I have no excuse to stay alive anymore. I’ve lost the one person who meant something to me. I don’t have anyone else to fall back on. It’s my own fault for allowing myself to believe that I would actually get better. I can’t feel anything anymore. Everything is more fucked than usual. There’s no reason for me to put off doing it anymore. I think this might be a good bye. I wish the best for everyone.
I’m so confused. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know where I stand with anyone anymore. I keep fucking everything up for everyone. My brain’s so fucked and I don’t know why. Maybe I do. I don’t know. I don’t know if my parents actually care about me.
They used to beat the shit out of me. They don’t seem to really remember that. I don’t think they understood just how bad they hurt me when they did what they did. I’m sure they’d think I was a ***** if I ever told them that “they hurt my feelings”, which sounds so stupid and childish. I’m stupid and childish. They had every right to beat me. I just wish they had hurt me more so I’d stop acting like such a fucking *****. That’s the only way I’d ever fucking shut up. But now, I need that more than ever because I’ve been talking and feeling shit and everything and I have nothing to control anything anymore. I need someone to beat me.
They stopped beating me as hard, and I hardly talk to them anymore. I’ll have to go home in 12 days. I can’t bear to be back in the house where I was raped as a kid. It happened more than once. I thought it was just once, but there were too many different things that I remembered, they didn’t line up. She did it more than once. I don’t know what to do. They’re both good people, my parents. They’re mostly good parents to my brother, my sister, and I usually, so what reason do I have to complain? I should be thankful for what I have. I’m so ungrateful. I wish they would hurt me again so I could learn to be grateful properly.
I don’t know what to do. No, that’s not true. I just don’t want to hurt people more than I already do. I know this is for the best in the long run, though, so I should just accept it. I’m so selfish, but I’m selfish whether I kill myself or stay alive at this point. If I kill myself, then I’m putting the ending of my own suffering above the cares of others, and that’s shitty; if I stay alive, I’m causing everyone I love so much pain and that’s shitty, too. There’s no non-selfish choice. I’m irredeemable at this point anyway. I’m damaged goods to the point that no one would want to buy me except out of pity. Even then, I’m more of a detriment than I ever could be a benefit.
I shouldn’t explain this to you. It’s selfish of me to take up your time with my grievances, but it’s selfish of me to be alive at all. Hopefully I will put an end to my selfishness soon, for everyone’s sake.
She was drunk. Doesn’t that make it my fault? She was raped before. That’s the only reason she did it. She wouldn’t have done it to me if it wasn’t done to her. She was too drunk to know what she was doing and it wasn’t her fault, right? And God will condemn me for adultery and homosexuality. She’s taken any chance of heaven away from me. She stripped me of any hope for a future. There is nothing after this. Not even death could let me escape this hell. It’s never going to end and I am going to continue to be tortured by all of this. I should’ve told her no. She would’ve listened, even if she was drunk. I didn’t even try to stop her. Maybe it wasn’t even rape then, since I didn’t tell her not to. I couldn’t say anything because I couldn’t call for help and my brother and sister were sleeping. I could’ve figured something else out, though. I always do. I have to. I have to find a way out. I can’t be trapped like this anymore.
Besides, she’s a good person now. Why am I still harping on about something that happened 8 years ago? I should’ve dealt with it when it happened. Why did my brain shove this away until recently? Maybe I have to live in this hell. It’s my punishment. I shouldn’t have fucked everything up for her anyway. I ruined her life. I ruin everything. I am a mistake.
I won’t escape because I can’t escape.
Yeah, I am rather aggravated that you guys are getting on so well without me. Yeah, I’m pretty angry that all these years, all it took for you guys to be happy was me leaving the house. It sucks to be the apparent problem. It sucks when everyone around you knows it, and no one tells you. It sucks to be this much of a pathetic asshole that I’m getting upset at you for not telling me, your incredibly violent daughter, that you would be better off if I left. I know why you did it, though. Don’t misunderstand me; I know full well why you never told me that I was the problem. It just sucks that I am not only as bad as I thought; I am so much worse. It just really sucks to be this terrible because I honestly don’t understand just how bad I really am, so I can’t properly fix it. I am so much worse than I thought. Where do I go from here? Is it going to be a burden to you if I come back at Christmastime? Who am I kidding; of course it will be. And you won’t ever tell anyone and get yourselves some help. That’s the worst part; this entire time I’ve been fussing over myself like the selfish little fuck that I am when you are the ones who have been suffering and you are the ones who need the help from all of the terrible things I inflicted upon your family.
What you did was never really abuse, then. It was the only possible reaction to my own aggravated violence that I brought onto my family, and I was the last person who should’ve been complaining. Why didn’t you help yourselves and throw me out? You were always far too kind to me anyway. You always tried your best to nurture me, even when I didn’t deserve it. That’s why you started ignoring me. You had no choice but to ignore me; you couldn’t take any more of me, but you felt some sort of parental obligation to put up with me, and the only way that was possible was if you completely ignored me. How rude of me for lacking understanding. How can I pride myself on having a great understanding of others when I can’t even be bothered to understand those who are closest to me? That’s pure wickedness on my part. I truly am a “devil child”, aren’t I? I believe those were your words. I resented you for chastising me when I should’ve loved you for trying to make me better. I truly am evil.
I wish that, for your sakes, you had thrown me out, but I suppose it makes it all of my bad actions and misdeeds by you even more poignant now, doesn’t it? You were just trying to do what was best for me, and I couldn’t even find it in me to thank you for that. It is not you who should be asking for forgiveness, but I. And I don’t even think I can ask for it at this point. I do not deserve your forgiveness, and judging by your past kindness, you probably won’t hesitate to forgive me. I can’t let you do that. I am evil and it is necessary that I am condemned. So, all I can do is apologize for my disgraceful behavior and leave you all alone permanently, so as not to cause any further damage to any of you. You never did anything but love me, and I not only took advantage of that kindness, but I ruined that kindness, and for that I am terribly sorry. Once again, I do not seek your forgiveness. It would be wrong of me to ask for something so far out of what I merit. Perhaps someday I will be a better person and I can come back to ask for proper forgiveness from you. Until then, it is only right of me to leave you all alone to continue in your happiness. I love you all dearly, and I hope that you can learn to refuse me that feeling in return.
You know what’s attractive about a self-sabotaging, incessantly angry, overly-formal asshole? Yeah, me neither. Looking back on my day, all I can see is me screwing up every single piece and part of my day. Not little fuck ups either. No, of course not. That would be forgivable and we all know I’m far beyond any kind of forgiveness. Instead, I not only ruined my day, but fucked up the lives of those around me. That’s right, folks! I’m a goddamn irredeemable piece of shit!
You know what’s funny? I can’t stand the thought of anyone loving or even liking me. It’s an absolutely abhorrent thought to me that someone would settle for me when there are better people out in the world. I’ve sabotaged several relationships because of this, and I’m sure it will continue. I suppose I don’t exactly feel like I need to worry about someone actually loving me, because I don’t think anyone will ever be able to feel love for such a self-sabotaging piece of dog shit. This is understandable, and I say this without jealousy or anger toward anyone. I’ve come to terms with myself as the piece of dog shit that I am, and I suppose I hope everyone comes to terms with this as well. Perhaps it is naivety that people will protect themselves from me. All the same, I will pursue this naivety.
Don’t tell me you love me. You don’t. No one does because no one can. (What makes you think you’re right, Kid? Who’s to say you’re not just being a narcissistic asshole control freak?)
I swear to god, I’m just one big conglomerate of unforgivable sins. I am fucking shit and I just want to be dead. Nothing is working anymore. I’m sure I’ll be gone soon enough, though, and I’ll stop being such a burden to everyone.
But hey, at least you’ll all get a good show the whole way to my death!!!
Whoever said “talking helps” is a fucking liar. Or maybe I’m just a fucking idiot for thinking that advice for good people could ever apply to something like me. I fucking ruin everything.
Fucking ruined my friend’s feelings for a nice guy because I admitted to liking him, even though I know that my friend and him would be a better match and she wouldn’t destroy his feelings like I would. I know damn well that I am not mentally stable enough to get into a relationship, and still I said I liked him. I should’ve lied. I fucking hate myself. I never lie at the right times. I know damn well that I can’t be with him, and furthermore, that she could. What was I thinking? What the fuck is wrong with me? Nobody wants to be around damaged goods, and, as much as I’d love to believe otherwise, that’s all I am. It’s better that I accept this before I try to get into a relationship. What a fucking dumbass.
Then, I let it slip that I cut myself. Like the person I told didn’t have problems of his own. He has better, more important things to worry about. Goddamn it, he’s a fucking good kid. He deserves a lot better than some annoying twat telling him about a “bad habit”. I’m a fucking addict. I’m disgusting. I’m abhorrent. I don’t want fucking sympathy. I want that to be given to the people who deserve it; I don’t deserve it. And then I just fucking barge in ruining things. “Hey! Guess what! I cut myself and I’m suicidal! Did I happen to mention that I’m a fucking psycho? Well, I am! Sorry, didn’t mean to rain on your parade!” Fucking cringey ass *****. I have every right to be ashamed and guilty.
And now tonight, I told someone a small part of why I’m going away. She didn’t know what happened. She still doesn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to fuck things up more after I let that shit slip.
I am a fucking accident. It’s absolutely shameful for me to go around making people miserable. I can’t believe I did that. Fucking shameful. What a fucking monster. I am not a fucking human and I don’t deserve any of your kindness. I hope this helps you see that.
Do I trust the abusive brain that wishes me alive, or do I trust the loving body that allows me to die?
“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”
Death is not an option. You can’t escape this that easily. You will not be condemned. You will not be abandoned. You will not be forgotten. You don’t get to choose what happens to you.
Death is not a solution. It is not an out. It will not provide the escape you wish for.
The grave holds no victory, no relief, no satisfaction. You long for something out of your reach. You long for a pain that you cannot have.
There is no escape, and you must accept that.
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
(Apologies for the mildly religious post)
I hope it doesn’t get better for me. I hope my life goes to absolute shit and I am left a miserable, hollow shell that wishes only to die. I’m not far off now! Just keep pushing! That’s what I hear in my head all the time. It never stops. It never quiets down. It never goes to sleep. It just keeps shouting. Just a little farther! Don’t stop now! Keep ruining your life! You deserve more than this! You should be thankful this is all you’re getting! You deserve worse!
And it’s true. I guess that’s what makes it even more difficult to deal with. No one wants to see themself as a terrible, miserable, bag of shit human being. But if it’s true, and you know it’s true, the will to fight off that mentality goes away and you’re left with a constant voice shouting, screaming, wailing that you’re not fucking hurt enough so stop complaining on the internet you worthless scummy asshole, no one will ever love you because you fuck up everything you touch and how dare you even think to deny that. Don’t you dare ever look for love because you and I both know that you’ll just hurt that person more than you’ll hurt yourself and hurting someone is an unforgivable sin. You’re already an unforgivable; don’t go off and make it worse for everyone, you miserable pile of shit. I hope you get your will to live back and then get kidnapped and tortured and killed. I hope it hurts so you can finally know true pain, not this bullshit you’ve been passing off as pain. What? You think because you’ve cut yourself, because you’ve harmed yourself that you’re in a tragic mental state? What about all those people who cared about you? How do you think they feel? You’re ruining them just so you can get attention, aren’t you?
Because we all know that’s all you are, a goddamned attention whore. You want everyone to pay attention to you, no matter the pain it causes them. You’ve made yourself a goddamned freak show just to get an ounce of attention from those around you, like you expect that attention to make you feel better about yourself. But you and I both know that nothing makes you feel better about yourself.
And that’s why I’m in control. I’m only doing what’s best for you. I can’t have you hurting those around you. I need to do the right thing, and that’s why I’m in control and you’re not. You’ve proven to me and everyone around you that you can’t handle being in control of your own body, so you need to just accept that and leave it up to me. You fucked up, and you keep fucking up, so let me take charge. I know how to do these things, and I know that you don’t, so just leave this to me. Leave it all to me.
BUT NO, YOU WON’T EVEN DO THAT TO HELP THOSE YOU CARE ABOUT, WILL YOU? YOU’RE A SELFISH, EMOTIONAL MONSTER WHO FEELS NOTHING AND REFUSES TO CARE FOR THOSE AROUND YOU! AND WHEN YOU’RE OFFERED THE HELP THAT YOU WANTED SO SEVERELY, YOU REJECT IT! HOW CAN YOU EVER EXPECT ANYONE TO LOVE YOU? HOW CAN YOU EVER EXPECT ANYONE TO FUCKING CARE ABOUT YOU WHEN YOU’RE ONLY GOING TO HURT THEM TO SABOTAGE YOURSELF? DO YOU EVEN RECOGNIZE YOUR SINS?
You probably don’t even recognize them. You’ve wasted everything that’s been given to you, you worthless pile of shit. You don’t care about anyone around you, and I hope that you never forgive yourself. I hope you’re left as miserable as you make everyone around you feel. I hope you die.
But no, that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to die so you can inconvenience everyone around you again. You want to break the trust that has been placed in you. You don’t deserve the kindness of death, you selfish, egotistical bastard. You deserve immortality so that you can wallow in the consequences of your faults. You are the mistake. If anyone had been put in your shoes, if any other soul had been put into your body, they would have turned out better. But you are too goddamn selfish to care about anyone but yourself. I hope you live a long, tortured life in solitude and the misery that you willingly cast upon yourself. You deserve a strong, agonizing pain, but I suppose guilt will have to suffice. I hope that you can still feel guilt so that you can see the immorality in all of your actions. You are the worst.
You should be ashamed of yourself. You think that you’re going to get sympathy for this post? I’ve just revealed some of your sins, your faults, your guilt. Your justified guilt. No one is going to pity you for being an asshole. No one is going to want you to stay alive. They might write that, but people say things to be polite to things that they pity but don’t actually care about. No one could ever care about you. Don’t lie to yourself. I’m the only thing that can come close to caring about you, and you’re not even thankful for it. No, instead you whine and complain. “O, woe is me! My brain said some mean things to me!” Of course you leave out the part about how you deserved it. You leave it out because you are ashamed, and rightfully so.
Before we get this shit-show on the road, I want to make one thing clear:
You didn’t do this to me. You didn’t push me to this point. I’m far too self-righteous to believe anyone could do anything to me (after all, this whole “suicide” thing is always about “showing God who’s boss”, right?). Anyway, don’t feel guilty, this isn’t your fault, nothing you could do, I drove myself to it, etc. Same necessary disclaimers that shift all blame to me. I’d tell you where to send questions, comments, and concerns, but I’m dead (assuming all’s gone according to plan) and will not be able to answer them.
So, snow’s the part of the note where I talk about why I did it. This isn’t any of your business, though. If you didn’t know by now, you weren’t meant to know. It’s kind of like how I’m not meant to be alive. There’s nothing you can do but take the truth just as it is —- even in its form as a wriggling, slimy maggot. They’ll eat through you just the same.
I should probably talk about how I feel guilty, but if you had any base knowledge about me, it’s that I’m guilty. I feel guilty for everything, and I’m too selfish to let anyone’s words convince me that I am not telling the truth to myself. I guess that’s the thing about being fucked up; there’s some “fucked up” that just can’t be fixed. I could recognize about a million problems. I tried to fix them, but I must not have been “trying my hardest” or whatever, because nothing ever came of it. I keep screwing up everyone’s lives.
There’s something I heard awhile back, and I might be paraphrasing it with minor errors, but what I remember really got to me: “Aren’t these just symptoms of your own deficiencies?”
We all want to fix ourselves. My understanding of human nature requires an overwhelming sense of egocentricity, or at least a higher respect for oneself than anyone else. I don’t want that to happen to me, so instead, I’ve accumulated not only the fault I tried so desperately to avoid, but a whole fucking variety of the rest.
Back to the deficiency thing, I realized this morning that I don’t exactly deserve to live with all of these people I love so dearly, especially if my deficiencies cause pain and inconveniences on their part. I have been nothing but terrible to them. I don’t think it really matters that I did try very hard not to have this happen, and that I tried to stay alive for them, but maybe it makes the difference for whoever reads this note. My deficiencies were irreconcilable, even when I tried my best to fight against them. I was an inconvenience at best.
So, I know I said that I wouldn’t waste your time with why I killed myself, and I guess you still only got part of it, but I guess it just goes to show how much of a hypocritical liar I really am. I’m sorry for that, and I’m sorry for being to much of a contemptible coward to come forth and aplogize to your face, and I understand if you hold no respect, love, or forgiveness for me. That’s a lot more than I could ever be bold enough to ask for. I’ve ruined you all, and I can’t expect your lives to be mended by a single word of five letters.
Anyway, I don’t have last words, so don’t record these. That’s bullshit. None of my words ever did what they were supposed to.
Just because I didn’t mean to do something doesn’t mean I didn’t do it all the same. Just because my intentions weren’t bad doesn’t mean that the situation ended positively.
But I’ll be damned if I crawl back to your sorry ass begging for mercy. I might apologize for a minor aspect, but I don’t expect, want, or need you to forgive me. If I do it, I do it to make peace with myself and my conscience. You are not worth the guilt I felt, and I hate saying that, but you are the one asswipe in the world who deserves these words.
I hope you turn out better.
Every time, every fucking time this happens. It’s not a new thing. It’s happened since the beginning, and it will continue to the end. Every time that I think I’m doing better, it never gets any better.
What a dumbass ***** I am. I knew nothing gets better, but I expected it all the same.
Change. Test. Repeat. Change. Test. Repeat. Change. Test. Repeat. Am I any better because of it? No! I’m the same shitty person I was back then. I just recognize it now.
I don’t want anything good to happen to me anymore. I am a shitty person and I deserve nothing more than to be tortured in this nightmare life.
I am a fucking liar, and for no good reason. I’m not worth protecting, so why should I lie? “If your word is no good, then you are no good.”
I am no good.
Your endgame is death. You have no real purpose in living. You don’t have any objectives in my life, and it’s been suggested that you make some. Find something to do, anything.
While you are alive, your objective is to make yourself as scarce as possible. Help others. If harm is to come to anyone, do everything in you power to make it come to you. You are unimportant. You are an extra, you can take the fault. You are disposable. Take the blame unless it is beneficial to others.
You have no grand dreams or imaginations. You don’t want to be happy. You don’t want to love anyone. You don’t deserve to love anyone or take any love. You will only take love if it is beneficial to the person giving.
You can work the jobs that no one wants to work while still managing to use what you are decent enough at. Choosing something you are good at is beneficial for those around you.
If someone starts a conversation with you, keep to small talk. They don’t care about your day; they are talking to you for small talk. Everyone is only talking to you for small talk and so that they are not alone. Don’t be offended by this. This is not meant to offend. This is meant to give you the truth. This is the truth you need to hear.
If you are going to die, you don’t deserve to have it on your own terms, but accidents and illnesses are welcome.
Self-harm is to be allowed only if it does not scar. Scarring makes people care, and you don’t deserve that. It doesn’t help anyone around you if it scars. Bruising is still up for grabs, though. Self-harm is not to be used as a crutch, but as a teaching tool. Use it accordingly.
If you find something that you enjoy, take it away. Take care of the body only in what is absolutely necessary. If you suspect you have a life-threatening illness/wound, do not seek medical attention unless it is going to cause inconvenience to those around you. You are a secondary thought.
You don’t deserve anything you get from other people. Therefore, you are to take care of whatever is given to you and be gratuitous to everyone. Gratitude towards everyone is essential; you are living in their life, screwing it up. Don’t take that for granted and try to make your screw-ups small.
Do not be selfish. If someone asks for something, give it to them, even if it is not beneficial. People grow only through their mistakes. You are to act as humanoid creature with self control.
Lie to people if it it makes them feel better. Nobody really wants the truth unless they specifically ask for it, in which situation you are to give truth with as much kindness as you can muster. Kindness towards others is above even truth. Truth towards yourself in regards to your mistakes is the only truth that is necessary. You have few good qualities, but one of them is following instructions. Let your talent be used here.
Do your best to be as good as possible. True goodness is not achievable, but you can be better. Be better. This is to be your guide to that.
Stop complaining. You have nothing to complain about, so stop looking for them. Your life is damn near perfect. So what, you had a bad past? So has everyone else. You are not special. If you find yourself with an ounce of “respect” for yourself, rip it out. Narcissism is a weed that is more easily killed in it’s infancy.
These are your truths and are not to be used for anyone but yourself. This will be your way of fixing things. This is how you change. Be better. Do not use this to advise anyone but yourself. You are different, which is not to say that you are by any means “special”. Do not confuse the terms. Others are special, but you are not. Others are not you and should not follow these rules. These truths are yours and yours alone.
I tried to tell someone yesterday. They wouldn’t have hated me. They already know I’m like this. They would’ve understood and they would’ve helped. This isn’t on them, though. This is on me. This is my problem. This is my fault. They have their own problems and they don’t need my needy bullshit shoved onto them. I hate the thought of making them miserable with my problems. I can’t do it anymore.
I feel like I’m just fucking ruining everything. They’d hate me if I told them now and I would hate me, too. Nobody likes a liar, not even an undesirable like myself. I’m such a hypocrite about that shit, too. I expect the truth all the time, but I can’t remember the last time I told someone the whole truth.
I’m slowly losing my grasp on reality, more than in my years of delusional nihilism. I feel like nothing again. I feel like I’ve gotten a quarter of the way through the expected lifetime and haven’t done one damned thing to show for it. I’m still such a fucking baby. I’m still out of control. I’m still without any achievements.
I am shit. I am absolute fucking shit. I am falling apart and I have nowhere left to turn.
“How anyone lie to me! Sure, I might lie everytime a word leaves my mouth, but god forbid you do what I do! God forbid you be human, too!”
“Oh, look at me, pity me! Tell me I’m special and there’s something to live for and that everything will be all right or else I’ll kill myself! Boohoo!”
Don’t bother with me anymore. I’m sorry.
“Be assertive! Be confident! Stand up for yourself!”
Why do you always take things back once I say them? I’m just trying to do what you ask me to do. I understand that I probably did it wrong, but you were the one who told me to do it. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were lying.
Now you all hate me. Now you’re all conspiring against me and I don’t blame you.
I ruined that shit, though. “Oh look at me, I’m going to talk shit behind your back because I’m pathetic.” How dare I seek sympathy. I deserve to feel like shit.
My politesse will get me nowhere now.
Now I’ve been exposed as the shithole I am. I deserve to have the shit kicked out of me. Why won’t you fucking say something? Why won’t you tell me you hate me?! You had no problem doing it before! I can’t hate you now! I can’t say anything anymore! Beat the shit out of me if you care so goddamn much!
You never liked me. Here’s your chance to crucify me. Nobody will stop you now. In fact, you’ll be cheered on. It was not right of me to criticize you.
I accept the guilt. I just wish it would end at some point. Guess I’ll just add this to the wall of unforgivable mistakes I’ve made, right between hating my mother and that misinterpreted sentence. Just because I didn’t mean for it to happen doesn’t make me any less guilty. Guilt is objective.
It’s the one unchanging thing I will always be able to cling to like the needy, dependent ***** I am.
STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE TO BECOME MISERABLE (I did it, now so can you with a simple purchase of $9.99 plus s&h!)
Wake up to that annoying 80s station that you can hardly stand at four in the morning, but you know will be loud enough to wake you up after getting only two hours of sleep (assuming that you got to sleep last night).
Put on some coffee that you dont even like the taste of without a shit load of sugar, though you are too ashamed that someone will say something about you if you take any more goddamned sugar in that damned coffee.
Go to school so you can learn about something you either don’t care about or don’t want to care about, but have to if you want to get a job on this earth that you were forced into without consent.
Then, you ride home on the bus, hoping that you’ll be exhausted enough to fall asleep, and, assuming you reach the safe haven of sleep, the kids surrounding you on the bus won’t stick bugs in your mouth or hair like that one asshole who sat behind you in fourth through sixth grade before his house got condemned and he had to switch buses.
Walk down your driveway underneath the tree you used to think looked cool before you discovered nihilism and diminished any meaning that “cool tree” had.
Work on homework that will get thrown away as soon as it’s graded and handed back to you so you can “be prepared” for a test that will soon go through the same process.
Make supper so you can be criticized for not making something better, for not making it fast enough, and goddamn it! why aren’t the dishes done!
Eat two bites of the small amount food on your plate and throw away the rest because you’re not doing enough to constitute you needing food. Bonus points if you vomit, either accidentally or in purpose!
Take a shower and quietly hum tunes hardly softer than the noise of the water and vents because god forbid someone hear you and tell you not to do the one thing that brings you joy in the day.
Go to bed, ashamed and guilty of all the things you’ve done that day, like lied to the people closest to you and wasted food. Find yourself unable to sleep until two in the morning, leaving you to be devoured by your darkest thoughts until then.
That’s it, folks! All you have to do is follow these simple steps and, bam! you’ll turn into a miserable person just like me!
God, I’m so guilty. Today, I flipped out at a bunch of people for calling me smart. I shouted at them because they complimented me. What the fuck is wrong with me? It doesn’t matter if they’re wrong or right. I flipped my shit.
I am shit. Dog shit, specifically. My dogs are biting each other right now. I bit myself the other day. I bet you think I’m a crazy ass fucking psycho, and you’re probably right. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not fucking smart. I do so much bad shit. I’ve ruined my life. How the hell could anyone even dare call me intelligent? That’s a blatant fucking lie! Don’t fucking lie to yourself! Don’t fucking pretend like I’m fucking intelligent! I can’t even manage to fucking converse with somebody without flipping the fuck out at them!
What the hell is wrong with me?
What the fuck am I doing here? I feel like a fucking alien to all of these creatures around me. I don’t belong among them. I am not meant to be around them. I don’t understand them and they don’t understand me. I don’t deserve to live around them.
They couldn’t possibly want to live around a walking civil war. I am going to be the death of me because I’m not SMART enough to figure out how to live. I was a fuck up from the start. I should’ve killed myself. Then you wouldn’t be on this site reading this load of shit. You’d be reading somebody else’s pleas for help, somebody who is actually smart enough to take what you say and fix themself with it.
I hope I die. I hope I die. I hope I die.
That’s been my prayer for years now, seven to be exact. I’m a fucking mistake. I should be dead.
Instead, I’m just a living dumbass. What good is that doing for anyone?
You know, that verse in the Bible that Lincoln famously quoted/paraphrased is really getting to me. “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” I have been divided against myself since the beginning. Part of me is the one living, and the other part of me is harshly criticizing that part of me. I constantly feel guilty for everything I do, even if it ends up fairly well for everyone involved because it’s never enough. Nothing is ever enough to counter all of my wrongdoings, you know?
I am at once the bratty kid in the grocery store who was not allowed to get something and the mother who must discipline that child. I have no need for anyone else to do this for me; I’ve become quite self-reliant in this regard. And, in the case that my disciplinarian side does not succeed against my spoiled child side, I will die, and my inner civil war will cease. The child must grow up and take responsibility. Right now, I am losing. The parent needs to take control of the kid and beat it. It sounds harsh, but how else will the kid learn? I didn’t learn without severe discipline, and since I am now no longer recieving it, I have become miserable and unruly. Sometimes, parental abuse is justified. I know people reading this will say that it’s wrong, but I don’t care. I need to have the shit knocked out of me. It’s the only way to move on.
I don’t think I’d mind being beaten to death. I’m sure I could arrange that to happen soon enough. I hate not being disciplined. The only way you know someone cares is that they care enough to tell you the truth. The truth about me is that I’m an asshole and I don’t deserve to be alive. Maybe, that’s why I’m so close to my family and don’t care as much as I should about anyone else. They were the only ones who cared enough to tell me that.
They don’t seem to care anymore, though. No one does. Everyone keeps being nice, except it’s the kind of nice that you can clearly see is rooted in pity. Everyone knows I’m worthless. The only way for me to dig myself out of this hole is to be better. I think I’m going to have to turn back to self-discipline.
But part of me wonders if it would even be worth it. People who meet me these days are nice start to finish, and it’s so clearly because they know I’m pathetic, even without being around me for long. Am I that pitiful? I must be! Nobody in their right mind would be kind to me! I’m very clearly irrational! I’m a hypocrite! I’m a jerk! I’m an asshole! I’m a charlatan! I’m impolite! I’m nothing! I’m so clearly nothing! I don’t even try to hide it anymore, but nobody talks about it! I’m nothing desriable because I am nothing at all! How fucking worthless is that?! How fucking worthless do I have to be to sink this low?!
I feel like I’m missing something. Am I really this dumb that NO ONE has the balls to tell me that I’m a fuck up?! NO ONE is willing to tell me how much I’ve ruined their life?! What kind of fucking worthless human being am I?! I can’t be the kind of person who deserves to live! I can tell you that much, and I’m not even smart enough to fix myself!
AM I NOT EVEN WORTH HATING? AM I NOT EVEN WORTH BEATING? WHAT CHANGED THAT I AM NO LONGER WORTH IT? WHERE DID I GO WRONG? WHAT CAN I DO TO GET BETTER? CAN I GET BETTER?
I really must be pretty fucking worthless, you know? I wasn’t meant to live. I wasn’t supposed to be alive. I shouldn’t have happened. I was an accident, but my parents didn’t abort me; they saved me. But what did I do? I stabbed them in the back by being a worthless ****.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Oh my God. I really fucked up. I keep fucking up. It will be better for me to die. No. That’s an inconvenience, and a very showy one at that. I need to slip away and stay away. I could kill myself in the solitude. I deserve to be sent away, despised by everyone I love so dearly. I don’t deserve to love. I don’t deserve to make everything miserable.
Oh God. I just want to figure it out again. I need to be in pain. I need to be in severe physical pain.
I am a marriage that should not have happened. I am an abusive, idiotic wife and a miserable, alcoholic husband who should’ve gotten a divorce years ago. They’ve both been so dulled by the hell that is their seemingly inescapable marriage (“Gotta stay together for those accident kiddos, right?!”) that a soul-crushing depression is a state of normalcy for both of them. They have both become so miserable and corrupted that they can no longer experience happiness except in the fleeting pleasures that lie in the vices of each pathetic human. I cannot be happy until I am separated, but as we know, a house divided against itself cannot stand. So, the question now is whether they should be miserable separately or together. Is the house worth keeping standing or should it be torn down to provide at least a symbolic crushing of their misery?
Well, it doesn’t matter.
“I AM DROWNING. THERE IS NO SIGN OF LAND. YOU ARE COMING DOWN WITH ME, HAND IN UNLOVEABLE HAND! AND I HOPE YOU DIE! I HOPE WE BOTH DIE!”
-“No Children” by The Mountain Goats
Guess who’s back! You guessed it! It’s me, the local fuck up, back again to post something because I feel suicidal. “Oh look at me, aren’t I special?” You know, I bet a whole lot of you wish I would just fucking do it already. To be fair, I do too, so we’re on the same page.
You know, if I were to fucking kill myself right now, I could do it and my parents wouldn’t fucking notice, and that’s pretty cool. That means they trust me enough to leave me alone for a decent amount of time. That’s pretty cool of them. I don’t care what they did to me, they’re some cool people. Everyone makes their mistakes, you know? Everyone fucks up. I fuck up more than anyone, so I above all people should know this.
God, nobody fucking likes me. I’m such a hypocritical, whiny, pathetic ****. I’m a ***** and it’s bothering other people. Why won’t I just stop being alive? Why can’t I just somehow get some kind of disease that kills me slowly and painfully? I would deserve that.
Shit, man. My head is spinning. I feel like I’m being strangled, and I’m just locked in the bathroom alone. That’s the one feeling I can’t handle, strangulation. That puts me back to a couple of times where I was strangled by people I really hold dear. That was a wicked bummer, you know? When I was 10 years old, I would strangle myself using a bandana to remember these visions. It sounds insane, but that was the most peaceful I’ve ever felt, with those passed out visions. They weren’t fucked up like they are now.
Now everything is all fucked up because I had to “be the hero”. Did I actually think anyone would respect me for this? Did I actually hope someone would change a part of their attitude just because I thought I was special and asked them to? What kind of dumbass **** am I?
All my friends leave me, and I still act surprised. How could anyone stand to be around me when I am constantly so depressed? And even when I’m not depressed, I’m still fucked up. Who wants to be around that?
I need to fucking forgive and move on, but instead of being a nearly good person, I decide to be as shitty as possible.
I can’t do another year of school. I can’t do it. I know people will say, “Oh, you’ve made it this far; you should just keep on going!” Yeah, I wish it was like that. I wish that statement was helpful. I’m too afraid to be alive. The mere idea that I’m not even halfway through with life, not even a quarter through with life, makes vomit rise in my disgusting esophagus.
So, I know all of you people advocate the whole living thing or whatever, but like, being alive, man, it’s not worth it. If I have to feel like this another day, it’s not worth it. This isn’t living. This is getting by and maintaining what I have, and that’s what life is about. It’s not about these great things I want to do; it’s about getting through another day. But what does that day signify? Congrats! You’ve suffered another day without figuring a way out of it! Can we get a round of fucking applause for our genius over here?
I know that people will be sad for awhile because it will make them think and realize that they should treasure those they love. That’d be cool, if people just fucking used my waste of life as something beneficial. That would be useful, worth something. My family is in a pot where they don’t really need me anymore. My friends, or what is left of them, are all doing decenr enough. Sure, some people will be sad for a bit, but they know as well as I do that I’d just fuck up life for everyone around me anyway.
I am the epicenter of your problems, and I am a narcissist. Do not forgive me. I do not deserve it.
So much for trying to be assertive. I just made things worse. He won’t listen because he knows that I am the problem; he knows I know I am the problem. I just wanted to make things better for everyone. I just wanted to help make some people’s lives less miserable and I fucked up and ruined his instead.
I have to see him EVERY FUCKING DAY. I fucking stood up to him, to his condescension, because it drove me fucking insane and it hurt those that I care about very dearly. But you know what? I STILL FUCKED UP. I STILL FUCKING RUINED EVERYTHING.
I criticized him for putting people down, and even in my best attempts to make it kind, I did the same to him. Now he feels bad like I did all because I had to “BE ASSERTIVE” and “BE CONFIDENT”.
You know, he and an old friend completely demolished my view of myself, and I listened to them and forgave them for being harsh. BUT HE IS NOT ME! I did much worse than he did, and I deserved the comments I recieved. WHY AM I PRETENDING LIKE I TOOK THE FUCKING HIGH ROAD? I RUINED WHAT WAS LEFT OF OUR FRIENDSHIP, AND NOW HE HATES ME!
I figured I’d try out being more brave, being assertive, and sticking up for myself, but what’s the point? It just makes me and everyone around me feel like shit! I should have just left things alone! Why can’t I ever let things be? Why can’t I let things go? Why am I so fucking sensitive?
And you know, I think if I was meant to be on this planet, I’d be able to live like everyone else. I’d be able to handle my problems like a normal human. I’d be able to have friends. But NO, God forbid I learn how to deal with those who put me down. You know, normal people can fucking deal with this without wanting to end their own life. Normal people can fucking breathe without fearing that they’re going suffocate on that next desparate gasp for air.
But not me. Not me. Because we all know that I was not meant to be here. I was an accident from the beginning. I should have died in the womb. It would have been easier for everyone if I had. No one would have to deal with an overdramatic drama queen piece of shit, then. But no, I had to go ruin everything by fucking around. I mean, if I was going to have to be alive, I should’ve at least learned to be less of a dick. AND I USED TO THINK HE WAS A NARCISSIST.
What a fucking *****! God, I fucking hate myself. I should know by now that everything I am advised to do is a lie. Everything they tell me is a lie. I knew that, but I still fucking believed them! How much of a fucking dumbass am I?
I can fix all of this by dying. I can show everyone that suicide is not the answer by doing it myself. I can end it all right now and finally benefit those around me instead of being a WORTHLESS, SELFISH **** for once in my GODDAMNED MISERABLE LIFE.
SO, to myself, the biggest condescending, narcissistic dick face out there:
FUCK YOU. KILL YOURSELF.
So, to the last person I expect to read this, if you’ve stumbled across this, this wasn’t your fault. It was mine. But you already knew that, didn’t you?