Similar to alot of posts here and elsewhere I have the same sense of hopelessness. I think for me I have done everything I could and it just seems I’m meant to fall off the face of the planet now.
I know people will say if you are looking for things to get better it helps you to go out there and keep trying new things. Yet at the age of 30 and doing the things I’ve wanted to do and just find myself failing at those things all around, I don’t see any other thing in sight I want to try anymore.
I failed in life. Friendships all turned to shit. And slowly I’ve become distant to society.
The things I want to get better at require being good with people, yet I cannot fulfill that requirement. It all just seems pointless.
I think when you reach this point in life and have decided this is the best route for oneself, it seems death is the next viable option.
I’d rather die and be in peace than work to do things I don’t like doing to go on doing things I don’t like doing.
I have an easy method in mind. Already got my hands on the product. But I’m just going to sit a little bit longer before I’m ready.
Would not someone agree this makes it logical and acceptable to take ones own life?
6 comments
Man, I feel the start of this; I think it was around 30 I started to wonder what the point was. Now at 33 I’m relatively sure that there isn’t one, for anyone. Anyone alive has some people who care, and a much larger group that is antagonistic to indifferent.
So, as far as the outside world goes, you’ve got a fair point. It seems pretty pointless.
It may be meaningless, but that’s a gap to be filled. If your current life doesn’t satisfy [which I’m talking to me as much as you] that’s your signal it might be time to move on, do something different.
So, what you’re doing isn’t working, the discomfort is the emotional immune response to something that doesn’t fit. You can easily kill your career or your social being and your physical self can run off to somewhere else…. be a wandering hobo perhaps, or my idea which is a crazy old man building furniture in the woods. We’re talking about a personality that is a market to itself, no need to convince others of the utility of such beings, silly and meaningless all, but pointedly in a way that is supposed to make purposeful people think. Life as performance art… that’s my goal anyway
I feel a lot of the same things too. I’m also in my 30’s, not good with people at all, and “work to do things I don’t like doing to go on doing things I don’t like doing” seems like a pretty good description of how I imagine the future will go.
I’m curious about the last paragraph of what you said though. I came to a similar conclusion recently, that I was just doing something that didn’t fit, and killed my career as you say — and yet I still have many of the same problems, plus the fact that I can’t find a job due to lack of experience and/or being overqualified. Living in the woods would be kinda cool, I love nature and I’m a pretty avid backpacker, but that just doesn’t seem practical for a lot of reasons (physical health problems that require medication, almost zero knowledge of hunting/foraging/building houses/etc).
And what do you mean, a personality that is a market to itself?
I see what you are saying. In the end it is best to do you – whatever that may turn out to be.
To be honest I would still rather just die than become a hobo or live out in the woods.
I can relate to what you mean however to life being like a performance act. The only thing that still beckons me like a whisper, is getting into shape. Which I’ve gone through the rollercoaster with. To become the best version of myself. Failed many times over. Seemingly hopeless now. I like pizza and burgers too much.
A perfect day for me at this point is to do nothing for the next 5 years and just relax. But I fear that is not going to happen. Soon I’ll be thrust back into the real world and then all the broken dreams are going to start showing their faces to me again. More clearer than ever.
Clear that I just despise doing almost 90% of the things of this world and that I just don’t belong here.
Maybe my act is coming to an end. I don’t think it is something anyone should dread once reaching this point.
Oh come on you are all still so young and I was just getting started at 30. I thought I was getting old so I hooked up with two hot crazy women (they were both schizophrenic) and we did a bunch of coke and had a wild night lol. Then a year later I met the most wonderful woman in the world and 6 months later she got pregnant. Then we got married and lived happily ever after lol. Then I woke up and she was bipolar and BPD but damn we did have some incredible fun and wild times. I reached the highest highs and the lowest of lows over the last 25 or so years. If you wanna die now go find yourself a bipolar type and have some fun and do things you never thought you would do like shoot up meth or join the mile high club and in the end you will realize how much you really wanted to live when you were 30.
That sounds like a good time. Another reason to live for.
For me though I don’t have the best luck with women. At best it’s just when I’m doing good they show up and stay for a short time.
Plus finding a bipolar chick who will be with you for 25 years is not something people can find so easily. That’s quite good what you have done.
I guess I could find me a girl like that and accelerate the rate of my death as well. That sounds like a fantasy. But for some reason I prefer a quieter life. I know I’ll fuck up peoples’ lives. I’m done doing that to girls who been with me.
This is my last message I think. I appreciate you guys reaching out. But now I feel as though I’m reading the post of others who try to encourage the poster, but somehow it only can offer a helpful bandaid.
My bipolar ex wife left and went off the deep end many times. We probably lived together under the same roof for 7 out of the 25 years. She is on SS so she can get housing for $100 a month so her having a separate place is what kept us together most of those years. Living under the same roof with a BPD/BD is near impossible. But all good things must come to an end although she is trying her damndest to work her way back into my life again.