There’s so much wrongness in my mind, This gnawing, obsessive craving that eats away at me. Delusions that I can’t let go of.
‘If only reality was this certain way, then I’d be happy.’ Perhaps. But reality isn’t that way. It’s not going to happen like that, and there’s nothing I could do to change it.
But despite knowing that rationally, I can’t seem to accept it. Because all of my meaning, all of my hope, is bound up in these delusional fantasies. Accepting the truth – that it’s never going to happen, that it’was likely never possible, and certainly isn’t possible now – that forces me to confront the emptiness of my life. The nothingness that I am. The monster I’ve turned myself into.
And I don’t know how to live with the despair of that. So I fixate on fantasies of what cannot be. Because at least then I feel some flicker of positive emotion, some semblance of hope, even though it’s false, and craving after such fantasies quickly becomes it’s own kind of torture.
I probably shouldn’t exist. But I’m afraid to end it. To let go of being. To cease clinging to dreams of a life that never was. I fear hell. I fear having to finally face up to and answer for how I’ve lived.
I need to stop feeling this. But I suppose I’m also addicted to a cycle that produces these feelings. I’m addicted to living, and to continuing this suffering.
I have ruined my self, and now nothing is tolerable. Existence is a shard buried under the skin, digging it’s way ever deeper as I claw at myself. Nothing can ever be ok again, because I can’t let it be. Because I don’t know how to accept the reality of what I am, and what I’ve done, and what this world is.
Still, at least I have obscure doom metal bands to listen to, so I can properly wallow in my despair. Sometimes it even feels kind of comfortable, until my mind tries to remember. Shut up mind, with your stupid struggling and striving and trying to fix things. Shut up, and embrace the warm fuzziness/cold majesty of despair. It can be beautiful, but only as long as you don’t think about it too hard.
6 comments
What are you dreaming about/getting yourself down over?
Read through some of your stuffout of boredom. (You write a lot :P)
You remind me of someone I know that has avoidant personality disorder. He’d fantasize about people he wanted in his life, too, imagining things going perfectly, and avoid people or feeling like a failure in social settings, hated running into people, wanted people around but was afraid of messing up and being awkward etc Felt inadequate
Yes, I strongly relate to a lot of the symptoms of AvPD. I think they were linked to the roots of much of my dysfunction. Unfortunately I’ve built entire new levels of wrongness on top of that which make it even harder to envision an actually meaningful life. I’ve effectively proven my moral inferiority to myself beyond any doubt.
Reminds me of different theories on playing in early development but Winnicott’s concept of play was my favorite. You should read it, reminds me of you. 🙂
That’s interesting, what about it reminds you of things I write (or are there any summaries online you think relate to me)? I did spend an abnormal amount of time playing alone as a child, although I also had some friends at times.
I can relate to some of the sentiments here. I hate when I do it, but I tend to wonder about realities that could’ve happened if I did things differently. I drown myself in tv, music and schoolwork to try to combat the feelings of worthlessness and insecurities I have in general. I tend to avoid most people as a result. I don’t hate any of them per say, but I haven’t been maintaining most of my old relationships with people, and I’m not really building new relationships with anyone to the same degree as I did throughout my youth. It’s just a mess. It’s nice to know someone else gets it.