I refuse this world

Although my name was a typo, it’s fitting.

This world is just too much. And it’s wrong. I don’t know how to prove that I’m correct, but I know it’s wrong. If I’m wrong, then the world is wrong for me. But I’m trapped in this prison.

Life was easier when I had simple thought processes. When I wasn’t being my true self. I had many friends, and acquaintances that liked me, quirks and all. I was naive in all the best ways. Which was why I lived happily. I suppose even then, I wasn’t interested in people as much as things. Learning what things were and how they worked. Gaining new skills. People were secondary to me. I still treated everyone with the kindness that was given to me in childhood. That’s how I was raised. I was never abused or anything like that. There was nothing that could cause me immense despair.

As I grew older, some things changed. A lot of the naivety remained, but my “advanced” maturity allowed me to really see the difference between myself and 95% of my peers over the years. Even still, I was hardly ever particularly shunned, but my disgust and disdain for those around me made me build walls to keep them away from my oh so perfect world. The world around me began to depress me. So much death. So much pain. So much war. On a smaller scale, people were just so stupid. I couldn’t understand the “why”. They had book smarts, maybe street smarts, but they couldn’t step outside these bubbles and boxes that were created for them. That view hasn’t changed much.

Somewhere along this ride, I got sick. Or rather, learned is been sick my whole life. The physical symptoms had begun to manifest in the middle of high school. Learning what I had all along, it’s no wonder things began to change in my head. My brain was literally under pressure for over a decade. The year prior, I had been contemplating my suicide. I had skipped the “should I?” And was at “how can I do this as painlessly as possible?”.

I moved beyond all of these things. I stayed alive, as to not inflict pain on the ones I cared for the most who I know cared for me. I survived the surgery. I gave myself new purpose. I was a new me. I can’t explain the how, but I emerged greater than ever once I had that issue taken care of. My thoughts were sharper than ever. My energy was phenomenal. I could do anything. I felt like I could do anything.

I learned that same year, there are consequences from actions, no matter how positive the intentions are. I didn’t fall back into deep depression, but it was certainly a part of me now. The beautiful world I just got introduced to, was gone once again. Events that occurred all that year, hurt me in ways I didn’t know we’re possible. I did a good thing, and I got closure on two things, but it left me hollow inside. And, also feeling like a fool. The past can’t be undone. And people rarely change.

Life proceeded. I graduated. I dated briefly. I did college for a year. I worked jobs I loved and hated. But it was all meaningless to me. There’s so much more to the world than what was before me. And those around me, excluding one best friend I met in HS, couldn’t see it.

Now, I’ve evolved in so many ways, and also came face to face with shortcomings I’ve learned I have, regardless of what caused them. I saved (at least) two lives last year. They didn’t want to live. I fought my hardest to keep them here. But I still can’t tell if it were selfishly.

I fell in love. It wasn’t planned. The person was so different. But they changed. Now they’re like everyone else. And despite the emotions that are still there clear as day on both sides, they chose someone else out of nowhere. Meaningful conversation ceased. Small talk and laughs are still there, but it feels like I’ve been taken advantage of. I’m not a toy. No one gets to use me then toss me aside and everything remains ok. I digress.

I saved myself a few times. But, I’m back here again. In despair. But it’s different now. I just don’t belong in this world. I don’t know what I am. An alien? An angel? An older soul? Perhaps I have the power to change the world? The possibilities are endless. But it’s also pointless speculating. I can’t even save myself anymore. Almost everyone can’t understand me. They don’t get my motives. They think they know me but they really don’t. Whether they do it consciously or not, they stab me in the back. My soul is just broken. My heart is broken. Whether I choose to believe in God or if I choose to believe in myself alone, it’s all the same. I preach so much positivity and the people in my life seem to appreciate it, but it’s all feeling like lies I tell to need to exist. I hate this world. Why do I have to give myself purpose to matter? What do any of us matter? We’re all doomed for the same fate, afterlife or not. We’ll expire. Our literal functions are to reproduce, and then die. Even if we try to refute, we still die. It cannot be stopped. We create these societal rules on how to conduct ourselves, but it’s divisive and frankly bullshit used to keep a level of control on people and not allow ourselves to be ourselves. There is merit and structure that is very much needed and some of these provide it, but it’s used as an end all solution and we’re surprisingly complex and unpredictable when it comes down to the nitty gritty. Our general actions can be easily predicted and managed. Ultimately, nothing I do or research has gotten me out of a nihilistic view on life. People hurt people. People hurt themselves. As powerful as knowledge is, it’ll never be enough. Experience is necessary, but that’ll also damage you when your mental construct is challenged. I could make a list of things forever and ever.

I just don’t want to wake up anymore.

I made my best friend live and now we both suffer in the exact same ways.

I saved the life of someone very close to me and we ended up bonding even more and fell in love. But I guess I was just a means to an end. I accept that I did more for her than myself, but even when I try to separate my life from hers, she just keeps invading and keeping her presence. I can see the ulterior motives of people a mile away. And she just wants to keep me as the backup/marriage plan for later, nothing more. She just follows her peers. But if she’s happy, who am I to ruin that right?

My mother learned about my 8 years of depression less than a week ago. She’s been trying to be understanding and I appreciate it, but the more we talk, the more I realize she will.never understand. My depression is my best friend. Hers is just a repeat criminl that keeps getting arrested.

I can’t leave because she needs me. She won’t go in without me. My best friend won’t go on without me. There’s quite a few people who need me around. The pain is just so unbearable now. I’m seeing sides to people I never thought would be turned towards me. And it’s all because they don’t understand me. I’ve told them they can’t, and all they’ve done is prove it more and more since I’ve said it.

Money is meaningless. Love isn’t enough. Death is absolute. Hope is for the lucky few.

I’ve tried therapy. I’ve tried religion. I’ve tried spirituality. I’ve tried plain old ‘do the things that bring you joy’. None of it is enough. None if it really matters. We’re specs of dirt on a floating rock within a greater space of the unknown. Our ends are the only certainty. We have no say with our births, or the hands we’re dealt.

I’m honestly, at a point where I don’t know why I should try anymore.