Like so many of the posts I read here, I simply don’t know what I hope to get out of wrighting this. Maybe it’s the knowing that unlike your faded and tear staind journal… Someone will see this. Some one might understand. Maybe it’s just satisfying the attention craving victim looking for emotional handouts… Who gives a shit
Unlike so many fellow souls spilling thier hearts out for the faceless masses to see I feel detached from the depression handbook. Aside from mild childhood depression and a exepionaly controling mother I’ve had it ok. Made the journey through highschool with honors and friends. Needed to shape up my life so I ditched the weed and joined the Forces. Set myself a goal I thought to high to reatch and settled in for the ride. Maried my highschool sweetheart. She stayed with me through Afghanistan so we bought a nice little house and now I have a 2 year old daughter. I achieved personal and professional success. Reached the goal I thought was impossible. Now I’ve gone as high and as hard as I’ve ever wanted to go.
And I will kill myself.
Perspective is a *****. You may think you want the success, the life, the wife, the family… But the reason I will put 180 grains of high velocity metal through my own skull this time is that it’s all relative.
I have always hated myself. I have piled success upon success to try and prove to myself I’m worth a damn. Not to anyone else, but to myself. I’ve always known I was doing this all for the wrong reasons. And after the dust has settled and here I stand, the adult I have tried so hard to be…. I can think of nothing but ending it all.
It hurts my brain to be happy. It takes so much hypocrisy and ignorance to love this world we live in. And first you must love yourself.
I have failed. I have lived more then anyone I’ve known. And the lesson I’ve learned is there is no meaning to life except the meaning you create. think of it as a computer game you have the console commands for…. No point. The happiness is found in experiencing the challenges. It is not an end state. And it’s that insurmountable fact that has convinced me that I will never be happy. I no longer wish to expieriance life. It holds no meaning for me.
Maybe I’ll whisper “send it” one last time tonight…
But then I hear my daughter say “Daddy, I miss you!” As I put her to bed and that thin thread of unconditional love holds me here another day. A bulet would be better. This existential death is so slow. I’m dragging the only ones I care about down with me.
It hurts so much to pretend. Please just make it stop.