I’ve been glancing around — grasping blindly, I guess — looking for somewhere to vent, and it’s honestly made my sense of social distance worse. I suppose I shouldn’t say “worse,” since social distance isn’t necessarily a subjective feeling so much as an assessment of social place, but whatever.
It’s hard to feel connected to others going through depression and contemplating suicide, given what I’ve seen.
It’d be easier to explain where I am mentally. I’m tired. I’m tired of trying, and I’m tired of what I see. There are amazing wonders out there in the world and even hidden deep in people; I know this and haven’t lost sight of it, I simply don’t care anymore. It’s not a sudden discovery, but a gradual acceptance that I really just don’t want to be involved in it. Basically, I could do without it.
I don’t want to leave behind people who will grieve and be hurt by my loss, but it doesn’t really matter. Feelings are subjective, life is life, people die and the world keeps turning, and I won’t be around to deal with it. Sure, I’m depressed. Some docs may even throw around this or that reason or such and such treatment, but I feel that whatever clinical diagnoses they may throw at me, my depression is a symptom, not a cause.
It’s a symptom of what I see — social interactions on individual and global levels that have no real meaning, irrationality, idiocy, poverty, lack of compassion, … as I’m typing it out, it’s all coming out as issues caused by people, seems like if I managed to deal with them, everything would be okay, but that’s not it. I could live in solitude with only things that give me amusement, live off the land and not deal with people, but that wouldn’t be enough. Human beings need social interaction of some kind, and I’m no exception. I’m simply tired of that tether. Even without that tether, living as I want to live, I’m bored with it all. Where does it go from there? Oh, experience life, love, and the beauty of living! But not really. Sure, I’d be taking away times I could enjoy, experiences and memories, but it doesn’t go anywhere from there. Who cares?
It ends, we die, cycles continue. Don’t care.
Living is a natural wonder, and scientifically, my life has been an experience. But I’m done. I don’t care where the experiment goes from here. My being here or not has no greater impact, and even if it did, it logically could not impact much in the grander scope of things.
Is it selfish? Sure. But all value that we place on anything is so subjective, so innately selfish. Why should I care?
I guess what I’m saying is that it’s hard for me to find comfort or belonging among others when it’s not a matter of feeling depressed so much as it is simply being done. Living is a burden, and I’m too (insert descriptive phrase — lazy, selfish, whatever) to want to deal with it anymore, because it ultimately does not matter at all.
I had an MRI done yesterday because of a mild concussion with recurring symptoms (all unrelated to current mental state), and I was actually disappointed when I got the call saying nothing was wrong. I wanted something to be wrong. I wanted some kind of expiration date, something to look forward to, some natural cause of impending death to just take the responsibility out of my hands. And that frustration and disappointment is driving me crazy today. I don’t know who to tell because I don’t want to impose on others or their moods. I don’t want help. I’m just aggravated that I wasn’t dealt an easy exit hand.
Does anyone else feel that way?
3 comments
I know the feeling of being done, well.
Those of us who wish to exit quick and easy, seem to live forever.
There’s some eerie comfort in knowing that the moment we’re born, we’re living to die.
I’m thinking out loud and soon everything is going to be sporadic and all over the map.
I’m bored of life. Simple enough.
This was well written.
Hi SomethingClever, That was an awesome writeup. You said it well. I do feel you how you do quite often. I’ve tried to exit many times to none being successful. You decribed me almost perfectly in all what you wrote. I to had brain surgery when i was 22yrs hoping that i wouldn’t come out of it. Now here i am, it worked for 7 years and now it’s slowing coming back again. My days are numbered not because of the medical issue, well that may play a part in it but it’s more mental than anything, but because i’m tired of my life aswell. Why are we here, why are we punished, this world is so cruel, what it matter if we expire sooner than were suppose to. were all gonna go one day anyways. I am not religious by anymeans but i’ve often been told we are here as a test for another life afterwards, really!!! why do so many of us feel so bad and horrible about our life. Sorry for how you are feeling but be strong, keep your head high and think positive. Take care
LB
I feel very close to your description. Thanks for sharing it. I agree in many ways. I have not been to see anyone except for once, a therapy session in which I discussed trivial matters. I don’t think anyone suspects I have these feelings except maybe a few very close friends, but even then to a low extent. The facade I often present is something that has become routine, and I see no point in shaking it up. I’ve dealt with the unavoidable feelings of indifference by cutting, which, very temporarily provides a high through which I achieve “feeling” something, but really now has just become a sporadic hobby. It hurts physically and gives me the illusion of real feeling for a little while. A part of me wants so much to go and explore and see the world and blah blah blah, but the other more overwhelming side of me sees no point. Happy, sad, angry, indifferent, I just feel like I’m imprisoned by my own mind, like we all are, and whatever I do or see or get high of off won’t ever change that. Give me a chance to engage in any reckless activity, however limitatively satisfying the temporary occasion is for escape from this lack of what some perhaps believe is truly living, and I’ll take it. I want something terrible to happen. Either it kills me or I become someone else from it, which will or will not change my thoughts, but at least maybe I’ll feel shaken up, exhilarated, in real pain. Perhaps I’m just babbling now. ’cause even if it’s pain, even if it shakes up my entire life, humans adjust and move on and then I’ll be back where I am now, seeing no point, feeling no deep attachment to this odd place that combines my mind and this silly, shallow, structured planet. Sorry if my sentences are a little convoluted/lacking proper grammar. At the same time, though, to actually take my own life seems so tedious, too. Sometimes I feel like I’d rather die in some cloud of synthetic happiness, falling on my head backwards skydiving drunk or something than slit my wrists or shoot myself, but then again, that too I’m not even sure about. Maybe it should just all be over now, however how.