What is real and what is not.

The onky thing I have that confirms that I’m still alive is physical pain. Honestly… didn’t I already die? Why can I still move

Everyone just laughs at me. Any attempt I make at anything is just laughable. Why should I even try? I’m tired of trying. I’ll never be enough. Not for me. Not for anyone else.

My mother tells me I need to help her out more. I can’t even get out of bed and she expects me to take out the trash and walk the dog. I think my mother hates me. I think everyone hates me. The only person that I’ve ever met that didn’t hate me for who I was was my girlfriend. And I managed to make her hate me too.

What’s the point? Really, sometimes I wish I would stop feeling pain. If I don’t feel any pain. Then… Then I can disconnect completely. I can just become. Not dead, but not alive either. Completely detached from everything. No memories. No feelings. No pain. No guilt. No happiness. No sadness. No nothing. I think the only thing I would feel would be panic and fear. But that’s fine. I feel that anyway.

It’s weird how, sometimes the most terrifying thing I can imagine is getting stuck inside my own head. Trapped, without a way out. And other times, it’s the most pleasant thing that I can imagine. I don’t really enjoy a lot of things anymore, and most of the time, I’m just mad. Or bored. Either that, or I have absolutely no idea what I’m feeling because there’s too much going on inside my head for me to think clearly. When I wake up, and before I go to sleep, my head is a total mess. Then, throughout the day, it gets slightly better. But it’s always the worst at night. That’s why I can’t sleep. I see faces everywhere in the dark. Faces that aren’t actually there. I hear noises. Noises that don’t come from anything real. I manage to convince myself that there’s a completely reasonable explanation for those things happening… But I’m always too scared to investigate them. The faces talk to me sometimes. Well, not really talk. They never move actually. They are just staring at me. Sometimes they laugh at me. They only laugh at me when I want to die and when I hate life. They touch me sometimes too. Usually on my feet or legs. Very rarely on my arms. Never on my face. Sometimes they choke me. Or squeeze my chest. So that my heart beats really fast. I don’t panic from that. It takes a lot to make me panic. I’ve always been taught that when you’re in a scary situation, the last thing you want to do is panic. It’s hard to make myself not panic, but I have some techniques to make myself not panic. Actually. It’s just telling myself that it’s going to be over soon and whatever is happening to me at the moment won’t last forever. I think my life actually will get better. Not now. Not anywhere close to now. Not anywhere in the near future. Maybe in ten years. In ten years I think I will be fine. I think that in ten years, I will remember all of this… Or maybe I won’t remember it at all. I won’t feel happy or sad when I think about it. Maybe some regret. Or maybe I won’t feel any regret. Maybe I will just have accepted at that point that… I can’t change the past. The only thing I can do is keep my head up and oh my god who am I kidding. I sound like some fucking bullshit motivational speaker. I don’t know. I just hope that it will get better. I know that it will only get worse… I am not even close to the bottom. I’ve barely even scratched the surface. I know that it’s going to get worse. It’s going to get worse, and worse, and worse, until it can’t get any worse. And when I come back above the surface, my personality will be completely different. I will be completely unrecognizable to the people that knew me before my depression hit. Or actually. I’m not sure if depression ever “hit” me. I’m actually not even sure if depression is the right word. I mean, I’m not sure what depression even means. I don’t think I’ve ever “felt depressed”. I just hate myself, feel pain all over my body, and I want to die. I don’t think that’s what depression is. Isn’t depression supposed to be a sad feeling? I very rarely feel sad. I do feel a bit tired though. But well. I’m not entirely sure where I was going with this. To me, depression feels like a set path. Something that resulted from a lot of pain accumulating and not being dealt with. It feels like depression is just a placeholder for what should actually be there. I don’t know what should actually be there. But depression, depression to me, I depression is like a current. Like a current in an ocean. A deepwater current, pulling you further and further out. Hard to escape from, and never something that you want. Just something that you stumble on by accident, and you didn’t even realize you had until you see how far you are from the shore. Some people get rescued, some people are too far out to be saved, some people never really learned how to swim. And sometimes… very rarely, but sometimes… that current takes you somewhere completely different. Like how the maori people used to navigate using the currents of the ocean to navigate it. I feel like depression is something that I HAVE to go through, and something that I can’t escape from. There is no easy way out. It would be great if there were. But there’s no cure to being broken. Just like there is no “cure” for a broken car or computer. It takes time to fix, and some parts need to be replaced often.

I manage to somehow stray extremely far off the original topic in almost every post I make lol. That’s weird. This was supposed to be about disassociating. Well, anyway. I want to end this on a positive note because all my previous posts have been negative and I feel like this one is slightly more uplifting. I hope that most of us are going to make it. 🙂