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A stale, stagnant feeling that I can’t shake.

by Her0Reb313

Lately i’ve been feeling blank, distant, withdrawn.  With all of this quarantine, social distancing and whatnot, I suppose i’ve been living somewhat of a hermit life.  I have a girlfriend, I live on beautiful land on the countryside, I get to witness a new day come and go and I really do think it’s a privilege.  I just sometimes feel like it’s all a painting, or a film that i’ve seen thousands of times before and sometimes it’s hard for me to appreciate the beauty because I feel like there is a missing element in my life that I can’t quite place my thumb on.

I’ve searched my mind, calculated my relationships, my job, my social status, etc..  I guess I just feel like much of it is a lie.  I’ve built this version of myself based off the results of something traumatic from my past.  I grew up at a young age, was absent of anything normal to me for 5 years at the age 16.  I remember for 5 years I lived in my mind, and I was on this alternative “life” that I had created in my mind.  My world consisted of as far as I could see out of my window.   A bird flying by overhead had more freedoms than I.

I’ve lived a life of woe is me but that’s not me anymore.  In my mind it’s not apart of me to feel weak , but to constantly become stronger no matter my personal struggles.  Sometimes I feel like it’s borderline sociopathic with my way of thinking.  I’ve buried 4 people close to me in the last 3 years, 3 of them I was the one to put the final nail in the coffin.  I mean I think about those moment a lot, like alot ALOT, but I think back about how I didn’t exactly “mourn” and just sort of silent reflected on my memories of them.  At the funerals I studied my family members around me and how they wept, how they shared stories, said hello.  My contribution was helping with the service, chatting with people was close enough to talk to, and just staying out of the way not trying to draw any sort of attention.

I mourned for one of them.  It took about a liter of alcohol for me to really allow myself to feel for him.  I cried for the first time in almost 8 years.  I don’t know if I was crying for him or crying because I felt that lonely flutter in my stomach and heart and it was just a strange feeling.  He meant a lot to me when we were younger.  It’s been a couple years now and I haven’t felt like that since.  Although I run this thought through my mind alot about how his brother feels because I see him alot around my place of work.

I guess i’m sort of detached.  I don’t know if that’s a bad thing really.  I think anymore when I have this sense of detachment I sort of see things for what they are, and it’s lonely.  It’s like that movie “They Live” when Rowdy Rod Piper has the glasses on as see’s things for what they are, but he can’t just explain it to someone unless they too are wearing the glasses.  I can’t explain this void in the pit of my stomach, my heart and my soul.

I’m not suicidal, although sometimes I still have this overpowering feeling when I DO find some bliss in my life that “This would be the perfect time to die”.  It usually happens when I feel spiritually at peace, or something profound happens and I just feel like I could “let go” and everything would be okay.

I don’t want my tears hitting the ground, I don’t want my blood hitting the sand unless it’s because I died fighting for someone or something I believe in.

I’ve contemplated suicide MANY times in my little life, and i’ve attempted it twice but fate told me otherwise and i’ve taken it as a sign.  My life is meant for something or someone else in the long run.  I’ve decided I won’t have children of my own incase there is ever a situation where I need to sacrifice myself for someone else.  I’m not on a suicide mission, but I know there is going to be a moment in my life where i’m going to have to make a decision.  In the environment I live in, it sometimes only feels like a matter of time.

I recently had a “nightmare” where I was in a stressful situation where I had to pull the trigger on myself.  I don’t want to go into details on my dream because it would be twice as long as the post is right now.  Since then i’ve had time to reflect.  I don’t want to be that version of me.  That version who let’s go no matter how dire the situation may be.  I’ve already survived one horror,. I can’t allow to succumb to another.

I don’t know.. I have things to say but at the same time i really don’t have a format in my mind for the things I really want to express.  I have typed many things out on here but ultimately deleted it.  I think i’m more of a listener, observer, and a helper than I am someone who admits their demons.

I like reading the posts on here.  I may not always agree with some mindsets, and I ALWAYS believe people are not too far gone.  Especially if they take the time to write about their lives.  I enjoy that others can open up about themselves.  The only thing people have to keep in mind is that they are also opening themselves up to discrimination, as I am now.

Personally, I welcome criticism in my life.  One thing i’ve learned from past experience is that WORDS…words do not always resonate with a person right away.  I’ve had people who were seemingly against me provide me with harsh, truthful information that i couldn’t handle at the time.. but eventually, those words found me, and it made a difference.  Maturity makes a difference when it comes to interacting with others.

We can’t make it alone anymore.,  We need people in our lives.

I need people in mine, i’m just a difficult person sometimes.  I know it.

I’ve flaked out on love interests because I was scared that they’d hurt me, or i’ve bailed on friendships because they were unhealthy for me.  It’s okay to be distant.  That’s the defense mechanism for some people.

Anyway, i’ll end this ramble.

I want to be on here, read and reply to peoples posts more often but i’ve recently started work again and it’s physically taxing.  Tonight I bought myself some whiskey and said fuck it, i’m gonna write!

I leave you with song.  Peace out, people.


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Abnormal.Thoughts 10/7/2020 - 9:07 am

It can be difficult to express yourself, more often than not, when I wrote a post, I find that what I’ve written was not what I had intended. Nevertheless, it’s therapeutic to just let yourself pour some of your thoughts into something more physical. I suppose that’s the entire concept of many arts.

I’m sorry for your losses, I don’t think that it’s a matter of being callous to the death, people just mourn differently. I was very close to my grandma and grandpa, I didn’t cry at their funerals, maybe it was because I felt the need to show strength for everyone else, I don’t know: I did cry for them at some point, when I was alone with the thought that they were gone, but it was too little too late, I couldn’t let anyone else see that weakness or explain to them why I was crying suddenly a year later when I didn’t shed a tear at the service. Just like words, sometimes it takes time before these things resonate with you.

As for being distant and blank, I have no words of advice, things do change, hopefully you find your presence there eventually.

Hazy Day Sunflower 10/7/2020 - 6:50 pm

Thank you for sharing. I really enjoyed your post and related to a lot of it. My entire childhood is one giant blank filled in by memories I totally made up. Just keep walking forward. Forward never lies.

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