A goodbye to myself

What is my purpose in living? I ask myself this just about every day now. I have no ability to do anything regardless of my efforts. I genuinely believe that I am cursed. Everything that I love to do always finds a way to rid itself from my life.
For as long as I could remember my strongest passion was for martial arts. I saw jackie chan and other martial art films and it just clicked with me so perfectly. I started taking tae kwon do classes when I was in 6th grade and I was happier than I can even imagine, everything about the grind of training and becoming stronger felt better to me than anything. Of course, as my cursed life would have it, My freshman year in highschool, I tore my right groin, refused to let it heal as I thought I was invincible. I would twist my ankle and tear muscles all the time by training to hard and I had always just turned on the fire and forget that it ever happened and keep training. However this time the pain of throwing a single kick with my right leg shocked me to the point where I would fall over. I decided to rest for 2 weeks and after that started going to classes again. That was a poor choice. Although I had felt healed, I certainly was not. I threw a few kicks and then my groin re-tore. I left class and have to this point never returned. I still have a knot of deformed muscle strans in my right groin, preventing me from even lifting my leg above my hip.
I loved training so although I couldn’t kick anymore I started weight lifting. I really liked weight lifting, it was very different than training in tae kwon do. When I trained my kicks and such I felt as if I was heading towards a form of enlightenment. I was in perfect harmony with my body and soul and I trained. However, when I weight lifting I couldn’t feel my soul at all. I just went full monster mode. It wasn’t a bad feeling, the only problem with it was that I lifted with the football team for pre season conditioning and sometimes I would zone out while training and 3 or 4 hours would pass and I wouldn’t notice that I had made the coach stay 2 whole hours after practice. Oops. I never had a love for weight lifting, it was more of a way to continue training even though I couldn’t fight anymore.
Durring my sophmore year I became a lot more involved in music. I had been in band since 6th grade and joined the marching band my sophmore year. I still weight lifted until about half way through my junior year, but I had started practicing a lot more music. I played tuba, euphonium, and trumpet at the time. Practicing music sort of gave me a feeling similar to how I felt when I was training in martial arts. I started taking my instruments home from school and practicing a lot. I could only take the euphonium home on weekends so I would play it sometimes 10-12 hours a day over the weekend. Eventually I got more and more interested in commiting my life to music, and god damn was I glad I did. I quit weight lifting and exercising in general because too much cardio affected my breathing and if I lifted too much then my arms would be shakey when holding an instrument.
As a sophmore and junior I had practiced a lot but that was simply because I enjoyed it. I would practice for many hours a day and was in 5 school bands. Near the end of my junior year I had placed higher in my district’s honor band than the trumpet player that was the school’s lead player. He got 7th and I got 4th. My peers also started to treat me with a little more respect too. I was pretty bad at trumpet in middle school. One of the worst musicians at the school. My peers would make fun of me and look down at me and becoming so good and having “You should just quit” turn into “You’re really good” really made me start thinking of how I should spend the rest of my life trying to become the greatest musician that I could ever dream of being.
I had gotten my wisdom teeth out 2 weeks before band camp started for my senior year of marching band. It was really shity. My gums had bursted open at least 20 times during band camp, but I toughed it out. My passion for music burnt so hot, nothing could stand in it’s way. I gave up everything for music. I started eating a strict diet to improve, I quit staying up late and got enough sleep, I dropped out of all of my high level classes to free up my schedule to fit bands. I even dicked on my social life for music. Always coming home early or simply not hanging out with anyone just to go home and practice. I improved like crazy. I was in every band my school had, I even joined choir. I would go behind the blecahers during football games so I could practice more. Even while balancing school and friends I managed to get 12 hours of practice in nearly every day.
In the trumpet section for marching band there was this really cute girl. In all honestly I was never really into relationships at this age. I had seen all my friends break up with their high school sweethearts and just decieded that I wouldn’t start dating until I was already 30 and succsesful. However, I really really really really really liked this girl and I had heard from her close friend that I was also friends with, that she was into me. We started texting and talking more durring school and I eventually asked her out. She said yes and I nearly immediatly fell in love with her. However it was a little awkward when we went on dates. I was always so hyper concentrated on music that I had never gotten my license, so my mom drove us lol.After only a week or so of being together she became the center of my universe. My 12 hours of practice dwindled down to only a few minutes, not counting the playing I did in school. I started neglecting my sleep and diet, all I thought about was her, and I was ok with that. I mean plently of people throw their lives away for love, right?
It goes without saying, I was a stupid young highschooler and eventually we broke up, rather, she broke up with me. I felt fucking horriable. I had never really felt hurt before. I was really emotionally strong, to be honest, I had never even felt sad before. I used to tak to my friends about how I thought I was an alien just because I didn’t feel sadness. This was right around december. I had spent 100% of the time that I wasn’t with her, with my close friend, Denny. He is the sole reason why I am alive today. I had a conversation with my ex at school and she was really pissed at me, and on top of that I had realized that I was pretty bad at the trumpet now, so I felt horrid. I got on the bus to get home and started crying, needless to say the crying ***** on the bus got made fun of hard. Every kid was talking shit and throwing tissues at me and one even told me to kill myself. When I got home I had planned on taking my life. I texted Denny and within 5 minutes, he came over and healed me.It was a perfect friendship really, I never felt as if I was a burden to him at all.
It was December at this point. He had stopped texting me suddenly. I had no idea why. It hurt. The last thing I ever said to him was “Am I a good friend?” and he said yes. I was in some real pain. My ex blocked me, my best friend blocked me, and a lot of my friends where spending time with their family or went on a vacation. I was really alone. I didn’t talk to anyone over the course of winter break and had completely lost myself for a short while. I went days at a time without touching my trumpet once and ate nothing but junk food, planning on suicide every night. After Christmas happened I was able to talk it out with my best friend, Bri. She invited me to come over to her house for new years and I hung out with her and her family.
Late at night after her cousin and parents went to bed, I headed into the basement where they had a spare bed. I turned the lights of prepared to go to sleep. I had a lot of problems sleeping after the breakup. I would constantly think of my ex and I would just get really sad and start to self harm. However this time, I was restless, and in pain and since I was at a friend’s house, I had no way to self harm or do anything else. I decieded to just lay there with my heart burning while silently cried by myself. After a half an hour of so Bri came down to the basement with weed. I knew she and her boyfriend smoked, but I was always super adamant against drugs. I wouldn’t even let them smoke in a different room then come back when we would all hang out, yes, I was that guy. I was so weak and hurt that I couldn’t take it. I took her up on the offer and smoked out an entire pipe. I never really felt high or anything from smoking but with her company and the edge taken off I felt really nice and I was able to fall asleep after eating a bag of doritos.
That had me feeling nice for a day or so, but then I fell right back into that hole of despair. I hit up my friend that smoked and got 2g from him and proceeded to smoke it all in about an hour while eating mac n cheese in a bath. This time however I didn’t feel anything. Weed only made appriciate Bri’s company to the point where I didn’t feel sad but when I was all alone it didn’t seem to affect me at all. I continued to feel shitty even after school started back up. I was hoping Denny’s phone or something had broken so we could talk once school started up again. However he wasn’t there. Turns out he stole and destroyed a lot of his ex’s stuff and was expelled. He only told me and a few other people and someone told on him and I guess he blamed me. That was pretty shitty, honestly. I still miss him though.
School got me playing trumpet again. My relationship with bri got a lot stronger too, we were hanging out everyday after school and I would spend the night on weekends occasionally. I started sleeping and eating better, and I never smoked again. I opened up and started being friends with everyone in band. Me and my ex also patched things up and stayed friends. This truly was a golden period of my life. I started practicing 12 hours a day again, started talking with professionals, buying books, and learning a lot. I participated in a solo performence competition and took a really challenging A piece and fucking killed it. This year I had gotten 1rst chair in honors band, and it was super duper stacked! The 2nd chair was so good! Those 2 days of honors band my senior year are by far my favorite days of life. I was super happy, I had more close friends than ever,I loved them all so much, my peers in band looked up to me and respected me. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to have even a day of that time back.
I graduated from highscool and that was that. I thought I was set. I had planned on taking a year to hone my skills before going to college. I was pretty damn set to become the musician and loving person of my dreams. That, of course, was before my curse came creeping back.I suppose my fire of passion was just too hot for the curse to come close to me durring my golden period. However it found it’s way to fuck me once again. I came to have injuiry after injuiry over and over again. I busted my lip, let it heal, started playing again and would bust my lip again, get cut on the lip, have a pimple on the lip, have my wisdom teeth sockets reopen, tear a tendon in my jaw. I had nearly given up, dealing with this cycle sucked. I was at a professional level, all my peers seemed to love me playing, anytime I played a note it would always demand the attention of those around me and cause people to stare at me. This cycle is hell, I constanly live in a depressed state while injuired and unable to play and then work super hard after I heal until I get to a point where I am decently happy with my playing and my life and then it happens. Another injuiry happens. Sometimes they happen in my sleep, I have no clue as to why this is happening. I spent my whole life without ever getting hurt in the chops and now i’m just getting fucked daily.
It’s all getting much worse. Even my hobies are effected by the curse. I liked gaming so I got carpel tunnel and fucked hands so now I can’t even enjoy my favorite games to cover this painful cycle of hell. The injuries kept getting a lot worse, and now as I type this it has reached what I assume is the final cycle.This isn’t like the rest, the others have been things like spider bits on the lips, busted lips, cuts, etc. However this time it is internal, there are no external signs of an injury but there is a severe pain in my upper lip. I can barely even hold an embochure for a few seconds without succumbing to the pain. I can no longer play and this isn’t the kind of thing that heals without surgery. Throughout these last 2 years that I have stayed in the house, suffering by my lonesome my depression has reached an unfathomable level. Without trumpet playing I cannot continue living this life. All my friends have forgotten me or moved on in life. I haven’t left my house in over a year and my mom only supports me because she knows how I feel.
As I stated in the begining, what is my purpose in living? I have none. Everything I ever held dear to me is gone. I haven’t even had a conversation with anyone besides my mom in months. My life has become a mess. My body incapable of even doing anything I would ever want to do. My curse would also destroy anything new I could pick up, so I only have one option left. I’ll end this suffering. I’ll give it a week or so, if some miracle doesn’t heal my lips, then I’ll do what must be done. Thanks for reading this, it felt good to write.