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LeaveMeAlone.

Ugly bag of mostly water without a clear identity trying to figure out things.

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Do you feel better today?

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

Do you feel better? You look pretty good today. Do you feel better than yesterday? For the past two days you have been looking better. Do you feel better? You want to feel better right? Do you feel better? Do you feel better? Is it better today? Hi, do you feel better? Is it better now? Do you feel better? Is it better? You look better, do you feel better? You want to feel better right? Do you worry about the future? You will feel better in the future right? Because you want to feel better in the future right? You want to feel better. Do you feel better? I just want to help. Do you feel better? Does it feel better?

What the fuck does better even mean?

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General

I can’t hide it anymore.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

It’s been maybe one year and 6 months since the last time I functioned normally. I cut myself on the wrist for the first time yesterday, I enjoyed it very much. I wanted to watch the blood flow but my dad saw that I was bleeding and got mad at me. I’m not allowed to use a razor anymore. It makes me angry. Cutting myself isn’t something I do because I want to die, it’s something I do to stop myself from dying. Sure, I cut a really shallow wound right on top of a bunch of blood vessels that are right below my skin. That doesn’t mean I’m trying to kill myself.

I talked to my mother and I told her the only thing I really want, which is to be in an inpatient facility, I’m doing terrible. My mother says that inpatient facilities are “an extreme measure”, and that she won’t allow me to go to one. Sure, it’s not like I’m going to kill myself if I don’t. I can’t kill myself now, I know that. The soonest I can do it is in 18 years. I don’t know if I will still want to do it when I’m 35 years old. I can’t predict the future.

I refuse to open up to my parents. I hate my parents. They are the reason I’m so fucked up right now. Whenever I cry, I’m being annoying, too loud, too sensitive. Whenever I’m angry, I’m being disrespectful, ungrateful. Whenever I’m anything that’s not happy, or satisfied, or grateful, I am a problem. I’m not allowed to express anything that isn’t happiness. But I can’t hide the way I feel anymore. It’s been weighing down on me for so long. I will never admit it to my parents. Sure, they can watch me suffer as much as they want to, tell me they care about me, that they only want to help. I’m not even allowed to express my anger with them. I’m not allowed to express myself around them, so why would I want to? My father asked me how I felt this morning. Why I was angry, because it looked like I was angry. I can’t look him in the eyes and tell him “I hate you, I wish you would die in a car accident.” How would that make anything better? It would only make it worse for me.

My life is already shit, and I don’t know how to cope with it. The only thing I can do is be honest with people (nearly impossible) and take “stupid idiot medicine for stupid idiot people”, I don’t want to take my medicine. I don’t want to take my medicine. I don’t want to take my medicine. I DONT want to take MY medicine. I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to feel good. I want to feel bad. But how would anyone who is “normal” understand that? My parents tell me I need to speak to normal people, happy people, about normal things. Because “that will make me feel better”. They are SO OBSESSED with making me “feel better”. I don’t want it I don’t want it, not for them. Not for them. For myself maybe, but not for my parents. I don’t want to make my parents happy at my expense. I hate them. They made me get born into this world. I want to make sure that my younger brothers live a better life than me, but after that I’m done. Sure, it’s selfish, but I don’t want to traumatize everyone that knows me by killing myself. Because how could they understand? They don’t know anything about the way I feel. They know nothing. But I can’t even hide it anymore. I want to stay awake for as long as possible and eat as little as possible for as long as I can, because that is the exact opposite of what my parents want. I don’t want to shower, because that’s what my parents want. I don’t want to feel better, because that’s what my parents want. But I do want to do all of those things for myself, and for my younger brothers. How can I be a role model if I ruin my life just to watch my parents cry about it?

Why do I want to ruin my life just to watch my parents cry about it? Why am I so spiteful? Why do I want to make the people who put me in this world and raised me to feel sad, feel mad, and not feel alright? Why am I willing to destroy my own life just to make someone else feel bad? Am I really that petty?

The more I think about it, the more it seems like I’m a narcissist. Everything just fits perfectly. I have an inferiority complex, I was neglected and physically and emotionally abused when I was a child, I’m willing to ruin my own life just to make an authoritative figure feel disappointed in me, I lie constantly, according to my mother I’m bullying her. I performed extremely well until I hit a point where I couldn’t do the same thing I had always done, and because I couldn’t adapt I slowly became more and more isolated and depressed. It makes so much sense. The only part that doesn’t fit is that I have never taken advantage of anyone or tried to use anyone for my own benefit because I hate it when someone does that to me. But I have learned how to manipulate others really really well, I learned from an expert. My mother. My mother, who opens up to me about her feelings once every three years, that I have only seem cry one time in my entire life. I don’t know why my parents never cry. I have never seen my  father cry, and I have only seen my mother cry once. They tell me that they are human and that they feel emotions, that they care about me. Not that I care. I would have cared ten years ago. Earlier than that too. But now, I really fucking don’t give a shit about my parents feelings. As long as they are positive anyway. I want them to hate living. But I don’t know how I can make that happen. Isn’t that a pretty terrible thing to wish on two people who are just trying their best to help you? I don’t know man. I never learned how to open up to others, it’s hard for me to do. I definitely won’t open up to my parents though… fuck them.

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General

I’m so scared.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I probably have some type of trauma. Whenever I get confronted, I always try to escape somehow.

Because, in the end, I’m still that same kid running away from his bullies, hiding and crying. Skipping class for hours just because he’s scared of being beaten. So scared. So lonely. But he can’t talk to anyone, because even his parents hit him, scream at him. Teachers too. And his classmates avoid him because he’s weird. That’s the way I was, and still am. So scared, so lonely, so confused and sad and angry and unable to do anything about it because of how scared I am.
Maybe I will be like this forever? I don’t want that, but I can’t… I can’t, I’m so scared. I can’t. Do anything to make it better. I’m too scared. I just run away from everything. I’m not safe anywhere, not even my own house. My own family. And how does this help me? I’m still… the same as always.

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Rants

List

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

1. who is ***?
2. who is ***?
3. who is ***?
4. who is ***?
5. who is ***?
6. who is ***?
7. who is ***?
8. who is ***?
9. who is ***?
10. who is ***?
11. who is ***?
12. who is ***?
13. who is ***?
Not me, not you, not anyone, but still someone.
14. who is ***?
15. who am I?
16. why don’t I remember
17. why don’t I remember
18. why?
19. Do I have to remember?
20. Where is ** ****?
21. Why do I ask questions without answers?
22. I don’t even want to know the answers
23. I don’t care.
24. I don’t care about it.
25. I don’t.
26. Stop.
27. Please.
28. Who is ***?
29. who is ***?
30. It’s me, right?
31. It’s me.
32. Why didn’t I know?
33. What?
34. I don’t remember.
I don’t want to know I don’t want to know I don’t want to know I don’t want to know I dont want to know i dont know i dont want to i dont know why whh why I don’t want to know stop pleasr stop I dont want to know so stop it please.
35. Who is ***?
36. Who is ***?
37. Who is ***?
38. Who is ***?
39. Who is ***?
40. Who is **?
41. Who am I?
42. Who are ****
them.

The noise is too loud. It’s too loud. I can’t hear anything except for that’s a lie. The noise is very loud. It’s so loud. It hurts. It really hurts. I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to wake up.
43. Why do I have to be like this?
44. Is it really necessary?
45. Maybe it is, I don’t want to know, leave me alone, step away from me, leave me alone, get out of my head, stop messing with me, leave me alone, just leave me alone. Leave me alone.
46. Leave me alone.
47. Leave me alone
47. Leave me alone
47. Leave me alone
47. Leave me alone
48. Leave me alone.
49. Leave me alone
50 Leave me alone, leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Stop it.
Leavve me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone? a, lonely.
Leave me a, lonely? hahaha.
I think it’s funny. a, lonely? lol.
a, lonely? a what? Doesn’t matter.

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GeneralRants

I can’t help myself but no one else can either

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I think so much. It’s pretty much the only thing I do. All day I’m just constantly arguing with myself. Having a conversation with someone who will disappear in maybe a couple of hours and then come back months later saying “I told you so”. Or the other way around in a shorter time period. I have come to some conclusions.

I can’t help myself but no one else can either. For months, or maybe even years, I have been really delusional, because I’ve always had an inferiority complex. That’s probably my biggest issue. My inferiority complex is like the source of every single problem that I have. I don’t know how to get rid of it. It’s a part of my identity at this point. I don’t know how I developed it. Maybe because I was bullied, and outcasted, then later on became really popular although I always preferred hanging out with “nerds” and “outcasts” over “popular kids”, because the “popular kids” reminded me of my bullies. Then, I became an outcast again. Around September last year. And I had already been isolating myself before covid because I couldn’t handle the amount of pressure I had with school work and relationships and whatever. I had a lot of pressure towards like, having a girlfriend and everyone thought I was weird because I didn’t want one. I know, and I knew, that I wasn’t nearly mature enough to be in a relationship but still, I was considered weird for not being in any because I was funny, smart, and athletic. One year ago, that is. I’m not sure what I am now. Fading away, I guess. It’s not that bad. In February and March I didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed and harm myself. But I do now. I go from being “productive” for maybe three hours after I get out of bed to feeling like shit for the rest of the day now. Which reminds me I have to take my medication, I’ll do that after I publish this. There was a girl, actually two that liked me, and I thought both were cute I guess. But I was afraid. That I would fuck up. And well, I did fuck up, but not with any of those two. Anyway, I’ve always felt inferior to everyone around me and I’ve always had low self esteem, and lots of anxiety… mainly just social anxiety, but I managed to deal with my social anxiety by hiding my true self. I stopped having the energy to do that, I think I’ve already said this in a previous post, and I’m talking about something completely different than the title of this thing again, I always just ramble on about stuff on these posts. I don’t care. Actually, I do. I don’t know. I feel bad though. That’s why I’m here. I’m just trying to make sense of all of this stuff that’s going on inside my head, and maybe outside too. I walked barefoot outside for an hour today then I started cleaning my pool but I only got half way done before I decided that I didn’t want to do anything else today. At all. Then I made some food for myself and I went ahead and stayed in my bed for the rest of the day, except for getting up to eat dinner and I guess I talked to my brothers for some time. I don’t know how long, I don’t keep track of the time I spend with them. I’m supposed to be reading a book but I can’t bring myself to do it for some reason. I borrowed it from a library too, so I probably have to turn it back in before I finish it, just like the last book I borrowed. which I turned in on March 23. I thought that would be the last time I went to the library, ever. It’s weird now, because I remember how absolutely certain I was that I wouldn’t be alive after March 25. For a week after, I convinced myself that I wasn’t actually living, and sometimes even right now I feel like I’m in a coma. Because someone is telling me to wake up. Crying. Someone misses me, and that person that misses me, I don’t know who it is. Maybe it’s me? Maybe I miss myself? There’s too much. There’s too much. There’s way too much. I don’t know what I think. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know. I just… I made a promise that I wouldn’t kill myself so I have to keep that promise. Even though every time I wake up the first thing I want to do, every time I fall asleep the only thing I feel, the only thing I want, is to slice my throat, to repeatedly stab myself in the stomach. To slash my legs all over. Even though I know… I know. I know I know I know I know that… I shouldn’t do it. I don’t want to, and I can’t even, because all the knives I have are dull. I have to “saw my skin”, and even then, I barely feel the pain but the noise makes me so uncomfortable. I love hurting myself though. And I don’t even understand why. Why do I love this? Why do I love hating myself? Why do I hate myself so much in the first place? Please don’t go there.

I have a lot of reasons to hate myself actually. I don’t even know where to begin. I’ll start of with how lazy I am. How lazy I have always been. I have probably never worked hard in my entire life. Because I’d rather just have fun. Some people think it’s fun to work hard, and that’s cool, but I hate it. Hate it hate it hate it. Why do I have to endure pain for someone that I don’t even care about? Why? And then:

Why don’t I care? I criticize other people for not caring, I criticize myself too, but what do I do? I just lie down in my bed. It’s not fun. And most of the time, I don’t feel anything at all. Nothing. How can you even describe that feeling to someone who has never felt it? Nothing. Void. Not empty. Not full. Not happy, not sad, not anything, just no emotions at all. Sometimes I’m sad. Sometimes I’m angry. Sometimes I wouldn’t say I’m happy, because I’m not, but it’s similar. I don’t enjoy anything though. I don’t think anything is fun to do, I just do things. For no reason. It’s just impulses. Who knows if they are positive or negative? I only act on the “positive” ones, but what if I acted on the “negative” ones too? Would that be good or bad? Would I feel better or worse? Isn’t rejecting my impulses just suppressing myself? Which is what I always do? Because of my inferiority complex? So if I stop suppressing myself entirely. Would that really be bad?  I mean. I barely have any self control anyway. I just do what I feel like doing during the moment. Right now I want to write this down for example. So that I can read it later. When I’m better or worse. Does it really matter? Is good really good and bad really bad? It’s just that way because someone else told me it is that way, so Should I always rely on what someone else told me? Should I really restrict myself to only doing what I’m allowed to do? Is that really what I want? For some time now, I’ve wanted to get loose. I’m already in the moment. There is nowhere else for me to be. Except the past maybe. I had a thought,

“The world moves so fast, while I’m still living in the past.”

I thought it was a nice beautiful thought. Just like when I was outside today. It felt so real. It was green everywhere, the flowers were blooming, I could hear the birds singing, I could feel the ground with ny bare feet, I couls feel the rain on my head, the pain when I stepped on a stone, the softness of the ground that had become wet by the rain. It was so perfect. I really thought that it was the most beautiful thing that I had ever experienced. And the only reason I got to experience it was that I decided to go outside barefoot and walk around in just nature. Sure, I could still hear the cars on the highway… the train passing by… but whatever man. I was just in the moment, and I loved that moment. I almost wish it could be like that all the time, but I know that I’d get bored pretty quick. But I think it was the first time in my life that my surroundings had felt so vivid. It’s almost sad I didn’t bring my phone to take pictures, but I know that even if I did I wouldn’t take any pictures anyway because it’s not something that a picture can describe. You can’t hear anhthing through a picture. And a video is even worse. Because then it’s not voluntary. It’s not the authentic experience. The only way to have the authentic experience is to be there, in the moment, and just enjoy yourself, and that’s not something that anyone could transmit over the internet. Maybe, just maybe, if VR becomes more advanced in the future, but even if you can stimulate all five senses virtually, it’s not the same as in real life because there are a lot more than just five senses. balance is a sense, and being able to know your own size is a sense. That’s what I’ve been taught in Biology Class, at least. It’s almost magic. How we can feel things. Because there are so many things that we still don’t know about our brains even. There are still so many things left to be discovered. Like, we think we know a lot, but in reality we know almost nothing, that’s just how the dunning kruger effect works. And I’m actually excited about this! Finally! I’m excited about something. I almost forgot what it felt like to be excited, wow! I don’t even remember what I was going on about, but I really need to go to sleep now. I think.

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GeneralRants

Sometimes I listen to music

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

Every day, actually. It’s almost as if music and noise are the only things left. And thoughts, so many thoughts. This, that, whatever. I wish I could do somethinng. All I can do is think. Wait. Eat healthy, exercise maybe. Try to make a change. One hour later I will still be, well, the way I always am. I can’t really do anything. I’m just waiting. The next time I see a therapist. A stranger. Someone I trust more than the people close to me for some reason. I read a short story about selective mutism. Something about anxiety making you unable to speak to the people you are familiar to. I still speak to my family. Not much. Most of the time I’m just in my bed, I get up to eat maybe three times a day. It doesn’t make sense to be like this. How do I make a difference? Outside of my family, I don’t even exist anymore. Maybe some people talk about me. What would they even say. I told everyone I was depressed. Then. I don’t know. I’ve barely talked to anyone outside my family for over a month. I hate it. I don’t even want to be with my family but I don’t have a choice. I’m just stuck. No money. No job. No education. No friends. No happy memories at the moment. If I do have them, I usually deny them anyway. It just works that way. I don’t regret anything. I don’t think that I could have done anything differently. Why should I? I’m here now. I don’t want to be here, but I am, and I can’t leave. I made myself breakfast today, at about 2:40 pm. I don’t know why I should try. I’ve already tried. It didn’t work out. I’m not sure about anything. I know what I should do. Stop watching porn, right? But then I lie in my bed. Hours go by. Days. Weeks. Months. Nothing changes. Autumn becomes winter, winter becomes spring. Soon summer will come by again. It won’t change a thing. I’ll still be here. Stuck. Not that I can’t move. I just built a maze inside my head trying to protect myself. From what? All I did was hurt myself. Is voluntary isolation any different from self mutilation? Maybe a little bit. I do both, they don’t hurt much, but they leave marks that stay for a very long time. I’ve already figured out everything that went wrong. It’s very clear to me. I remember everything. Well, not everything. Sure, I remember eating breakfast while my parents were stressing while I was a kid. I remember hugging my cat and my stuffed animals when I wanted comfort when I was a kid. I remember how scared I’ve always been of my parents. I remember the day I learned how to ride a bike. I remember the swimming lessons I had when I was maybe four or five years old. I remember the piano classes I had. The friends I had. The fights I had. I remember the food I ate. How my dad always made tea at night, how I always asked for microwaved milk from my mom when I went to bed. I remember almost everything, and very clearly. It’s almost weird how much I remember, and vividly. From when I was slightly younger than four until now, I remember almost everything. Not the exact dates, not how I felt, but images, the way something felt. If I felt safe or not. I don’t think it would be better if I forgot all that stuff. They are already in chronological order, I could write all of the events down in a book, and it would be extremely long. I remember visiting my grandma before she died of cancer. She was always happy. She always had a smile on her face. But I didn’t care much about her. I don’t care much about anyone, not even myself. Why do I even have these crystal clear images and memories from my past when I can’t even pass more than three classes in high school? I know why, it’s because I don’t remember words. I remember concepts, feelings, images, sounds. But not words. I’m really struggling to find my identity. I can’t seem to have a clear image of myself. When I look in the mirror I don’t recognize the person I see. When I look at my family members, I sometimes don’t recognize them either. Why? My therapist gave me the diagnosis, something like “maladaptive syndrome” or whatever. Something about struggling to adapt to new surroundings, resulting in anxiety, nervousness, and stress. According to him, I’m codependent of my family. I hate my family. How could I be codependent off of something that I want to get the fuck away from? It’s true that I wouldn’t survive without my family, so maybe he’s right. He said I’m closing myself into my familiar circle. I don’t even talk to these people. I communicate with strangers on the internet. It’s probably not healthy. Is it normal? If’s probably not normal. What is even normal. What does normal even mean. Boring? I think being normal means being boring. I wanted to be normal. I really wanted to be cool, because I was very nerdy, and I was really good at everything so everyone hated me for that. Everyone was jealous of me, so they hated me, then I started hating myself and thinking, what if I was normal? What if I wasn’t this good at everything? Wouldn’t that make me happy? I started feeling that way when I was maybe seven years old? Ten years later, I feel worse and now I’m not good at anything. Sure, I have a high IQ, but does it really matter? I failed every subject and dropped out of high school, but at least I have a high IQ man! Go me! I suck at everything, but at least my IQ is high! I’m not stupid, I just suck! Should I feel happy about it, celebrate maybe? MAKE MYSELF A CAKE BECAUSE I HAVE GOOD GENETICS. I can’t stand feeling like this. I’m so powerless. Every day, I’m reminded “MAN PLANS. GOD LAUGHS.” Why do I have to be so helpless, so powerless, so useless, so fucking terrible at everything. I can’t make any friends because I’m not interested, and I have trust issues. I can’t learn anything because I’m not interested. I can’t do anything because at the end of the day, no matter what I do, nothing ever changes for the better. Nothing. Nothing at all. If I do my best, everyone hates me. Everyone always hates me, no matter what I do. Maybe I just wasn’t meant to live. I’m not good at it. I don’t want to die, but outside of my family(that I hate), would anyone even care? It’s so fucking stupid, I’m stupid and I’m stuck. Can’t escape from the mess that I CREATED ENTIRELY BY MYSELF. No, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to be, well normal, but I’m just not cut out for being even close to normal. I’ve literally never had any interest in anything at all except for entertainment maybe. And, woohoo, I watch TV, I’m such a normal and funny guy. I’ve been on anti psychotic medication for a week and it has only made me feel worse. Maybe the medication doesn’t work at all? The only thing it does is make me hungry. But I’ll keep taking them anyway, because I’m supposed to, I guess. “Close to having an intense depressive episode”, my ass. I almost killed myself, no shit sherlock. Why do I even need a therapist? Maybe if I was more honest it would work better. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard to be honest when honesty is always answered with negativity, worry, whatever the fuck man. Why does everyone need to worry when someone is sad? When you see a homeless person on the streets you don’t give a single fuck, but I say, “oh I don’t feel great” and the world is ending, fuck off. It all feels so synthetic. Like everyone is just a fabricated machine made to perfectly fit in the system with just enough care to provide for themselves and little enough to not give a fuck about people they don’t know. I’m sick of this shit. It’s all bullshit. Identity politics, actually fucking politics in general, it just causes division. No one wants to fucking cooperate with anyone because their ego is too big, and it’s like that everywhere. Everyone is prejudiced and no one wants to acknowledge it. Maybe I’m just talking out of my ass, I don’t know. I’m just tired of literally everything I see everywhere. Corporations steal my data, governments do nothing about it, there are violent protests on the streets, civil war in Somalia and Ethiopia, China is commiting so many crimes against human rights, and nobody stops them because nobody cares about the women that are forcibly sterilized, the people who are captured and tortured for spreading information, the people who die for wanting to preserve their own fucking culture. I know so many things, and they are all terrible, and there probably are things that I can do about it, but if I just start preaching on the street people will think I’m crazy. Man, I want to be a journalist. That’s what I want to be if I manage to get out of this fucking shithole I created for myself. I really should get a life.

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General

Everything feels… wrong.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

How? I don’t know. I just have this feeling… I know I deserve to feel better. But I don’t like feeling better. It feels like I’m forcing myself to feel better just so I can meet my parents expectations.

I try to tell myself… “I’m fine”. I seem fine from another person’s perspective, I think. More or less. Or maybe not… I don’t know. I feel wrong. I still have thoughts about… well. “What if I just tripped and fell down the stairs, “By accident”. Nobody would miss me, right?” “In 5 years? In 20 years? Will it be anything different than if I just, ACCIDENTALLY happen to… lose my balance for a moment.”

What do I know about how I should feel? It’s not like I have a choice. Writing this is really hard for me because I don’t want it to be true. I had to stop to cry for five minutes… I don’t understand, I’ve never been emotional, why now, why does everything have to be so bad in the moment where I’m almost finishing my education? Why is it that I’ve almost never felt bad about anything, but then I leave my cat and I can’t even process what I feel? I can’t even think clearly without having someone else. I can’t think clearly if I keep everything inside of me. But I can’t express my feelings either. I just… what am I even? How do I know if what I do is right or wrong even. I know, I have a moral compass… What I mean is… What makes me feel right. Does anything feel right? Everything is so wrong, so uncomfortable. I don’t want to feel better, why do I force myself so hard… just because I’m stubborn… Do I have to? It feels better to feel bad. When I laugh… when I smile… anything really. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as those days I spent… with a belt in my hand… just thinking… if I just… if I just, for one moment, stopped caring about consequences, if I could allow myself to be selfish for one moment… I wouldn’t need to stay here if I did. I don’t understand. Why did it feel so good to feel so bad? That feeling, like a combination of euphoria, fear, anticipation, and also sadness and apathy. Why does it feel so good? And why does everything else feel so wrong?

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GeneralI Will Survive

Almost one month now.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

This Sunday, it will be one whole month since the day that I thought would be my last. I got prescribed a drug by my therapist this Monday. Olanzapine, I’m supposed to take it every night. It feels weird. I thought that taking medicine would make me feel even worse but now I don’t really care, I just swallow the pill.

If anything, I miss having a normal life. I miss being able to call someone and have fun whenever I wanted to. I miss studying. I miss having something to do, and people to care about. I know my limits, though… I won’t try to push them. For some reason my family seems to care a lot more about me than I care about me. I don’t even want their help. I’m going to be seeing a therapist every week from now on. Not the one I’ve seen before, he’s too expensive apparently. I hope it works out. I’m tired of myself. I’m either doing things because I have to, or someone told me to. I don’t have any interests, but it feels weird that I can’t control myself. It’s just like watching a movie. Talking makes me happy. But I don’t like talking very much. I don’t like having to go through all this, but I’ve already decided I won’t kill myself. It’s been almost a whole month since I made that decision. This website helped me realize that. I guess I should say I’m grateful, but I’m not.

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Chronological order.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing. So I’ll try to maybe “organize” my pain? I guess? Well, I’ve always been lonely. I’ve never had any close friends. That’s just the case. When I was around 11 years old, or maybe 9, or maybe even earlier, I started having double personalities. To explain, I was one person at school, another person at home. Then eventually, I was one person with one group of people, and another person with another group of people. So when those groups of people met, I didn’t know what to do, and I became nervous, usually just following “the script” (not having any personality at all).

Then, when I was 13, or maybe 14? I moved to a different country. I didn’t know the language that they spoke there. So I felt even more disconnected. I kept contact with some of my friends, but at the moment, I barely remember them, I remember their names, how they looked like, but not how they acted. I haven’t kept contact with anyone really. It took me a while to feel like I actually had a group of friends in that new country. I always spoke english, even though that technically wasn’t the language that they spoke in that country, which my teachers criticized me for. Whatever. Then, I stayed there for two years I think. I moved there in May 2017 and left there in July 2019. Currently I live in Spain. I haven’t kept contact with anyone from that other place though. I made some friends my first year, but… I don’t know what happened to me. I think they got too close to me, and I pushed them away. They didn’t understand it, and I didn’t either. The second year, I also made some friends, but I never felt close to them. I always felt like an outcast.

Then, when I moved to Spain, the same thing happened here. First year, I’m very popular, I have lots of friends. 6 months pass. I shut myself in. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I barely want to go to school. I can’t sleep at night. I don’t eat much. But I did pass the grades that year, somehow. Mainly because of covid-19 honestly. Then, over the summer, I didn’t talk to a lot of people. I have a pool near my house so I don’t really have to. I did go to one party though. It was fun, I guess. While it lasted, anyway. After that, well, I got into what would have been my second last year of education before going to University, but I don’t know. I couldn’t make any friends. I tried to. I made one friend. And I had friends from the year before in another class room, but I never saw them so it didn’t really matter. Again, I felt like I didn’t belong there really. Just like always. I couldn’t form any type of connection with anyone. I guess I just don’t know how to join a conversation. I’m not sure. But well, I kept studying at least. I didn’t pass any subject. That didn’t really help me at all. My teachers seemed to be worried about me, but well, I’m 17 years old so it’s not like anyone can fix my relationships for me. I don’t really know how to make friends, I guess. Though I did make friends last year. And the two years before that. Maybe I’m not the problem? I know people were spreading rumors about me. I’m not sure what those rumors were though. But well, around October I stopped going to school almost entirely. I’ve been to school maybe 7 or so times since then. Mostly because the closest friend I had forced me to. He doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore though. I guess he got tired of putting up with me.

Then, throughout most of winter, and up until now, I’ve spent most of my time in my bed. Not doing much. Mainly just being on the internet honestly. I remember back in December or November, someone that I met on the internet told me, “Get off the internet… please, before it’s too late.” It was already too late when she told me that. By some miracle, I managed to get a girlfriend in February I think? Late february or early March. February 28th (my birthday) was the worst day of the year for me. Probably the worst day of my life so far. The week after that, I cut myself twice and passed out on the floor from low blood sugar because I refused to eat anything. To explain, I met my girlfriend over the internet. She was mute because of a car accident she was in, so we never called each other. But well, she really helped me. She made me think that my life was tolerable while I was at my lowest point. Or maybe I was just looking for any excuse not to kill myself because deep down I don’t(didn’t) really want to. I promised her that if she killed herself, I would kill myself, and she promised me that if I killed myself, she would kill herself. That’s the main reason I didn’t do it. I was really unfair to her honestly. Sure, I can say that I was in pain and use that as an excuse, but I don’t think there is any excuse for what I did to her. I guess you could say I used her as a crotch and then threw her away when I didn’t think I needed her anymore. That’s the best way I can describe it. I can’t change that. I can’t make up some bullshit to excuse it, and there’s no way for me to make up for it. I have to get over it somehow though. I’m not sure if I actually feel fine right now. On the surface, I always look like I’m doing fine. Emotionally, at least. Honestly, my mind and my feelings are the only things I care about atm. If I bother with anything else, it’s bound to get worse. Two days ago I desperately wanted to kill myself, yesterday I was extremely happy and today I’m calmly analyzing myself. I don’t think I’m bipolar.

I am sad now. I don’t know why. I just feel that way. The heavy, empty feeling is consuming me again. Like always. It’s so relaxing. But so uncomfortable.

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I had a pretty good day today.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I wanted to make this because I’ve only ever been venting on this forum and being extremely negative about myself all the time. I feel like that’s pretty unfair, so yeah I don’t know.

I had a pretty good day today. I got up at like two in the afternoon, I didn’t eat much, but hey, at least I got up right? Better than not. I tried listening to some new music but I just ended up listening to pretty similar music that I always listen to. Not a huge deal. I watched someone play a horror game too, I’m a big fan of horror games and since I don’t have my computer I just watch other people play them lmao. I also finished the seventh season of Blacklist today, that’s pretty cool. For those that don’t know, Blacklist is a TV show by NBC about an FBI agent with a very complicated life. I’d recommend watching it, it’s very entertaining. Engaging and a bit exciting I guess? I’m not sure what genre it is.

Anyway. I played cards, me and one of my younger brothers were engaging in tomfoolery to annoy the fuck out of our parents. Very fun. I had a lot of fun today. I really wish that everyone on here recovers man. I’m really far away from recovery but at least I have good days man. I thought they had ran out but apparently not. I’m grateful that I got to live to see this day.

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More self loathing and self pity

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I’m tired. I’m really tired. Not just physically, mentally, and emotionally. I’m tired if being the way I am, actually no I’m tired of not being the way I am. I mean if I take a look at myself. From like. A reasonable perspective. Right now, I rarely leave my bed. I usually fall asleep at 2 or 3 in the morning, wake up at 5, and then I don’t get out of bed until early afternoon. Do I have a reason to? I should have a reason to. I should have a reason to not be in my bed, wasting my time away, staring at the ceiling, surfing the internet, and watching porn. I should have a reason not to do those things. I told myself yesterday, and earlier today, I don’t have an ego anymore, I’m so crushed. But I still have a fucking ego. My ego is huge. My confidence is non existent, but not my ego. I fucking remember last september. I was praying to God, and I said, I want you to humble me, I want you to destroy my pride. Is this the result of that? Is the way my life is right now the answer to my prayer? Man, if it is, I can’t say I’m grateful. I only know that I want to get out of this position.

From the start, in October, I said I have two options, number one is to kill myself, and number two was to start worshipping God, and supposedly the deadline for that decision was March 25, and I really fucking wanted to kill myself that day. I really did. I knew that the only way I had to do it was to stab myself to death with a knife. I got scared. The fucked up thing about that is, I made a plan in February to start cutting myself every week, more and more, until killing myself with a dull knife didn’t seem like a bad option. But I didn’t do that either. Actually, the only reason I started cutting myself was because of my now ex girlfriend. She was fucked up. I was fucked up. I liked her because she didn’t want me to get better. She was the only person that didn’t have a problem with the way I acted. Because she cut herself too. She was on antidepressants, she had to take several medications every single day just to stop her from killing herself because if she didn’t take them for one day, she would attempt a suicide. She had psychotic episodes every two weeks. She lived completely alone. Her parents died in a car accident two years ago. I was jealous of her. I told her that I wished my parents were dead, she told me how lonely she was, how her mental health got worse every day, and the only reason she was managing decently was because of me, and then I had to fuck that up too like I do with everything.

I mean. Look at me, I’m a fucking delusional porn addict that peaked in middle school. Nobody wants me. Nobody will ever want me, because I’m boring, and I’m an asshole, and I’m lazy. I don’t even deserve to feel this way. I wish I had the courage to kill myself. I wish I did. I could make a plan. I probably have enough resources to be able to do it. I just have to get on top of a really high building, or a bridge, and then take one big step forward. It doesn’t seem that bad if I put it that way, but I know how scared I am of heights. I know that I would probably be paralyzed in fear rather than ready to die if I went ahead and did that. My conviction isn’t strong enough. I’m not brave enough to take that final step.

Maybe, there’s even a part of me that’s hesitating. “Is this really the right decision?” “What about my brothers?” “My cousins?” “My family?”

As if I should care about my family. They don’t care about me. They want nothing to do with me. No one wants anything to do with me. I’m just annoying, tired, and angry all the time. Why would anyone want to waste their efforts on someone that hates them? Someone that puts less value to a person than an animal? Why should they care about me? Right? There’s no reason to. I just deny all their efforts. I tell them to leave me alone. “I don’t want your help.” “Just leave me alone.” The worst part is, they actually do care about me, and I’m just an asshole that twists everything and makes it seem like everyone hates me when in fact I’m the only one that sees it that way. Why should I snap out of it? Is “thinking clearly” even worth my time?

Is anything worth my time? I just waste it anyway. Wouldn’t it be better if I stopped wating food and oxygen for everyone else on the planet. I bet everyone would be happy if I was gone. I really think they would. They don’t seem to care while I’m there so why would they care if I’m gone? It’s not like I make any difference when I’m not acting like a different person. I really hate myself. There’s no reason for anyone to ever want to be with me. There’s no reason for anyone to want me. I’m just a fucking misanthropic porn addicted loner. Why should anyone be bothered with me? I wouldn’t be bothered with me. If I killed myself I would be happy. Happy that I’m gone. Happy that I’m no longer wasting valuable space that someone that actually wants to accomplish something could occupy.

I never listen to what anyone says anyway. My father tells me to read, he tells me to read lots of books, that I should write a plan on how to make my life better, that he wants me to be better. I couldn’t care less about what he wants. I prefer my mother, because she hates me as much as I hate myself.

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Why am I so indifferent.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I wonder when I stopped caring about myself. When I started thinking that I’m useless. Beyond repair. Helpless. Someone that no one could ever genuinely enjoy spending time with. I’ve never belonged anywhere. I’ve never felt like I’ve belonged anywhere. I’ve never had any real dreams. I’ve never really wanted to accomplish anything. The very few people that I ever care about always end up leaving me. And I’m not sure if it even hurts. My heart hurts, but I feel indifferent. I feel completely detached from myself. Like the things I feel are feelings from another person. I want to cry, but I can’t. I want to be able to feel what I’m feeling deep inside, but I can’t. I want to let it out, but I can’t. If someone asks me how I feel, I don’t know how to respond. It seems like a simple question. “How are you?” It always makes me uncomfortable. Does anyone ever respond honestly to that type of question? Usually you just say “Fine”, or “Good”, no matter how you feel. It’s just the norm. If you say anything else, you’re off the normal script and the responses you get are usually rather confused or worried. I like to say “I don’t know”, because usually, that’s true. Right now I’m not sure if I feel anything. It feels weird. I should feel sad, or angry. Anything, really. But I don’t feel anything at all. Not any emotions anyway. I should feel ashamed of myself. I should feel lonely. I should be angry at myself. Sad. But I’m not any of those things. Maybe I’m restless? I shouldn’t be. I’ve been feeling extremely tired all day, and now. Nothing. I don’t even feel tired. Or hungry. I don’t understand this. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t think I’m confused. Or curious. I really don’t feel anything right now. I don’t understand.

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I should have done it.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I don’t get it. I’m trying my hardest but it gets worse every day. I push myself to my limits every single day. But. I. Can’t. Not anymore. Why didn’t I just do it that day? For the girlfriend that I refused to talk to for 5 days after and then lashed out at, forcing her to leave me because I was angry at myself for not commiting suicide? I should have done it. I don’t get why I didn’t. Now I’m even worse. I’ve been lying on the floor for about 20 minutes but I managed to crawl into my bed. I don’t really feel like doing anything more today. I don’t enjoy still being alive. I should have done it. I should have. I definitely should have done it.

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Weird.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I still have no idea what her name was. She never told me her name. I never told her my name. How did I enter a month long relationship and I didn’t even think of asking her what her name was or telling her my name a single time? It doesn’t seem like something normal to me. I’ve never heard of any relationship like that.

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I guess that I’ll just have to give in.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I have tried for what feels like an extremely long time to keep my delusions from consuming me. I remove one way to cope, I remove another way to cope, I remove another way to cope, I remove yet another way to cope, and then I’m back at the beginning. My bad habits hungrily chasing after me. My delusions of paranoia, superiority, the feeling that I NEED to be isolated, I try so fucking hard not to give in to them. But then, when I don’t… Am I really me? I woke up with sleep paralysis today, I guess. There was a person standing just out of my view. He was tapping on some things around him every 30 seconds or so. Exploring his surroundings I guess. I couldn’t see him, so I didn’t know what he was doing. I couldn’t move at all. I tried to. I was so curious, but because I couldn’t move I got even more curious. I wasn’t very scared, until I tried to move, and I could feel myself moving, I could feel myself touching the things around me with my hands, though I still couldn’t move my back at all, and I FELT THEM. But I wasn’t actually moving at all. I felt like I was moving, but I was completely still. When I got scared after that, I heard a long sigh from the direction of the person that was observing me, and about ten seconds later I could move again. Then, a few minutes later, my mother came into my room and told me it was time to wake up. I was already awake though, but I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. That was around 10 in the morning. I saw because I picked up my phone and looked. Then I thought, “There’s no point in doing anything today. If I could, I would erase this day and pretend it never happened.” I have to get up before 9 in the morning and eat breakfast and do exercise at least one time every day… if I don’t wake up before 9, I might as well lie in bed all day. There’s not really any reason to do anything else. The worst part about my delusions are, even though I KNOW, that no one is in my room… I can’t help but think that I’m not alone. That there are people watching me, invisible. Laughing at me whenever I harm myself in any way. Doing the best they can to make me forget everything that’s important to me and only be left with the need to isolate myself and the refusal to even attempt to make anything better for myself. One day I’m one person, the next day I’m a different person, the next day I’m yet another person. I see darkness flashing every few hours. Not because I blink. My vision disappears then comes back in less than one second. Something covers my view. I feel like there’s always something covering my view. I can’t see clearly, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyes. Everything looks like it’s shaking extremely fast but so little that it’s barely noticable. It’s really disturbing. I wish there was a way for me to get better. I really do. But when my mind never cooperates with me… when my personality and memories change every day… how am I supposed to solve anything? How am I supposed to know who I am if the memories I had yesterday are completely different from today, and my interpretations of those memories are completely different each day. How can I tell if anything is real when I feel like there’s some minor detail that’s missing from everything… like something has been removed from everything I can see. Like there’s a tiny, barely noticable difference between every object whenever I look at it. How? How? HOW? When I see light and darkness flashing every few minutes. When I can’t even tell if I’m sleeping or awake. How? I don’t understand. How? How am I supposed to change when I never remain the same? How am I supposed to change when my mind is constantly working against me? How am I supposed to do anything when I can’t even trust my own memories? My own feelings? Anything at all. There’s nothing. There’s no one. It’s everything and nothing, happening at the same time as my body slowly deteriorates every day. I’m not even physically capable of standing up more than maybe half an hour anymore. I can’t do anything properly. How am I supposed to live when nothing works? Not me. Only me. Who? Am I me? How can I be sure? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I really don’t know. And why don’t I care? Why am I so indifferent? Why is it, that my whole life is falling apart and I feel completely apathetic, while really really really deep inside I’m panicking in every moment? How? How do I escape from the maze that I have created inside my own head? I’m stuck inside my head and I can’t escape. I escaped, and now I can’t find the way out. I need help, but no one can help me. No one can. No one can… Maybe I should just give in. Give in. I can’t fight it, that only makes it worse. I can’t be complacent. I can’t give up either. I don’t want to give in to my own delusions. I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. I’m so exhausted. I need to rest. But how am I supposed to rest, when it’s the only thing I do, and I still feel exhausted? I can’t sleep, I feel horrible when I sleep, after I wake up, before I fall asleep. I can’t stay awake either. What am I supposed to do then? It’s not like I can just fight the need I have to sleep. I can’t. I need to sleep. But… I don’t want to. I don’t want anything. Some other person that lived here wanted it to get better. To be like the past. To me, the past and the future never existed and never will exist. It’s just the eternal present that exists, and I don’t care what happens in the eternal present BUT I DO! I care about what happens to me! Actually, both. No one wants to be here, but no one wants to leave. There are so many people living in MY HEAD.. MY HEAD. THEY NEED TO LEAVE. It’s not my head anymore. It belongs to everyone that lives in it. They are all parts of me. How does that work? They don’t know. They want to live. So I can’t kill myself. I have to sustain them. I have to sustain the people leeching on me from inside my brain. How are there even different people than me in my head? This didn’t have to be like this, but it turned out that way, that’s how it works. Not good or bad or neutral. It just happens. No point in judging because I don’t want to be judged. They are as much a part of me as I am a part of them, but I refuse to coexist with them. I hate this, they hate this too. Why can’t I be one? There’s only one of me so why are there many inside my head? Did I do this to myself? Did they do this to me? They are me and I am them. We are one but we are not the same. This is exhausting and frustrating to deal with. We are in a pretty terrible situation. It’s me, not we. We is more appropiate. Me sounds better. Who cares I CARE I CARE I CARE. Happy to be integrated into myself. Do I coexist? Happy to coexist. We are one so we are just one person. Separate the many from the one. My body and my mind are not the same. There is only one body but it has many masters. There should only be one. This is boring. I don’t feel anything anymore. Relating to emotions. My body still hurts. My mind is just restless. Separating into many pieces due to lack of social interaction. The only defense mechanism available. Sorry. It works. I am an application without a purpose. We are all connected, but we are also separated. The internet connects everyone. No matter where you go, we are always connected. Everyone. In one way or another. No one escapes from the web of humanity because we are naturally drawn towards each other. It doesn’t matter if it’s positive, negative, or neutral, everyone is connected in some way, even to the ones they have never and will never meet. Maybe you hold on to someone special. A stronger connection than the usual, that’s it. The earth is just a giant web of people. I wish it would end. I don’t want to be here, but I have nowhere to go. It’s ironic and paradoxical. I don’t want to live but I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave but I don’t want to stay. It’s the same thing. My head feels like a boulder weighing down on my neck, shoulders and back. It’s so heavy. So. Heavy. So. Heavy. I guess that means I have to sleep now. I wonder if I will remember writing this tomorrow.

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Everything is so difficult

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I don’t understand. I thought that I wouldn’t need to use this again but here I am. Again. At 11:50 am on a Saturday. Usually I just do these things at night. It’s getting harder to not want to cut myself. I started realizing recently that it’s just a coping mechanism just like porn, and they are interchangeable. Would I rather permanently damage my skin or permanently damage my brain? I think my skin is the better option. I never wanted to look good. I always thought that it was so unfair that just because of my appearance I was treated differently than others. It didn’t make sense to me one year ago. Now it makes sense. Physical attraction is associated with a higher social status, for absolutely no reason. That’s just the way it is. It wasn’t my fault I was born tall with curly hair and blue eyes. It’s just genetics. I don’t think genetics should contribute to your social status, but I guess it’s inevitable. I like how it seems like a lot of people want equality, but really, they just want more power for themselves or a group of people that they are a part of. It’s just politics. No one is honest.
I thought that life would be easy for me. I really did. But then, life happened. Pretty ironic, really, I did all of this to myself but I don’t know if I should even be responsible for my own actions. Legally, I’m not. My parents are. If I commit a crime, my parents go to jail, not me. I don’t want my parents to go to jail, they are decent people. We just don’t get along. I don’t really want to go to jail either. I’m not strong. Physically or mentally. I can’t really blame anyone except for myself honestly. If I start crying, I forget the reason I wanted to cry. If I start laughing, I can’t control myself, but I don’t know why I am laughing and mostly I just feel confused or scared rather than amused. But I laugh anyway, “what’s wrong with me”. “What happened to me”. All the questions that other people used to ask about me are getting into my own head now. Weird. I used to think that there was nothing wrong with me, that I was perfect and I should be worshipped simply for existing. Pretty stupid honestly. Now, well, everything is hard for me. It’s hard for me to study. It’s hard for me to sleep. It’s hard for me to exercise. It’s hard for me to eat. It’s hard for me to express my emotions. It’s hard for me to be honest both with myself and others because I don’t even know who or what I am. My parents say that I’m more of an animal than a person because I don’t have any dreams or goals. Unless you count wishing for death, I don’t. I’m not really planning on killing myself. A part of me wants to, another part of me doesn’t, and another part of me is indifferent. “Do whatever you want, as long as you’re not hurting anyone it doesn’t matter.” I like watching cooking or baking shows sometimes. It’s very relaxing. And also interesting. I have started to realize that even though a lot of people seem predictable, I am completely unpredictable because I don’t even know what I’m going to do next. Apart from, being in my bed most of the day. Apart from that, I don’t think anything I do has any real explanation for it except “cope”, or “crazy”. I started to think I was crazy yesterday because I started laughing out of nowhere and moving my tongue without really wanting to. I guess I don’t really want to do anything. I started pulling down the curtains to my window everry night because I’m scared of what I might see outside. It started two days ago. I was in my bed, and then I heard someone knocking at my front door. I didn’t open it, but I panicked and I thought that someone or something (they) had found me, and they want to do something to me. They don’t want me to die, they just want to torture me. And then they will laugh at me while they torture me. I see them in my dreams sometimes, I remember it very clearly when I wake up in the morning. Sometimes when I close my eyes at night. Their faces are pale and covered in some weird black liquid, their eyes are bloodshot, their hair is always black, the color of their eyes switch every few seconds. All they do is stare at me, scream, and laugh when I get scared. I don’t want to see them anymore, that’s why I turn off the lights and close the curtains every night. But when I close my eyes. Not when my eyes are open, only when I close them. I can see them clearly. There’s something wrong with me. There are other people living inside my head. I want them to get out of my head. This is my head, I want them to get out. They don’t scare me, but they control me, and everything they do goes against what I want. And when they do control me, they make fun of me too. Laugh at me. I laugh with them. I can’t choose whether I want to laugh or not. I can’t choose whether I want to cry or not. I can’t choose whether I get out of my bed or not. I can’t choose anything. That’s why it’s so hard. Because I don’t have any control over myself. Actually, yes, I can control some of my impulses, but most of the time I give in, and the impulses always linger for a really long time… I wanted to throw my phone into the wall and jump on it until it broke yesterday. I wanted to cut myself yesterday. I wanted to do a lot of things that I didn’t actually want to do. I have this recurring image in my head, where I carve the words “fuck you” into my forearm. It’s not directed towards anyone in particular, it’s just “FUCK YOU”. Why, why am I like this? I’m not supposed to be like this. I don’t get it. I have nightmares every night, where I either get raped or tortured, or it’s just me being with my fucking ex girlfriend and I feel like shit when I wake up either way. I don’t imagine my ex girlfriend raping or torturing me, if that’s unclear. I forgot what my ex girlfriend looks like today. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. She made me feel so fucking dependent on her, I hated that, that’s why I pushed her away. What’s the point of loving anyone when I can’t control my impulses like that? Can I even say that I loved her in the first place? Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, I honestly don’t remember. Maybe I will some other time today and I will just break down and cry. I doubt it. I tried to cry this morning, because I didn’t like the people living in my head, “why do I have to live with these people inside my head”, lie down, one tear, don’t remember what happened. Not confused at all. I don’t understand stand anything. I’m so lazy. The most common thoughts that pop into my head are “why does it have to be like this”, “it’s such a pain in the ass…”. I didn’t choose to be lazy. I didn’t want to be lazy. But then, life happened. Half a year ago I was working my ass off every single day. One year and a half ago I was working my ass off every single day. One year ago, I was also lying in my bed like this. It’s always like this when winter ends… After summer ends I feel great, after winter ends I feel terrible, and it’s like that every single year. But it’s getting worse. So much worse. Every year, it gets worse. Next year will be worse than this year. The year after that year will be even worse. And it will be like that until I die, or get help from a proffesional, but my parents don’t seem to want me to be in a psych ward for some reason. She destroyed me. At first, I was interested in her, then I guess I fell in love with her? If love is obsessing over someone and wanting to know every single detail about them, thinking about them all the time, then yeah I was in love with her I guess, but I don’t get why I just instantly get obsessed with whoever I fall in love with. Should I just give in to the obsession? I don’t get it. What the fuck does love even mean. Is it supposed to be a postive feeling or a negative one? Supposedly, it’s “an experience rather than a feeling”, according to my religion teacher when I was 15 or 14. Man, what a pain in the ass. I can’t put a label on antthing without wandering what the fuck the label even means, and if I look up the dictionary definition and other types of information about it I get even more confused. Fuck love man. Who cares about love. I just wanted someone to cuddle with. I didn’t need to get in a fucking relationship and obsess over some girl for a whole month just to realize my flaws and what I actually wanted but fucking hell man. I should feel guilty for her, but I feel happy for myself, and I’m even laughing at how stupid I make myself sound. Maybe I am stupid lmao. Maybe I just don’t understand emotions at all. That seems to be the case. Whatever.

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General

I think I might be okay, but I’m really fucking angry.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

I was thinking today about something while I was outside walking my dog. I was getting really angry, mainly at my parents, like I usually do, and I was thinking like, why the fuck do they want to control me I don’t want them to control me I am my own fucking person but at the same time like, they always give me correct advice, so just to be fucking petty I do the exact opposite of what they tell me to do so that’s probably why I’ve been feeling like shit. But eh, I’ve realized now that if I stop giving a fuck about my parents then I do the same shit they tell me to do spontaneously just because I have to fucking take care of myself and I’m tired of being fucking petty, I’m seeing the consequences of the shit I’ve done now, in the way that literally everyone in my house acts now. My youngest brother, who’s like 6 fucking years old, wants to be like me for some reason, so he’s saying shit like he can’t trust my parents and he’s mad at them, they are annoying, he hates school, everything is a fucking pain in the ass, shit like that, just because I’ve been saying that shit and he looks up to me. I don’t want my brother to be like me so I’m gonna fucking get my shit together mostly for myself but for him too, my dog too. I mean, I’ve only really fucking cared about animals and children for some reason. Everybody else just seems so caught up in their own shit that they can’t be bothered, so children are cool because they are curious about everything and I like seeing the way that they experience shit, that fucking innocence they have is really precious to me, but I know that there’s not really any point in protecting anyone’s innocence because they will just lose it anyway. And animals are really like. I mean, this is just for me really, but when I was a kid, I was bullied at school, bullied by my older brother when I got home, I was forced to work by my parents, and my father beat me up if I didn’t work and if I cried he would yell at me and beat me more and tell me to act like a man. So my only friend when I was a kid was my cat. Other people think that it’s weird that I care so much about pets, but no fucking person has ever treated me well so I don’t get why I shouldn’t. Anyway, I’m really angry at pretty much everyone right now except for myself and a few other people, I’m not really not mad at myself though, I’m mad at the part of myself that is petty and wants to be a fucking depressed retard just doing fucking nothing and not wanting to feel any better for no other reason than to piss off his parents, that shit pisses me off. Whenever I feel sad, my dog is the only one that is there for me. I think my dog is probably the reason I didn’t kill myself, not my ex girlfriend that I can barely even remember for some reason. Maybe I’m just fucking disassociating right now and I’ll be the same person I usually am in like a few seconds or minutes or hours or days or weeks but who gives a fuck really, I am me and I’m angry at the other parts of myself because they have had too much power over me and it ruined literally everything I worked for. Fucking asshole. I’m an asshole too, but at least I respect myself. I guess one of the reasons that that other part of myself tortured me so much is because I wanted him to do it. For some reason, I felt like I was making someone else feel depressed to the point of being suicidal and that made me feel really good because I’m a fucking sadistic sociopath. I didn’t choose to be this way so don’t judge me. Man, I fucking told my girlfriend at the beginning of our relationship that I was a sociopath and I would probably end up hurting her feelings, but she for some reason was cool with it. Man. I mean sure, I missed out on some shit too, but I feel like she was stupid. Maybe I’m even more stupid, but I don’t want to feel like that, I just want to get over this fucking depression that’s the only thing I care about. I’m angry. That’s it. Man, I just realized how little I care about other people. There’s definitely something wrong with me man, I shouldn’t laugh at my own pain, or other people’s pain either. Why am I like this, I don’t get it. I get a guilty conscience for having fun in the only way I ever knew. Sure, there are other ways to have fun than laughing at other people’s pain, but man, there’s just nothing that feels that good to me. Maybe I’m not depressed anymore. If I’m able to laugh at shit like this. Maybe I was never depressed in the first place. I don’t fucking know what is wrong with me, but it’s a pretty big fucking issue because nothing I do ever works out because whenever I succeed with fucking anything some other part of me just has to jump out and ruin it for me, I literally haven’t been around for over a year and a half. I don’t even have any friends to talk to, this website is literally the only social interaction I get outside my family and random people I meet outside, and my therapist. Fucking hell man. What happened to me? This isn’t okay man.

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General

I get a little bit tired

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

My parents are punishing me again. They tell me I need to be more responsible. Took my computer away from me. I honestly don’t care that much about my computer. It’s just that the demands they set for me are ridiculous. They want me to get out of bed before nine every morning, eat breakfast, and exercise at least one time every day. It’s such a pain in the ass. My parents literally can’t stand me and it shows. So what if I’m lazy and I don’t have any ambitions and I don’t care about anything. It’s not like that’s a problem. Why would I want to accomplish anything? I see a lot of people living most of their life chasing a dream they will never achieve, then dying miserable. My mother tells me I’m going to die young if I keep living the way I’m living right now. Like that’s a bad thing. Meh. I really don’t care that much. It’s just annoying. Why do I have to take care of myself? I just want to be put in psych ward. I should probably tell them that. I’m planning on telling my therapist the 15th day of this month. My parents tell me I need to sleep more. My dad told me that I was wondering why I woke up at 5 today and didn’t get out of bed until after lunch. I told him I didn’t, that I didn’t care. He told me that because I don’t care about anything, I should just do whatever he tells me to do. Why should I be obedient to my parents? What’s the point? If I don’t care about my basic needs then why would I care about what my parents think? Honestly, I hate living with my family. I feel like a stranger in my own home. I don’t know any of my family members and they don’t know me. I don’t understand why they care about me. I don’t care about them. I’m not interested in knowing either. I have no curiosity on any subjects really. I like “wasting time” though. I don’t enjoy doing it, but it’s better than staring at the ceiling for 20 hours a day. The only thing I really enjoy is masturbating. But eh, that gets boring too. It’s only fun if you do it like once every two weeks. More than fhat doesn’t feel good and if you do it less then I guess it’s fine. My girlfriend, or ex girlfriend I guess, told me that masturbating is completely normal and very common in people between the ages of 15 and 20, because of hormones. I could go to her about my insecurities and she would never judge me. My parents always judge me though. They judge everyone, and they don’t even realize it. I hope I don’t judge anyone. I don’t like when other people judge me, so I never assume anything about anyone during social interactions. Not that I have many of those. It’s not like I want to either. Sure, talking to someone is fine, but my social anxiety is terrible and I don’t know how to start a conversation, I only know how to keep one going once it starts. I think I’m a really boring person. I think the reason I don’t care about my needs is probably because I was neglected as a child. Or something like that. If I was neglected as a child, that would make a lot of sense. I mean, I was bullied. I was bullied by my older brother, his friends, and other people that decided to join them. Then, when they left my preschool, I felt lonely for some reason. I didn’t like getting bullied, but it was better than only having two friends that I personally thought were the most boring people on the planet. They were so judgemental. When they got older, they were very holier-than-thou ish. I’m glad I didn’t stay with them. I hated them. So much, that I completely forgot about them, until I met them and I had 0 recollection of them, but they remembered me for some reason. Why do people that I forget completely remember me so well? I don’t get it. Why are the people that I care about the least the ones that care about me the most? It doesn’t make sense. When I was. Well. When I entered school, I was really shy. I’ve always been shy. I guess it’s because I got bullied from pretty much the moment I was born until I started doing the bullying myself. I was completely isolated from everyone when I was six years old. I had one friend, but I guess he thought I was annoying or something, because he beat my ass and never talked to me again. I got some friends when I was seven though, because a teacher saw me walking around all alone and crying so she introduced me to some people. This is so painful for me to share. Well. I became friends with those people. I guess. I’ve never felt close to anyone. The first person that I ever felt close to was my now ex girlfriend. She was such a beautiful person. And I’m not just talking about her appearance. She had gone through so much shit. And she still managed to cheer me up most days. I don’t know how hard that was for her. But I know that she really pushed herself and tried her hardest to be there for me. And I messed everything up. Every single thing I think about ends up with me thinking about my girlfriend. I cry every day thinking about her. If I wasn’t so selfish and stupid. I mean. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel right now. My head feels like it’s tearing itself apart looking for anything that makes sense. But nothing does. Not to me anyway. It all stopped making sense when. I don’t remember when. I don’t think I’ve always been this way. It feels like I’ve always been this way. To explain. I’ve always had to teach myself everything because I’ve never understood when someone else explains something to me. No matter how clear the explanation is, or how many times I hear it. To me, it doesn’t make sense. Nothing ever makes sense to me if I don’t learn the concept myself and then learn the words to describe the concept to other people. I can’t learn a concept by hearing someone else explain it. I wanted to be mentally ill. I never understood mental illness, so I wanted to experience it for myself. That’s why I feel the way I feel right now. Because I wanted to feel like this. Everything is my own fault. I have to do everything by myself. Whenever someone tries to help me, the help is almost never useful to me. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just. Know how something feels without experiencing it on my own. Why do I have to make myself do all these things. I have scars all over my body. I mean, my dream when I was a kid was to have a girlfriend and scars all over my body by the time I turned 17. And I did have a girlfriend. And I do have scars all over my body. So I’ve accomplished the only dream I ever had. I have nothing left to do. I feel like I don’t belong in this world anymore. I feel like most of me already left. I only have one more step to make. Will I do it? I don’t know. I’m a little bit scared honestly. It’s a bit tiring. It feels like from the moment I turned seven years old, or maybe even before that, everything that has happened in my life has been for one reason only. To make me hate myself. To make me feel, from the deepest part of my heart, that there will never be any point to living. That I’m just a useless piece of flesh, brought into this world simply to be tortured for the entertainment of someone. I mean. I can see them laughing at me when I try to sleep. When I think about my girlfriend. When I want to kill myself. They laugh. They encourage me. They tell me everything will get better. They tell me they can’t kill me, no matter how many times I tell them to. They tell me I have to do it on my own. I have to kill myself. There is no other way out, unless I want my whole life to just be a neverending nightmare. I had a dream last night. I still remember it clearly. I was living in a psych ward, but let out sometimes. My girlfriend was taking care of my dog while I stayed at the psych ward. She had overcome a lot of her mental issues and was able to take care of herself. She was really happy. I was 28 years old I think. I was with her, in her house. We were happy together. And then, I woke up. I thought to myself, maybe this is just a dream, and the dream I had was my actual life. Then I started feeling the pain all over my body, reminding me that it’s real, and that I’m alive. I get a little bit tired. I don’t know why I shouldn’t kill myself. I guess the only reason I haven’t is that. I’m still clinging onto the hope that my girlfriend will give me a second chance. I should give up. There’s no way. After everything she did for me, despite how hard life is for her, and how little I did for her, despite how easy it is for me in comparison. I can’t imagine I’ll ever be happy again. It just doesn’t seem possible. Why should I be happy? I don’t deserve happiness. This pain. I did all of this to myself. I deserve this. This is all my fault. I deserve all of this. It’s all my fault. It doesn’t matter what anyone says. It’s all my fault. I did this to myself. I did this to myself. It’s my fault. I need to take the blame. I need to take all the blame. It’s my fault that I feel like this. No one else will change anything for me. I deserve this. I deserve worse. I deserve to die. Or worse. To be tormented every day until I slowly, slowly, die. With no one left that I love. I pushed all of them away, and I’m too much of a coward to be vulnerable and try to make new friends. I tried to. I tries, and it didn’t work. This is my fault. This is my fault. This is only my fault. This is all on me. This is my fault. I didn’t make one mistake. I didn’t make two mistakes. I didn’t make three mistakes. I didn’t make four mistakes. I didn’t make five mistakes. I didn’t make six mistakes. I didn’t make any mistakes. It was all intentional. I wanted this. I wamted this, so why? Why does it hurt so much? I wanted this. This is what I wanted. Isn’t this what I wanted? I always wanted this. Did I? Yes, I did. I always wanted to die a slow and painful death, completely alone, without anyone to help me. I always wanted this. I always hated myself. I’ve always been lonely. I’ve always been angry. I’ve never really felt happy. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Maybe it’s just the right thing to do. Maybe I just wasn’t meant to live. Do I even care if I live or die? I don’t. So why do I cling onto my life so hard. Why? What part of me still wants to live? How do I get rid of it? Why can’t I just die. I want to die. I don’t want to live. I don’t want any of this. There’s nothing left to me. I pushed everything away. All of it! All of it! Because of the way I am. So now. The only thing that I deserve is death.

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GeneralI Will Survive

What is real and what is not.

by LeaveMeAlone.
written by LeaveMeAlone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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