Today I sat in my room in silence staring at the floor realizing I have nothing , no one. I realized i don’t have anyone there for me when i need them, that my parents don’t realize how depressed i am, that no one asks how i am, no one checks on my mental health, that in the end everyone has their own person, my mom has my dad, aaron has eric, you have your ducklings and dad, danielle has her boyfriend and sister, everyone has someone but me, because in the end im the second chose like always. Yesterday i cried because i finally had a long look at what a mess I’ve become. Im not the me i was before i forget a lot of things now, i can go days without remembering to eat correctly, i don’t even read or draw anymore the two things i loved to do, i get scared when my parents yell, I’ve even started thinking about how things would be if i just disappeared and never came back. I realized that im nothing..
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Right there with you.. It’s the worst fucking feeling.
Hey. I wish my words will help you see that you are NOT nothing. This coming from someone (me), that doesn’t have a someone either. I used to draw then I stopped some time during losing myself. Then i began to love reading. Then another heartbreak, lost more of who I used to be and grew to love and now I dont read for fun anymore. I see myself as a nothing, born to grow up and literallly feel like a waste of a human. I hope things turn around for you.. Or something like that
Welcome to OUR world, Cheerios! There’s more of us out here than you might at first realize.
My name’s Jack and I’ve personally been struggling like this for a very long time. A half of a century to be exact. So I have a bit of experience in this area. There are others my age (and older) on this site as well, so they might be able to help you too.
Yeah, I know what it’s like to sit alone in a silent room staring at the floor… or the ceiling… or the shotgun in the corner! I know the pain of loneliness. My marriage went to hell 15 years ago. I lost my girlfriend AND my dog in 2014. My literary career tanked in 2009. I haven’t painted anything since 2007. And I don’t even get much enjoyment from playing my guitar anymore.
Unlike you, however, I don’t want anyone to ask about me or check on my mental health. I’ve kept my pain a secret for 5 decades! There are times, especially when I think I can’t function in society any longer, that I contemplate getting a doctor, and perhaps trying to get on disability income so I won’t have to get up, go to work, and face the day. But I always end up scratching that idea. I don’t want anyone in the real world to know what I’m going through. Why? Because the “authorities” label people with mental illness! For example, it’s illegal for a person with a mental disability to own a firearm. And if they take my gun away, then they’ve taken away my only viable exit plan. So I keep my pain a secret.
I know this doesn’t help you. I’m sorry I don’t have any words of encouragement. The only thing I can say is this: That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That one sentence, uttered by Nietzsche many years ago, has helped me more than any prayer, more than any drug, more than any meditation technique. Try to be as strong as you can. I’ve made it 50 years, for whatever that’s worth. You can too, if you so desire. Of course, I don’t feel as strong now as I did when I was younger. I am really exhausted from the struggle. It’s difficult when you can’t see any light at the end of the tunnel.