up. I wish I had an answer so I could help everyone else struggling with this. The only ray of hope I can give is one of my closest friends is 38 and has been in the first relationship of his life for almost a year. So, it can happen. Best of luck to you.
Embargo, I am sorry to hear that you have had the same misfortunes I have experienced. However, this unending pain that has been every day since I was in Elementary School, it has grown into a cancer that is now consuming my mind. I had plans last year to commit suicide, and they were thwarted on three different occasions. On top of the two attempts I made as a child. Nothing has changed. I did have a, well, I wouldn’t really call it a relationship, but it was a fling, and it ended poorly. I was pretty much used. I don’t really deserve better than that. I am still waiting for some real, lasting love to happen, but it isn’t going to. If anything, that fling was proof of that. I fight for it. I really go out of my way. I do more to love others, than anyone would ever even imagine doing for me. I am at the end of my rope, and there is a nicely tied noose waiting for me there. I will not be able to deal with this pain for 38 years. I have already waited longer than I should be expected to.
I notice some people don’t know what love is, or how important it can be. For me, and the beliefs I have acquired, nothing really matters in this life, except what we perceive as mattering. The things that make it worthwhile to ourselves, and I don’t have that. I lack that Joie de Vive. I can momentarily enjoy some small instant, but in the end it comes back to the wretched, heart-wrenching loneliness that devours my soul.
SCD, I am sorry, but I can’t see the “love” through all the loneliness. Waking up, alone, eating breakfast alone, sitting in my room alone, working on my projects alone, going to movies alone, going out to eat alone, hurting alone. No one searches for me, and protects me, and cares for me. They just tear me down. 7 billion people inhabit this Earth, but that is still a minute number, and yet, even if there were one person out there among them, the chances of finding one in 7 billion people, on a planet that has a land area of 148,940,000 km^2, are nill. There is no way to find said person. And that is assuming for an instant that they aren’t laying on their death bed, or just learning to walk. I keep finding people that want everything that I have to offer, but will never offer it back.
I have been going out of my way not to eat anymore, and I am trying to exercise every chance I can get. I am going out of my way even more every day, and it’s just never enough.
You’re worth the attempt. You are loveable.
I stood at the edge of a bridge once. Looking between my feet at the waves below. I thought that no one would ever love me. I was so very wrong.
I’m not 100% sure what made me turn back. I remember thinking about “god” or whatever. I thought “fuck it, let the universe do its own dirtywork” (I’m an athiest, BTW).
People love you. It may not seem like it. But they do. It’s just hard to see from where you are. From where I was. It’s hard to explain. But the world is better off with you in it. Stay with us. Please.