On one of the spectrum, I am a depressive martyr, thinking thoughts of suicide 60% of the time. Hoping that a small fragment of happiness will bless my broken life. I still have hope that maybe one day it will change. I have found out that if you sit and wait for good things to happen, it usually never does, but I have also discovered when I try to make good things happen to me, it blows up in my face and I’m worse off than before. I don’t know why I came back here, did I thought it was going to make me feel any better? It is, it’s good to know that someone knows our stories. That somewhere, someone does in fact care. Even if you are completely hated, everyone mocks you and people look at you like a disappointment no matter what you do, some people do in fact care.
One year ago, exactly. I was desperately alone, more so than now. Only reading books saturated my mind. I had zero friends, I had no life, no money, no job, nothing. I was a waste of human breath. I now have all of that, but the sorrow never went away. Money does nothing for you if your alone. I don’t have much but it’s sufficient at least. I’m not poor anymore. So what gives me a right to complain? I don’t know.
I only want simple things, things that most people take for granted. I don’t want to rich, I don’t want to be what society calls successful. You know, simple things like peace of mind, positive mindset, love, joy, fulfillment. It’s like chasing a dragon I can never catch (I don’t do drugs by the way). Maybe it’s the depression that makes it impossible for me to attain. It’s a difficult road life has thrown upon us all. How the hell can we navigate it without getting lost?