Tomorrow, my boyfriend leaves for college. I don’t know if I can handle it. I figured out how to beat depression by myself just so I could date him. If it wasn’t for him, I would definitely be dead right now. But, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle him not being here. I don’t want to relapse, it’s been 9 months. I feel pathetic, feeling like I could fall apart over a boy. I feel pathetic, feeling like I could fall apart over a boy who’s only moving 45 minutes away.
What are the ethics of suddenly making out with Person X, when you were invited a few hours before to Person Y’s house, who may or may not have wanted to have sex with you, and who you like, and who may or may not like you back, and who you are trying to enter a relationship, and when Person X is also trying to enter a relationship, and is the best friend of your ex, who is probably over you but might not be? I know it’s very long-winded, but it’s been plaguing me for the last 24 hours.
I know this site is for people who want to kill themselves, and I know many of you would look at me in disgust, but I want to kill my father, and then kill myself. I hate my father beyond words. He is supposed to protect me, shelter me, and teach me how to be an adult. Instead, he attacks me verbally and financially every chance he get. Any attempt to fight back only makes it worse, because he’s a master manipulator and constantly works to make my entire family hate me, which they’re so close to doing. He can shit on my face and get away with it. I’m so powerless against him, and it frustrates me to no end. I hate him, I want to kill him, I want to hurt him like he hurts me, and I want to die. I know that I can’t kill him, but I’m afraid of the day he pushes me too far. I’m insane, I know. I can’t let anyone know, so unless I finally snap, I will take these desires to the grave, hopefully soon.
Is it possible to actually die of boredom? I’m desperately hoping so. For the past few months, it’s been just so boring. School is a waste of time. I get all A’s, a B, and a C. I spend the day learning useless factoids that will never be necessary in later life, and then maybe go home and play music, and then just watch TV and eat ice cream before going to bed. Then, the game begins again. The weekends are just a continuation of my after-school activity, and they’re boring too because I remember that school is a day or so away. I have no friends. Sure, I talk to people casually, but I don’t connect with anyone. I guess people think they connect with me, but no one just gets it. It’s just all so meaningless and pointless. At this point, death would be a welcome gift.
I’ve found a recurring theme in myself and other depressed/suicidal people, which I’ve found extremely interesting. You want people close to you, but at the same time, you want them as far away as possible. When I sit alone at lunch, I keep looking at my friends, silently willing them to come over, but at the same time, feeling happy that they stay away. I keep looking at my phone, desperately hoping for a text, glad that it never comes. I want my friends to help me, but then I remember that none of them can. I don’t know, I just think it’s curious.
The people on this site are really nice, but when you have a problem, that when you tell someone, no matter how nice they are, they will judge you in disgust and hate you, what do you do? If someone found out, I’d be immediately hospitalized and possibly arrested. I am so scared of being hospitalized again. I was hospitalized once a couple years ago from midnight to 4:30 AM. Worst few hours of my life. Also, I wouldn’t want my family to get upset over this, because I’d just be the family problem again, and if they knew, they’d hate me too. It’s not just the terrible depression anymore. It’s this too. I think I have it under control, but I don’t know for sure. I’m just so tired of keeping everything in, sitting alone at lunch, deliberately not talking to my friends, just so no one finds out I want to die, and finds out my problem. I just want to get out of this nightmare.
I remember last December 26. My grandfather’s birthday is the 27th, so we were driving down to Pittsburgh to see him. I was texting this girl I liked, when out of the blue, she told me that our middle school art teacher’s wife had just found him hanging in his art studio. I immediately got my mom to turn around the car and go home. A year later, I still can’t believe he’s gone. He was the most wonderful man I ever had the privilege to know. I remember how, on the first day of class each year, he would do magic tricks for us. He would even balance a stool on his chin, I swear. He used to always “whistle through his ears”. My gullible 6th-grade mind thought it was the greatest thing ever, but at the end of 7th grade, after months of asking him how he did it, he said it took 3 things: the ability to wiggle your ears, the ability to whistle without moving your mouth, and the ability to lie to a room full of children. He was so funny. He always had the best one-liners. I suck so bad at art, but he’d always look at what I drew like it was the next Mona Lisa. At the end of 6th grade, we got all of our artwork back. I made a beeline for the trash can, but he blocked me and made me keep it. When we left class, I tossed it in the nearest can. I hate myself for that now. He was just so nice, so cool, so smart. They held a memorial service at the middle school. His two kids, one a toddler and one kindergarten-age, were running around the place. They didn’t even get what was happening. His friends and family all shared stories about him. The last guy to go up was one of his teacher buddies and my old homeroom teacher. I’ll never forget what he said. “Teachers, a lot of kids don’t like to go to school. Big surprise. But they need us more than ever. I’ve seen a lot of kids wandering the streets at night in his neighborhood, passing his house. Middle school is a scary and confusing place. They used to have someone who could help them and guide them through all that. But now he’s gone.” RIP. You are definitely missed.
I don’t even know why I’m writing this. It’s my mind loop. These thoughts just run over and over again every day. I’m alone. I’m so alone. I have no one I can really talk to, and the people I do talk to I do because I don’t want anyone to suspect anything’s wrong. I stopped contact with all of my friends in September, so they didn’t have to deal with me anymore. Every day, I see all of them having the perfect life, and I want to go talk to them SO BADLY, but then I remember, they’re only having that perfect life because I’m not there, but then again, that might be giving me too much credit. I hate school. Everyone says that, because it’s long, or boring, or hard, but I actually HATE school. It’s pointless. 8 hours a day, to go to sleep, and go back for 8 hours a day, and then two days before the cycle starts all over again. That’s what work will be like in 10 years. And then when we’re done working, we’ll be too old to really live. I can’t live in that cycle. The war with my dad isn’t going well. I know any week now, he’s going to do something that’ll make me angry, and I’ll explode at him over text or e-mail, which he’ll forward to everyone in our family, who will get one step closer to hating me. I wish he would die. Aren’t I a fucking bundle of fun? I hate this sadness. I hate feeling like this even when good stuff happens. I hate not being able to talk to anyone. I hate not being able to make my dad stop. I hate not being able to break free of this cycle. I hate not being able to kill myself, because the only method available is a knife, which I’m too mentally weak to use. I hate not being able to get help, because it’ll make me be the problem for everyone for the umpteenth time. I hate being trapped. I hate this.
there’s a different kind of tired
not the kind when you haven’t slept
or you’ve run two miles
or you haven’t eaten in hours
it’s the kind you can feel
behind your eyes
when you’ve just had enough of being knocked down by it all
and the only cure is sleep
but not even that cures
because you know when you wake
you’ll be tired all over again
so you just drift through everything
I guess I don’t really know why I don’t have any friends, because I’ve told myself the same thing over and over again so that I believe that, instead of what’s probably true. I never tried to figure it out because it would be pointless, as I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I started posting here simply so that I could finally say what I needed to. I’ve always told myself I don’t want friends. I do. It hurts to admit it, but I do. I used to have friends, but for the past few months, I just stopped. I didn’t want my problems to be a bother to anyone like it used to be. Confiding in them always brought them a degree of anguish, as would anyone. It’s also easier to kill yourself when you’re alone and friendless, in my opinion. I guess it’s not just that either. Even when I had friends, I always felt like a third wheel, like I never fit in, like it was an inconvenience to have me there. It’s not that my friends were mean, they truly are amazing people, I just don’t fit in with anyone. i would rather be eating ice cream and watching Doctor Who on a Saturday night instead of going out because I have no friends, rather than eating ice cream and watching Doctor Who on a Saturday night instead of going out because my friends don’t want me along. I can’t ever trust anyone. Anything I tell anyone gets passed on to someone else. Yes, it does hurt to be friendless, but I guess I prefer it to before…
If one lives for the incredibly small things in life, does that make them pathetic? That has been a big question on my mind lately. I feel like my life is futile and meaningless. The only thing I look forward to daily is my night ritual. I scoop myself about a pint of chocolate ice cream, preferably Breyer’s or Edy’s, squirt a generous amount of Hershey’s chocolate syrup on top, and then park myself in front of the TV for the rest of the night to watch Arrow, Doctor Who, and other such shows. I know eventually, that’s going to catch up with me physically, but I really don’t care what happens to me at this point. I guess it’s nice that I have something to look forward to every day, but I feel so pathetic, that ice cream and television are all I have to look forward to in life…
I’m on this site just to put down what’s in my head, because I can never say it out loud. So, I’m probably going to sound really stupid, but whatever. My mom’s really been getting on me about grades lately. I’m an A student, but currently have a B in chemistry and a C in trig, which is a level above my grade. I know she’s just trying to be a good parent, but I just don’t get why it matters. Why does it matter if I have a B and a C? Why would it matter if that prevents me from getting into some Ivy League school? i’m still going through the same life cycle as everyone else. I think that’s one of the reasons I want to die. Life is so pointless. You get 5 years of fun playing time or whatever, and then you go to school, and then you go to college, and then you get a job, and then you work 50 years, and then you retire, when you’re too old to do anything, and then you just die. That frustrates the hell out of me. I know I have to go through that cycle, but I HATE it. Anything we do is pointless, because we’re just “another brick in the wall”. We’re just one person going through the motions like everyone else. When I used to tell people how much I wanted to kill myself, they would tell me that there’s so much to live for. Is there really? I shouldn’t kill myself just to go to school to learn how to sit in some cubicle typing away 40 hours a week for years and years? There has to be some other way. If I can’t find it, well…
My name is Zach, I’m 15 years old, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to kill myself, because I lost count. I know that what I’ve been through is nothing compared to what others have been through, but I feel that doesn’t make it any less valid or painful. My parents got separated Christmas of 2010. Before you explode with the injustice of that date, don’t worry, I’m not Christian, so it wasn’t THAT bad. However, it was the first time something actually went wrong for me. A year passed, and I didn’t really get over it. I started thinking about suicide. I forget all the different methods I used, all the different times. I just remember thinking the same thoughts each time. Now, I usually give it a try every two months or so. Same results. My uncle killed himself June 6, 2012. The week after, my dad told me that he was a drug addict his entire life. My uncle would always play with me when I was little, as his wife told me later, and I used him as my personal jungle gym, by climbing all over him, but he never said a word, because he loved me to death, so to speak. To provide the next part with some context, I have never had that close relationships with guys, only girls. So, when I was in middle school, during this time, I was friends with a group of girls, because I’m a pretty awkward kid. I talked to them about this stuff, and every few months, when they got too freaked out, they would tell my guidance counselor, and I would make something up about how I just said all that stuff for attention. Eventually, I got a therapist, but I would never talk to him, because I didn’t want to know what would happen if i told him the extent of my thoughts. When he was hired, sometimes my friends would call him too. Eventually, I just felt like I was a burden to everyone, and I should just shut up. Things really got bad last year, though. I started to have a lot of problems with my dad. My dad is one of the best lawyers in the country. However, he doesn’t know when to turn it off. He always has to be right, and always has to argue, and doesn’t know the first thing about communication. The arguing went on for a year until May, when I decided I wouldn’t be talking to him anymore. He then went out of his way to make my life as miserable as he could, by taking things away from me, and turning my entire family against me. His mother doesn’t talk to me anymore because of this, and she has Alzheimer’s, so who knows what she’ll think of me in a few months. I just feel like I’m a bother, and no one should have to deal with me. I’m a sophomore now, and started the year not talking to any of my friends, so when I finally find a way to die, minimum damage is inflicted. I don’t care if anyone comments on this or even reads this. It just feels good to put down in writing what has been playing on loop in my mind for years.