Sixty More Years Alone

  February 4th, 2019 by LiquidHuman

I promised someone I wouldn’t kill myself.
I was a beautifully poetic moment and all. He gave me some good points as to why I shouldn’t off myself. I might have cried a little. We both got closer to each other because of it. And maybe it does make me feel a little better about myself. But looking back in it, I kinda wish I didn’t make that promise. Because now I have to commit to staying alive.
The truth is, I’d rather not be here. I rather not slog through this earth any longer than I have to. Not too long ago I looked up the average age people die of natural causes in America. Turns out it’s 81. I’m twenty-one. Another sixty fucking years of this mess. Joy.
I feel alone. Not in a literal sense. I’m not locked up in my room 24/7, refusing to go outside and interact with the world. (Although sometimes I wish I could do that.) I feel as if I’m not meant to be with anyone. Not with strangers, not with my friends, not even with my own family. Something about me is different. Something about me just doesn’t mesh right. Like I was born socially deformed. In actuality, I probably was, due to my fucking Asperger’s.
The long and short of it is, I’ve lost my sense of self. I’ll be honest, I’m possibly the most gullible idiot there is. I’ll believe anything anyone with a seemingly higher IQ level than me says. So you know, most people. I realized this was a problem when I turned 18, how I just allowed other people to shape my views of the world, and then have a literal panic attack when I’m given new apposing information, then tailoring my mindset to match that. Repeat ad nauseum. So, what did I do to fix that? Close myself off to every opinion no matter what trusted individual gives it to me effectively alienating myself politically, socially and sometimes even physically.
Now how could this mindset possibly backfire?
Well, now I’ve gotten to the point where I mentally question everything. Every mindset, every viewpoint, everything. This is especially true with politics. Unsurprisingly, I hate politics. Not offense to people who like it by the way. But for me, it’s an endless cycle of questioning, hating myself for questioning, trying to force myself to think a certain way, failing, questioning— Well, you probably get the picture. And all while this is going on, I’ve also adopted another self-destructive habit. I’ve become almost a compulsive liar, telling people things I don’t actually believe because I know that’s what they want to hear. “Are you left wing?” “Yeah.” “Are you right wing?” “Sure.” “Democrat?” “Yeah, okay.” “Republican.” “Why the fuck not.” When in actuality, I have no fucking clue what I think anymore.
It can’t possibly be other people’s fault, right? It has to be all on me. Something about me is making it so I don’t mesh with other people or groups or ideologies. Maybe it’s the autism or the depression. Maybe I’m just naturally fucked up. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m stuck here. All because I made that stupid promise.
So how was you guys’ Monday?

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