I’m not depressed. I’ve always been fascinated by death and bored by life. Even when I was a kid. I was taught to be christian, but it always seemed so boring to me, I never had any dreams of being a fireman or a police or a doctor or anything, my dream as a 5 year old was to be an old, lonely alcoholic that hated the world as much as he hated himself. I was seven years old the first time I wanted to kill myself. I was eleven years old when I started to think that I really didn’t fit in anywhere, that I would always be seen as weird or creepy by everyone around me. I don’t want anyone to help me, in fact people that want to help me are the ones that I hate the most because they seem to think like there is some hope for me. That I will not always be an outsider that can’t fully connect with anyone. That I will somehow turn my life around. Right now, I’m 17 years old, I spent most of my time lying in bed because I don’t have the energy to get up. Apart from that I usually just listen to music or play video games. I quit school a long time ago, but my parents are forcing me to apply to one anyway. As if anything would change in the next two months. Everyone else has hopes for me, but I really can’t see a way out. I’m 17 years old, I have no skills, I dropped out of high school because I couldn’t handle the pressure, I don’t have any friends that I care about, I have never cared about anyone actually. My whole life, I’ve felt distant from everyone around me, so I dedicated myself to studying so I coukd impress the adults around me, but even though I tried so hard to be perfect in just one way, I failed at the only thing I’ve ever been good at. My therapist keeps telling me that I’m moving forward and that I’ve taken so many steps since the first time we talked but I really don’t think there is any way out for me. I’m done, I don’t want to keep being me anymore. I wouldn’t want to be anyone else, but it’s just because I hate myself and everyone else too. I mean sometimes I just want to feel something that isn’t just bitterness, hate, or anger. I don’t feel lonely. I don’t feel sad. I just feel bitter and tired and I don’t want to deal with myself anymore, I wouldn’t want anyone else to deal with me either, I know myself enough to know that there’s no way anyone could like me, that’s why I’m so mad at everyone. Why can’t they see the obvious? Why does everyone else hope that I’ll get better when I’ve already given up? Why does everyone keep telling me that I’m going to get better when I have no goals, no dreams, no ambition, nothing that keeps me going. Nothing that makes me feel alive. I really don’t understand… But it’s time for me to go, I think. Tonight I’ll try to do it. I’ll try to kill myself. And if I don’t… It’s not like anything will get better anyway.
Laying awake late at night thinking about all the things I could have done but was too scared to do.
?It’s been about five days since my last suicide attempt. That day I didn’t really want to kill myself and not right now either but I felt like it was the only thing left for me to do. I stopped myself at the last second though, thinking that there is still a lot of things that I want to do. Like having a close relationship with someone. Doesn’t matter if it’s a friend or something romantic. It would probably be best for me if it was just a friend though. I had a crush on a girl at my school which I haven’t gone to since March and I really, really regret not at least getting to know her because she was a friend of a friend and I had liked her for a really long time. I still think about her, a lot. Things I could have said to her but was too scared to say. Conversations I could have had. I know it’s not good for me, but my mind just goes wherever it wants to go. There are so many things I could have done that I didn’t do just because of my parents religion. Why should I care about what God wants me to do? It’s not like he ever helped me when I did what I was supposed to do. Why have I never just done what I want to do without restraining myself because of morals and principles that I don’t even care about? Why is it that now that I don’t have those I’m too scared to talk to anyone? Rather, why have I always been so scared about opening up to people? Why did my parents think it was a good idea to humiliate me whenever I was interested in a girl? It’s so much but it’s also nothing. Nothing at all. That’s why it feels so wrong. Because I shouldn’t be feeling the way I am, but I am. And the doctors don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why do I feel like this… Why do I have to deal with all of this regret. Why can’t I just be brave and honest like I want to be?
At least writing these things takes my mind somewhere else for a moment.
In my delusions I somehow managed to convince myself that I’m perfect and there’s nothing wrong with me, again. Yeah I’m a narcissist… my mother isn’t. I’m the problem. I made my mother cry today. It’s not the first time. We got into an argument and it didn’t get very heated but then again that might be another one of my delusions. I just told her I didn’t like her. I don’t have any reason to, but I also don’t have any reason not to. I guess it’s because she is really trying hard to get to know me and actually help me. I’m really a really really bad person. My parents both work hard while I do absolutely nothing except provide for myself with the resources that I get provided with (raw food, bed, bathroom…) I’m doing enough to survive but apart from that I don’t do a lot. Maybe I’m spoiled? There’s nothing for me to do. I don’t have any hobbies. I’ve never been interested in anything that’s not myself. There really isn’t a lot to me though. I’m below average but I see myself as superior to everyone around me, but also inferior to everyone around me. It depends on my mood I guess. I never feel confident. Nobody really cares about me that much outside of my family but for some reason I hate my family more than anything else. I don’t have any reason to not like my family. But I hate them. Maybe that’s another one of my delusions? Just because I was neglected as a child. Now I project my own feelings onto everyone around me instead of dealing with them on my own. I wish that no one cared about me because then they would fit into my world view. Rather than thinking that I’m wrong, I’m thinking that the whole world is wrong. But that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been planning to kill myself for 10 years but maybe there is another way. I don’t want to care about all this. Planning and the future and the past… all of it seems so distant. It feels like I shouldn’t have to deal with all of that. So I’ll spend another day, completely alone, going outside my room to get food and then going back to listen to music. Going outside once a day because it’s supposed to be good for me. And then having absolutely nothing to do, but that’s no ones fault apparently. I can’t blame myself or my family for me being someone that never had a hobby or was ever interested in anything. Why do I have to deal with all of this? Maybe it’s some type of punishment, but for who? It’s not like I’m suffering that much. I just spend every moment of the day trying to come up with an excuse to not kill myself. It’s not like I matter to anyone. Why would I matter to anyone? No one cares about me anyway. And there I go again. Being delusional. And for what? It doesn’t benefit me or anyone else. So why do I so desperately try to convince myself to die? Why? Obviously there are people who would care. Even if the things I imagine tell me otherwise. Not like there are a lot of people to talk to outside my own head. I’m just stuck in there without a way out. And I’m the one that put myself in this situation. But it’s not my fault, or my family’s fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. There is no one to blame. That’s why it feels so wrong. If I could blame literally anyone, even myself it would be so much easier to fight it. But there’s no one to blame.
So what am I supposed to do now? Draw maybe. I can’t read any books because my parents took my computer away from me and I cba going to the library and borrowing another book that I’ll read 5 pages of and never pick up again, so that my parents will then ask me a bunch of questions about a book that I haven’t even read. I could go for a walk. Or swim. But really… it’s all so boring. I guess I’ll draw. At least I’ll do something cool then.
But how am I supposed to look someone in the eye and tell them my plan with life is to end it, especially someone that cares about me? Like what.
He is perfect. I’m worthless. He is funny. I’m boring. He is intelligent. I’m stupid. He is always happy. I’m always in a bad mood. He is generous and cares for others… he’s strong and full of energy. People can trust him when he makes promises. I couldn’t care less about anyone, not even me. I never seem to have any energy, I’m weak and I never keep my promises. He is a liar, I’m honest. He is curious about others and altruistic. He is sadistic. The only thing that makes me feel okay is pain. But both of them are me.
“I contribute nothing. I’m useless. I need to stop acting like I’m depressed and start working.” Those are my mother’s words, not mine. If I talk back I get punished, if I try to help I get humiliated and degraded. Why should I be alive anyway? It’s not like I make anyone’s day better. It’s not like I’m helping anyone. Even the times I have helped someone, it must have been something I imagined because no one else remembers me ever helping anyone. Like, what am I even supposed to do? Everything just gets taken away from me. My parents just undermine all my efforts and call me useless. They’ve always done this, I’ve always been everyone’s scapegoat. And if I get sad or mad about it, I get punished because clearly I’m so sensitive, and so mean and lazy and arrogant. Not even God loves me. Not to be religious, but I was told in a dream that no matter what I did, I would never go to heaven. No matter how hard I try, nothing I ever do will be appreciated by anyone because I’m just not good enough. Not good enough to even hit the bare minimum of what I’m supposed to do. And not a single person cares about me. No friend, no family member, no one. I mean, why should they, I’m an asshole to literally everyone. I don’t respond when someone speaks to me, I don’t respect anyone, and the only friends I ever had I got through extorting them. I guess this is karma? For everything I’ve done. I fucked up when I didn’t know any better so now I’m depressed and I deserve to die. That’s what it feels like anyway. I don’t really believe in anything, I don’t dream anything at all, I don’t even have nightmares anymore. My sleep isn’t anywhere near good enough for that. I even take pills that are supposed to make me sleep better and eat more but I’ve been taking them for about 5 weeks and I feel worse than when I started to take them. And I know that my life isn’t going to magically become better anytime soon. Why would it? That’s not how this works. The way it works is that I feel a crushing weight on my shoulders and get bullied for carrying it. By my own mother. Who can’t stop talking about how much better she is than me. How little I help her out. How good my brothers grades are. She really can’t stop comparing me to others. She’s just so determined to make me feel guilty about being depressed. Why would I respect someone like that? And if I told her about any of this she would just laugh at me and tell me that I’m way too sensitive. Then she would go on about how, “a regular person wouldn’t be offended by this”, and then she would start talking about herself and how she is so much better than me im every possible way. Great parenting. Fuck this man. I hate life.
I’m so bored. I’ve done pretty much everything except for drugs. Maybe I should. I just want to feel something that’s not just… really heavy emptiness and boredom. I’ve listened to so many songs, I’ve watched movies, jerked off, I can eat as much junk food as I want to. But I don’t want to do any of those things. They’re all boring now. Yesterday and the day before that I went out, took a walk. Maybe two hours. I didn’t feel anything except pain in my legs. For like a month and a half I’ve been thinking of just, buying a bottle of vodka, drinking the whole thing in one night and then just not care about anything. Wake up the next morning somewhere, anywhere that’s not my home. But I’m always scared to do it. Scared that someone will steal from me. That I’ll do something really stupid and regret it later. But I just want to live for a moment. To feel something, anything. Anything that isn’t this shitty nothingness. Meet up with strangers, do stupid shit, forget about everything that matters to me. Live a completely different life, where I’m actually alive and not just some shell left of what used to be a person. But I’m scared, I’m really scared. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith though, right? I’m trying to reason it by telling myself I’m a coward for not doing it, but if I did it I would also be an idiot, maybe I’m an idiot for not having ever put myself out there and just gone all in on whatever the fuck happens. Maybe I’m not cut out for life. I just want to do anything, literally anything that’s not being in my room for 20 hours a day and never talking to anyone at all. I’m too used to having nothing happen. I should probably just get messed up and stop worrying so much, just let loose and live a little. That’s a terrible idea but it’s literally the best I can come up with.
Everytime. Everytime I feel something I just belittle the emotions and push them aside, shut them off. I tell myself I’m an ungrateful asshole, that I don’t have any reason at all to kill myself, and then I hold it in until my mind is falling apart right now. Like right now. I watched Inception today and, for some reason it made me cry really hard after I had watched it. I remembered the way that I actually felt, but it’s not very clear to me now, maybe ten minutes later. I barely remember it, it’s so blurry. My mind is a such a ***** lmao. Well how would you otherwise say it? My mind tells me “you’re not allowed to feel, you’re not allowed to have memories.” But why? Why am I not allowed to have memories and emotions? Fucking piece of shit. Ungrateful asshole, that’s what I am. I should be thanking myself for protecting me. ???? Nothing makes sense. That’s what makes sense. The part about the movie that made me cry is well, the whole movie I was I don’t know, there’s probably some medical term for it but I wasn’t sure what’s real and what’s not, I could barely focus on anything, and then when well. I don’t really want to spoil the movie, but when Mal said she didn’t know what’s real or not and the only way out was suicide… That’s the same shit that I’ve been thinking. Literally the same. So I was just in shock for some time and then I started crying after the movie wnded and then I wasn’t allowed to feel anymore, and now my emotions are not there. They are there, but I don’t feel them. Deep down I probably feel them but really the only thing I feel is my mind and body basically working their asses off to try to kill me. I’m fucking working on dying and I don’t know how not to. Should I? Definitely don’t try to stop it, it’s the only thing that you want to do. You’ve been telling yourself for months the only thing that you want to do is kill yourself but you don’t have the willpower to do it so now your unconscious mind is doing it for you, you should be grateful. I don’t remember. Grateful is probably nice. But I’m working on dying for sure. I don’t want to stop. This is fucked up.
During the time we were together I felt more feelings than I had ever felt in my life before. I felt like shit but I also felt amazing. I know that I’m probably not mature enough to be in a relationship anyway… or ready in any other way. I don’t want her to kill herself. I know that I wanted her to hate me. I know that she did. I know that she doesn’t. Why is she the only thing that I can think about again? One minute of her attention makes me feel like I’m in heaven and one minute without it makes me feel even more shit than I usually feel. I don’t want to be codependent again. I don’t understand, why do I still love her, why am I still so obsessed with her? I even feel guilty about it. I hate this feeling…
I’m going to see a therapist tomorrow. I guess you could say it’s “my” therapist but I’m not her only client so the better word is “their”, I think. Or, is there any way to say that you associate with someone without implying possesion? The therapist associated with me at the moment. I think I’m supposed to be optimistic but I’m really not. I’m following a step-by-step guide that I created, I have no idea how many steps there are, I just know that I’m on the third one (destroying habits), and what day the other ones started and ended and the names of those two as well, (disassociate October 10 – March 25, disconnect March 25 – May 17), I’m not sure why I’m doing it. Maybe I’m crazy. It’s just a voice in my head telling me what to do. I don’t have to do it but I can’t think of anything else to do. I’m not sure what I should talk about with the therapist associated with me at the moment. Should I be honest? I don’t know how that would go.
Hey, I’ve been feeling suicidal for more than half a year, I’m trying to not be addicted to porn, I almost killed myself one time, I hate living with my family but I have nowhere to go, I technically have friends but I want nothing to do with them because they are a “distraction”, I get a weird feeling whenever I try to work on anything that makes my sight go blurry, my body stop coordinating correctly, and my head to not think straight which frustrates me a lot, because there is literally nothing I can do about it. I have really low self esteem and nothing that anyone says to me is going to change that because it’s related to childhood trauma, I was bullied as a child.
Kind of a weird way to introduce myself… hello, this is why I’m here… confessing all of my problems to a complete stranger. Well I’ve already done it over the internet. It can’t be that hard in person… worst thing that can happen is that I pass out. Most likely thing to happen is that I get a weird headache and start panicking. Why doss it have to be so hard to just say some words… just to say them out loud in front of another person. Do I even want to be honest? Well I have to be. It’s so hard to find a reason to be honest when I’d rather lie or not speak at all. I know that you should never lie to your doctor. I would tell myself to swallow and say it with a straight face but I know that’s not possible. I don’t know what I want, really. I don’t know what to do. I’m just being forced to do things. I can’t even tell myself what to do because there’s a voice in my head telling me not to. Ugh, what a pain in the ass… thinking is so hard.
Disillusioned – I think that’s the perfect way to describe how I feel.
When you’re a kid, you’re told that everyone is special and that anyone can change the world, then you grow up and realize that no one is special. I spent almost four whole months just dissassociating, taking long hikes, one hour or more, several times a day and even at night, and I barely slept at all because of nightmares, I barely ate because I had so much anxiety. Now that that’s over, I don’t know what to do. I can barely walk anymore, well I can, if I eat a lot of food after, I can’t go for those hikes anymore. Everything that I enjoyed doing I got laughed at for. I didn’t feel safe anywhere, I still don’t. My room feels like it belongs to someone else, almost nothing in it is mine. It’s mostly just stuff I’m borrowing from other people, and I can’t even tell anyone that anything is mine, because then my parents have the need to remind me that it’s not actually mine, it’s theirs and they can take it from me while I have no right to protest at all. I used to have dreams. I used to have nightmares. Now I have nothing at all. Not even the slightest bit of hope for the future either. I’m not allowed to do anything that I enjoy doing. For some reason I have to tell my parents whenever I go outside even though I’m 17 years old? It feels like I’m not a real person. I’m trapped inside a bubble of “protection” that hurts me more than it helps. It really is extremely boring to live like this. I used to have illusions, dreams, of a different life, a life where everything I do isn’t controlled by someone else, but I don’t have any choice. The only thing I can do is wait. I hate it.
All I do is wait for the next day. Nothing happens today. Nothing will happen tomorrow. Nothing will happen the day after that. It’s such a boring life, and it feels like I have no choice but to live like this. But what can I say that I or someone else hasn’t already said before? It’s so pointless.
I don’t understand why…
I guess it’s true that they will only miss you when you leave.
What do I even do?
I don’t deserve all this good treatment I’m getting. I don’t deserve anything at all.
I wish everyone would stop trying to help me and just leave me alone.
Is it that hard?
Is it? Is it that hard to just leave me alone and let me die… They are always so curious about me. They want to know what I do, what I want to do, how I feel, what I like, what I don’t like.
Why? Why is anyone interested in me. Just leave me alone.
I don’t want any attention. I don’t want it.
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?
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.
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.
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
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.
28. Who is ***?
29. who is ***?
30. It’s me, right?
31. It’s me.
32. Why didn’t I know?
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 ****
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.