My family visted me for Thanksgiving. One thing that stuck out to me is a brief conversation on whether or not I waould get married some day. I shruged it off and said if it happens it happens. But this was one of the first times I saw my Mother worried about it. She said she wants ne to put myself out there and find a “companion”. Usually she never seemed bothered or interested in the fact I was alone. I played it off like I didn’t care, but obviously this is one of the things that keeps me up at night. I hate being alone and I hate not being alone. Of course dying would probably fix all of this, but what is another way to fix this. I feel very isolated. I’ve always felt isolated. I have friends online. I talk to people. I don’t leave my house that often however. I don’t understand what I am. I don’t know why I am. Often I find it easier to close my eyes and just sleep. Sleep so I’m not here. I am genuinely curious if I can find a mirror. A reflection that is as interested in me as I am in them. Something or someone who looks at me with the same level of curiosity that I do them. A sort of half. My ears are doing that wooshing thing now. Where you hear the blood flow through your ear canal.
I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to want. I don’t know what my purpose is. I don’t know why I should be alive. I am 22. I am going to University for engineering. I am working on my senior project. I’m not particularly good at it. I don’t really know what I’m doing. The only really good thing I know to do is get people who knows what they are doing. That’s honestly the only thing that I’m good at. Bullshitting. I don’t know where am I going. I am applying for Graduate School. I am way out of my depth. I’m scared to go get a job. I don’t think I’ll be good at it. I’m afraid of screwing up in graduate school. I don’t think I’ll be good at it. I should change myself, but I don’t. I should try harder, but I don’t. I think I want an easy life, but I don’t know what that means. I am ashamed that I want an easy life. I think I try to find my meaning in another person, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think there is a person out there who will show me what my life is supposed to be or give it meaning or anything like that. Maybe that’s why I’m not really great at making friends or figuring out relationships. I’ve never been in a relationship. So I don’t really know what it means to have a person like that. I’m sure it’s nothing like I think it is. I just feel like I’m tumbling through nothingness. I feel a sense of urgency that I don’t know what’s going on, but feel at ease because in my head I rationalize it that I have time since I’m only 22. I am in this weird middle space where I don’t know what I am, but I feel like I should by now. I don’t know anything.
It’s kind of boring talking about it over and over and over again. About being alone and not being able to make any sort of meaningful connection with others. I’m bored talking about it. I’m bored thinking about it. It’s boring. Being alone and being with others doesn’t really matter. It’s pointless to think about or worry. Who cares? People aren’t interesting. Listening to them isn’t interesting. Talking to them isn’t interesting. Hearing whatever inane thoughts they think and telling them about my inane thoughts is pointless. Why should I care? About anything? Nothing really matters. Dying alone or with someone doesn’t matter. Thinking about it, I’d rather die alone. You could make it interesting if you do. Some sort of spectacle just for you. Make it a game. Something. A lot more interesting than just keeling over and closing your eyes. I wish I wasn’t fickle and kept this attitude.
Fall is here again. I’ve said it before, but this season along with winter always feels like everything is dead. It feels like everything around you is decaying and frozen over. I can’t say that I’m a fan of spring or summer either, but there’s something even worse about the fall. My senior project isn’t going well. It just started and I already feel like there’s no control. I’m the project manager and I have no idea why I agreed to that. This failure will be on me like always. I haven’t talked to my friend in some time. The one who I would call every Friday. He really helped me get through that summer. I understand though. He’s working 9 days straight now with a single day off in between. I know that I can’t depend on someone to come help me every time I fall down, but the feeling of being on my own still somehow hurts me. I don’t have many friends. I do speak to some guys online and we play games, but I have this weird feeling about them. Like it would be rude to be a bummer around a group of guys who are always laughing and joking around. To their credit they do say that they’re there if I ever need them. And I have talked about bummer things before, not too bummer mind you. Although I feel that I’m not close enough to be like that around them. I also reconnected with her again after all this time. We started talking again normally, but I still feel as if we are still complete strangers to each other. I think it’s fair to say that I built up this idea of her in my head and feel some what lost when I compare reality to fiction. It’s not fair to her and it’s something that is my own fault. I had this idea that in a perfect world she would be there for me and I’d be able to tell her all the things in my head. But when it comes to speaking what’s on my mind, I feel like we are strangers and there is no real point in telling her anything. Even thought I have spent so much time texting her and messaging her all the inane thoughts in my head that should probably just keep there. I think I am of two minds. One mind wants to open up and have someone close and the other feels like there is no point to it and being alone is safer. I think that’s why I always come back here. It’s a way to process all the stuff in my head without really needing anyone. I’ve been real good with my medicine up until a few weeks ago. I need to keep at it, or I’ll just fall apart.
This past Thursday was my first session with my new counselor. She must be the sixth counselor I’ve had in my life. I’ve always gone off and on and off and on therapy for god knows how long. The reason changing over time. But it always ended the same. I never felt like it was worth it. But I don’t think I ever really tried. This time I might as well give it a shot. Overall it was a productive first session. I was able to communicate well throughout and she gave me some stuff to do before the next session. This past week wasn’t so awful. Although I did my best to stay out of sight of everyone and waste time doing nothing. I’m essentially robbing these people of 9.50 an hour. Although I’m probably not as sneaky as I think I am. They probably know I spend my time doing fuck all, but they’re probably too busy or too disinterested to tell me anything. I should really try harder this week. I was fortunate to be given this job so the least I could do is try to make myself useful. This Friday marks half a year. I haven’t heard a single word from her in half a year. Any rational person would say she’s gone and that she’s not coming back. Whether she’s in such a bad place she can’t talk to me, she hates me, or she just plain forgot about me, I’ll likely never hear from her again. Yet I still send her a message every few weeks. Just to let her know that I’m still here if she ever feels like talking again. That’s probably all I can do. I will say though that I’m not as sad about it anymore. Sure it still hurts a bit to think about how I don’t know how she’s doing. If she’s ok or not. But I think I’ve accepted that I just won’t ever see her again. She still means a lot to me, but at the end of the day, people just kind of drop out of your life sometimes. There have been plenty of people who I’ve said goodbye to and never see again. I just kind of wished that I could have had a proper goodbye at least. That’s how life goes though. If things go they way I want then I’m half way there. If not, then I have 7 more weeks of this fucking job. Either way this summer is going to be a fucking headache.
I am 1/3 through. If this was a marathon, I would be limping. My chest hurts, most of the time my stomach hurts, and my sleep is inconsistent. The medication’s side effects are taking their toll. They make me nauseous, which doesn’t help my anxiety. My anxiety already makes me want to throw up. The sleep problem happened before I started taking my medication, but I think it’s also screwing it up. I just started taking the full dosage this past friday. My doctor told me to talk only half the first week due to being off of it for so long. Logically, that means that the side effects should be worse. Then again, I know nothing about medicine. This past week was hell, and it was a 4 day week. Days kind of lose their meaning in terms of the number. I stop thinking it of June the 6th, but as the day before I have to hold my breath. Wednesday becomes the half way point. June becomes week 4,5,6,7 and part of 8. I think of things in terms of how many hours I have left. It just kind of loses its meaning after a while. I did go bowling yesterday. That hour or so was the first time my Anxiety was completely shut out in almost a month. I just bowled. Even on the weekend and the evenings, I just think about how many hours I have left. My health is taking a dip. My mom said I look like I lost weight. That’s not really good. I feel like my heart is coming out of my chest. Sometimes I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears during the night. I’m thinking of shortening it from 12 weeks to 10. I just don’t see how making me health even worse for an extra 2 weeks of nothing is advantageous. It will end. It feels like an eternity, but eventually this will end.
I’m on my lunch break. I can feel myself breaking down little by little. My job is simple. Really really really simple. But for some reason it’s hard for me. I’m broken. My stomach hurts. I can’t eat. I think my medicine is also making me drowsy. Nothing is right. I can’t do this. I’m broken and I can’t do this. 9 hours of hell 5 days a week. I can’t make it. I just don’t know what to do.
I had off today for Memorial Day. It was nice to have a 3 day weekend before having to put my head under the water again this week. That’s what this job feels like. Holding your breath under water. And those little moments when I’m not at work is like coming up for air and gasping only to have my head pushed under again. I just need to make it to August. I keep saying that, but you know. I finally got my medication again. Since I’ve been off these medication for a long time I was told to take only half the dosage for the first week. This kind of made me wonder how long it even takes to work. For prozac it apparently takes 4 to 6 weeks to feel the full effects. Since I’ve never been really good at keeping up with it, it’s possible I’ve never really seen the full benefits of it. I want to change this. However, it does say you will feel some of the effects for the 1st – 2nd week. It kind of sucks that I’ll still have to deal with all the mental stress for most of my internship. The last two days of last week was not horrible, but still had their moments of awfulness. I just need to hold on. I think what bums me out the most out of all this is that it’s not hard. What I am told to do is extremely simple. But for some reason it’s hard for me. No normal person would be struggling like I am. If anything, they would do better. So how am I supposed to make it out when things get real hard. How am I supposed to live the rest of my life with a career like this. I don’t know if I even like engineering that much. But I’ve set myself up for 5 years of college for this. Technically more since my high school was engineering focused. I’ve spent a lot of my time on this, so just to throw it all away is scary. It’s like I’m too afraid to do anything else, but I’m too afraid of what I’m doing now. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. On a happy note I’ve started to have weekly calls with an old friend of mine. He also works in a production plant, but in another state and during the night shift. He has Fridays and Saturdays off usually, so on Friday nights before I go to bed and when he wakes up we have a nice hour long or so talk about whatever. It’s usually me talking about how I feel about this whole thing and him being nice and listening. But we also talk about whatever like what we are watching or if we know what certain people are up to from highschool. I think it’s important for me to have something to look forward to every week. My last internship I found a local comic book shop that would have Friday Night Magic with a handful of people. I was never any good at it, but it was just fun to sit down and play with people. They were a real odd group. One guy was in his 50s and had kids that had already grown up, but he was the nicest dude to talk to. Once the internship was over, I had to say goodbye, and I haven’t talked to them since. I’ve tried going to other comic shops to play, but all the other ones had dozen of people and I always feel intimated by the large crowds. The one before had maybe 5 regulars who showed up every week and were on first name basis. Well, I think that’s all I want to talk about right now.
I’m finding out that I can’t really speak when I want to. I am fortunate to have decent parents. They are not perfect by any means, and when it come to my problems, they have stumbled in areas. But at the end of the day I know they care. So I thought about trying to talk about my problems a bit. Nothing too in detail. Just that I really need this medication and therapy or I might not make it through the summer without some sort of small breakdown. But I couldn’t even say that. I couldn’t say anything. I did mention that I’m having trouble sleeping. But I couldn’t say anything else. I physically couldn’t. Every time I try to go to my mother with problems, I always end up breaking down. I don’t want to though. I don’t want to be a mess in front of others. But I also just want to be able to say something. To be able to speak. But my body is holding back so as not to cry but my mind isn’t strong enough to be able to just say something. I can’t get that balance of being able to at least vocalize my problems and not get overly emotional. I can’t seem to make myself cry by myself to let out some head pressure either. I can maybe manage a few tears, but not that really broken down crying that makes you feel a bit light headed at the end. I have 2 more days of work. I think the other people are starting to get annoyed. I haven’t even been employed 3 weeks yet. I have to make it to August. I can’t make it. What will happen when I really need to grow up and get a long term job? I think I’m broken. Like you wouldn’t use a bent nail to build something. You wouldn’t use a cracked monitor to do work on. So I think I’m not meant to be around. I realize that I don’t want to be suicidal anymore. I can’t seem to help the thoughts of wanting to die. I just don’t know what to do. I have an appointment tomorrow to renew my prescription. I don’t know if the medication will help at this point but I’m desperate. June is almost here. I need to drag myself to August. Time always marches on, but the issue is always in the moment. The problem always seems horrible in the moment. And when you are not in the moment, you are waiting for the moment. My last internship feels long ago and I don’t feel much about it. I do feel a bit ashamed, but in that moment I remember feeling fear. It’s vague, but I do remember feeling fear. So in a few months this whole ordeal will only bring feelings of shame, but in this moment I feel fear. The real issue is the perspective. Time moves at a constant rate no matter what you are doing. A second is measured the same way it is now as it was 100 years ago. But it’s the human perspective that really cripples me. A 9 hour day was ok to me a month ago but a 9 hour day this week feels like agony. Agony because in those 9 hours I have anxiety attacks, suicidal thoughts, and other horrible things. A month ago I set things at my own pace. The whole day wasn’t a nightmare like it is now. I don’t know. All I know is that in an hour or so I will try to go to bed, wake up 3-4 times tonight, wake up, dread waiting until I make it to work. I will then tell myself that I can make it through the day, but I know that I will just have more panic attacks and such. My mind is already telling me that if I just have five seconds of bravery, then I can end it all. Just five seconds and all the problems will go away and I can become nothing. I don’t know.
I don’t even really know what to say anymore. I went into work this morning thinking “You got through the day last Monday, you can get through today. You got through last week, you can get through this week” Today felt longer than any day last week. In the morning I knew I had a task and I did it, but I felt like I screwed it up as usual. I just don’t have any confidence in anything I do. When they ask a question, I panic and have no idea if what I’m saying is right. I have no idea what I’m doing. I think the worst thing about it is the constant anxiety of being around other people. I have this fear that someone is going to come up to me and say “What are you doing here? You’re in the way. You’re not supposed to be here.” I know I’m not important enough to bother saying anything to, but every time anyone looks in my direction or is walking towards me, I have a heart attack. Today about 3 people came up to me and talked to me asking what I was doing. Not in the way I was mentioning, but just as an innocent way. I mean it was fair. After all I was just standing there observing the production process and taking the time, like I was asked to. It was probably uncomfortable for me to be just standing there just watching the production workers. Whenever they look my way I just think “Man I’m sorry. I really wish I wasn’t hovering off to the side staring at you either. If I could be invisible and not bother you, I’d do it.” I don’t know. During the day I think to myself, I should really try to cry and let it out when I get home. When things pool up in my head and writing doesn’t help (it never really does), I try and find time to be by myself and cry. Just to get it out. To let the pressure leak out safely. But I can’t seem to get it out. I think my head’s broken. On a side note I got on a waiting list for a therapist. In 2 or 3 weeks I should start. I’m going to look for other counselors to see if I can find one that can take me immediately, but the one for the waiting list takes my insurance and the appointments are on the weekends or late evenings. I don’t know if I’ll make it through this. And the thing is it wasn’t even that hard. A lot more people have worse things to deal with. I just don’t know man. It also pisses me off that the stress is giving me light insomnia. I wake up four to five times a night because I was dreaming of work and my mind just rejects it and wakes up. I hate it so much. I’m tired.
You can’t really have both at once. When you are depressed nothing matters to you and everything is pointless. When you are anxious everything matters and it’s all so big and important. Yesterday wasn’t so bad at work. In the morning I felt horrible anxious and I felt like talking to anyone was this big ordeal. Whenever the managers were talking and saying “Well he saw this” or “He said such and such” and pointed at me when talking about the results I found from the task they asked me to do, I felt awful. I thought “why is anyone asking me for anything? Why are decisions going to be made because of what I did? Why am I in charge of anything?”. Anxiety attack after anxiety attack. The first four hours felt longer than they’ve every been. Then after lunch, I was just asked to do pointless busy work. Laminating a bunch of stuff, sorting screws and bolts, etc. I was glad to be doing things that felt like I couldn’t screw up, but then depressed that this is all I would be really capable of. “This is all you will every amount to. They realized you’re a screw up and won’t ask you to do anything else” It was crazy how night and day it felt. I kind of stopped caring about being there. I wasn’t really nervous or bothered by talking to anyone. Nothing mattered. I noticed it in the tenor of my voice. When I’m anxious my voice is higher and softer than normal. I notice it when I talk and I seem to do it involuntarily. But then I talked normally. I just found it very odd is all. I mean it was nice to be taking a break from the horrible anxiety attacks, so it was nice. But the depression was still a bit of a bummer. That shift between horrible anxiety attacks to depression was just bizarre is all.
I’m in the middle of an anxiety attack. I have exactly 11 hours and 23 minutes until I need to be at my job. It shouldn’t be this hard for a regular person. It should be fine. But I am broken. I am not well. I’m thinking about trying therapy again. I’ve been in and out of therapy god knows how many times. It doesn’t work. Because I don’t put the work in. I think though if I offer to pay this time, maybe my parents will be more receptive. I don’t want to ask my parents. I don’t want to break down in front of them again. I do this every couple of months or so. I don’t want to break down again. But I don’t know what to do. I still don’t have my medicine. I should call to get my prescription, but I feel the need to spend every second of my lunch break trying to relax and calm myself down before it’s back to work. I’m even thinking about maybe checking into behavioral center. I know for a fact though the only reason why I’m considering this is because in the back of my mind this is just another way of running away. When I’m in the center, I’m not at work and I don’t have to deal with this. I tried this shit once in my Senior Year to get out of presenting for this big project, but of course my psychiatrist saw right through that shit. At the time I definitely bought my own bullshit, but now I have to grow up and realize what I’m doing. I have to stare it down, no matter how scary it is. This past Tuesday and Wednesday I actually felt not worthless and felt like I was contributing something, even if it was small. Today felt awful though. I just felt like I was in the way and not doing anything meaningful. If anything I felt like I was saying and making all the wrong decisions. I can feel my manager slowly realizing how worthless I am. I asked if there was anything else I needed to do before leaving today and she just smiled and said no there was nothing. I can feel the fakeness of it all. The feeling of “just go already” coming off her. It’s no good. I’m no good. I was pacing in my room a little while ago looking at the clock. I go to bed in an hour. I haven’t been sleeping well. I wake up and toss and turn and then go back to bed. I wake up 30 minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off and just lay there waiting to drag myself to work and have more anxiety attacks there. I’m drowning and I don’t know what to do. For years I’ve begged and pleaded with myself to try and be better, to try and fix myself, but I can’t. I’m broken and I can’t be fixed and I just need to be thrown away. I’m starting to find that writing down my thoughts doesn’t help. It just helps catalogue all my horrible nightmares so I can reference back to them and slightly feel the hurt, pained feelings. I always wonder if the people who do really go through with the act and kill themselves find themselves happy where they are. If there is an afterlife and they are satisfied with their decision or if there is just nothingness and their consciousness just dissipates and there is nothing left. I don’t know.
I’ve talked about not being proud. I’ve talked about feeling like a worthless failure. I’ve talked about not being able tp measure up to the tasks given to me. The thing is I don’t want to be successful. I don’t want to be proud. I just want to be ok. I just want to look at myself in the mirror and feel no particular way. I need to be ok.
The weekend is over. Tomorrow is Monday. I notice that ever since taking this job, I have been acutely aware of time. Tomorrow starts five days. In about 9 hours I will wake up. At 8 am, it will be 9 hours then I will go home. It will take 4 hours before I can have my lunch break. Then I have 1 hour to try and keep myself together. Then I have 4 more hours to really start panicking. In 24 hours I will be in my bed again having a small anxiety attack about the next day like I am right now. Once Friday comes I will have a little more than 48 hours that I can spend trying to calm myself down. I have a little more than 3 months where I will repeat this process. I look at the clock a lot when I’m at work. I like breaking down the time into small chunks. An example would be if I have 36 minutes left in the hour, I rationalize it as 6 groups of 6 minutes. When it is 25 minutes left I say 5 groups of 5 minutes. Once 3 hours has passed in a day I think that I have 2 more of those 3 hours increments then I can go home. I can’t help but think that once I get home I have a little more than 14 hours before I repeat the process. I don’t remember doing this with my last job. I looked at the clock to see when I can go home, but I didn’t obsess over time. I think I had small things to look forward to. I remember every Friday I used to head over to this comic book shop to play MTG with a few strangers. It was really nice and I liked those guys. Friday was a very special day for me. Now I have nothing. I come home and lay in my bed counting down the hours before I have to go back in. It’s like going back up for air and then immediately diving back down. I’m trying to think of the exact moment in time where things went wrong. That exact point in time where I was happy and then I wasn’t. That exact point in my life where I started to have depression and anxiety and thoughts of suicide and all this other stuff. My earliest time I can think of where things started going down hill, ironically enough, was when I really thought about death. I was in 5th grade I think. Then I started to be afraid of everything. Slowly my reasons of being afraid and depressed evolved over time, but that point was where I started to unravel.
I’m trying to think of a time where I was proud to be me. Where I was glad to be me. I can’t think of any. I think for brief moments in my life I was proud of certain things. But I think about it and all seems so superficial and meaningless. I have very few skills to be proud of. Very few accomplishments that I can think of. I’m only really good at getting good grades. But even then I feel like I got it trough luck and because I got things handed to me. I never felt like I earned what I have. Even then, I’m still not very booksmart. I got the grades through seeing loopholes and cramming. All the information more or less leaves my head afterwards. I’ve never done anything outside of class that can be called noteworthy. I think the only thing that I’ve ever been considered “good at” is my part time jobs working as a delivery driver or as a cashier. My degree I’m working towards doesn’t seem earned. The internships felt like they were given to me, not earned. I am not proud. I do not like being me. I can’t remember the last time I liked being me.
To that one guy who bothers to comment on my posts, what’s up with you? Why do you bother leaving a comment. I don’t really read the posts you write on the site. I skim them sometimes. I’m sorry about that. I know you probably have your own troubles, so I feel bad that I don’t give you the same courtesey of listening to them. I feel like nothing I write seems worthy or reading, so why do you read them? I mean I appreciate it and all, but it just seems odd.
My head is all stuffed up. I’ve been here more than I’d like to. But no matter how much I write my thoughts down, my head is still all stuffed up. Today was my first day of work. I felt worthless as usual. I walked around following some guy I was supposed to be shadowing not knowing what to do. Everyone I passed by was looking at me. I didn’t like it. Already on my first day I felt like I was going to screw it up. There’s a thing on my shoulder that whispers in my ear and makes me afraid and paranoid. I feel like nothing I do will ever be good. It makes me sick to my stomach. I have the rest of summer to do this. I haven’t been medicated in so long. I didn’t want to be medicated. Now I’m scared and desperate and if this is the thing that would make me close to normal, I feel like taking it. I hate being medicated because I hate the idea that this thing is supposed to fix me. I know that’s not how it works, but the way people around me act, it’s supposed to. That made me so bitter and resentful of the idea on being on medication. Now the second things start getting tough I feel like I need it. Like I have to be medicated because it will make me safe. Why am I so afraid of everything? Why is everything so terrifying? I can’t think straight. In my head I’m trying to find some way out. Some way to dodge growing up. But I can’t. I need to get better. I need to stare it down, but I can’t. I’m too afraid. When will my mind snap into place? When am I supposed to be normal? I hate this. I hate everything. I’m a failure because I was handed this job and now I’m going to be even more of a failure because I will screw it up. I’m just no good. I think of suicide all the time because it’s the final way to run away. To run away from all my problems. To run away from growing up. I’ve spent my whole life running away. I already ruined myself and there is just no going back. That’s why that part of my mind begs me to finally just take that one final leap. I think I’m done for now. My head is still stuffed up. In a few months time I don’t know how I will feel about today. In one years time I’m still unsure. The world is so big and scary.
It’s been a while since I shared a song. I’ve been thinking about this one for the past week.
It’s really typical to say, but I really connect to this one.
I’ve been back home since Friday. I don’t like it here. I miss being by myself. Being alone. Being alone is safe. It’s lonely and I feel lonely, but being alone no one can touch you. Being around my parents and my brother is hard. When I’m alone I feel safe. I stay in my room a lot. I don’t like being in such a big space like the living room or kitchen. My apartment was my room, a kitchen, and a tiny little living room all connected by a tiny hallway. My bathroom was no bigger than a small closet with a tub. I don’t like being in such a big place. The room I’m in now is one of the smallest rooms in the house and it’s as big as half of my apartment.
I tried messaging her for the first time in a month. I wanted to leave her alone. I also wanted to stop because hearing nothing back was always so disappointing. Of course I heard nothing back. I’m not going to hear anything back for a long time. Maybe ever. I keep telling myself over and over again in my head she’s gone. In a little more than a week it will be five months. Then it will be half a year. How long before it just sticks in my head that she just doesn’t want anything to do with me. I think what hurts the most is that she was the only person in the world I was comfortable talking about any of this. I know she shouldn’t have to deal with that, seeing as her troubles are much worse than mine. It was just nice to have someone care.
I start my job on Tuesday. I don’t even know what I’ll be doing. I hope I just don’t screw it up. I also hope they don’t make me cut my long hair. I hated doing it for my last job, and I don’t feel like doing it for this job. My look is probably the one thing I have control of and having it taken away from me will probably just make me sadder.
I can already tell this summer will be hell. But I think that’s just typical for me. My thoughts of suicide aren’t going away. On the drive back home I thought about ramming myself into oncoming semi trucks at least 8 times. I think about dying a lot recently. It’s just another one of those periods.
I think it finally happened. I think that part of my brain has finally clicked. So today was my last day of the semester. The presentation happened and nobody said anything about it. Summer has started. But my anxiety is still here. My depression comes in waves usually. Once all the difficult stuff is done with (finals, work, stuff with my parents), I find some sort of relief in it being over. When those times come I’m able to look at myself in the mirror and not completely hate myself. I’m able to smile when I think of something funny and I’m able to dream when I think of my future. I have these little delusions about being something in the future. That’s all they are. Delusions. But they are nice to have. To feel happy in that moment of dreaming about something nice. To dream about being a useful engineer and making great things. But now I think it’s clicked in my head. That inflection point where everything seems hopeless, no matter how peaceful that point in time is. Right now I should be happy about my break, but I’m not. I’m just thinking about how I’m a failure for not having an internship. How I’m a failure for not doing anything worth being proud of in my four years of college. How graduate school is such a laughable idea. How I’ll just end up screwing up my senior project. How I’ll end up screwing up my summer job I’m going to have. How I’m nothing. All day today I spent with my dad to get things done for moving out of my apartment and I felt ashamed every time we talked about something. Like the job I’m going to start next week. About all the internships I’ve applied for. How I’m supposed to graduate next year. How I’m thinking about graduate school. Everything seems so laughably pointless. Because I’m pointless. I’m nothing. I feel this heavy pain in my heart and I genuinely feel like it’s here to stay. I stopped taking medication a long time ago because I was tired of trying to be better. I was tired of trying to pretend that things would be better with it. I think there was always a tiny part of hope that says, I can be better, one day I’ll really prove myself and be better, I’m capable of being like everyone else. But now it’s gone. It’s clicked in my head.
I’m in the middle of a class right now. We are going to present today. I don’t feel good at all. I’m not proud of what I’ve done. I’ve never been proud of anything I’ve done. This time is a bit different though. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of my professor. I want to work under her for my final senior project. It’s a whole thing, but I really admire her. She’s super accomplished, so to fall flat on my face in front of her sucks. I’ve tried so hard for her class, but this one just fell apart. I just needed to get that out of my head for a bit. It was making me feel sick to think about it. I don’t know if it made me feel any better, but before I was writing I was definitely going to throw up. Now I still feel like I’m going to throw up. I’m just no good.
I’m kind of tired. I don’t want to do anything. I have two tests and one presentation left and that’s the semester. Even though I only have two things left, I don’t really care about any of it. I just feel like coasting. I’ve always coasted, so why should now be any different. I just ain’t feeling it. Any of it really. It’s all just a pain to deal with. I kind of just want to go to sleep and not have to worry about any of it. I often think about what’s supposed to make people happy. What is that quality that people find that makes them say “Yeah this thing that I’m doing right now is fine.” I often try to look for happiness in my accomplishments or in people that I want to be close to. However, I’ve never accomplished anything worth being proud of and I have nobody close to me. So where exactly am I supposed to look if the places I’ve already check aren’t doing it. Hmm. It’ll be one month next week since I’ve stopped. I’m thinking about keeping it up. It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, but maybe this is the time it will stick. I’ve always been afraid to let go, but maybe this time I will. I know the only way to really do that is to just cut it off completely, but even then I’m scared. The last time I tried to do it, I left one little thread hanging, because I was too scared to let go. I don’t think I’ll cut the cord completely just yet, but I think it might be in the cards. Who knows? At the end of the day it just wasn’t in the cards. I have to just learn to be ok with that.