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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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. 🙂
I told her every day how hard it was for me to trust her. Every single day. I trusted her so little. Not because I didn’t want to trust her, but because I’m fucking paranoid. I told her everyday how hard it was. Every day. Every day until she. Every day until. Every. She left me. It’s been 6 days now. Almost a whole week. It hurts so much, and I want to cry, but… I can’t cry. I just can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I ca n t… I don’t have any words to say. I loved her so much. More than anyone or anything before. And then… it’s all my fault. All of it is my fault. She, I. I couldn’t trust her and then I started becoming delusional even though I knew that it wasn’t possible I couldn’t trust her. Why? Why couldn’t I trust her? She was the ONLY REASON I DIDNT KILL MYSELF SO WHY. WHY. ITS LIKE THIS EVERY TIME I FIND SOMEONE I LIKE. I JUST PUSH THEM AWAY. FUCK. I hate myself. I hate myself so much. It’s so painful to live, and the only thing I have left for is just the hope that she comes back to me. I don’t know how I let myself be so in love with her. I mean. I found her at the exact same time as my friends gave up on me pretty much. And now. Now I don’t have anyone. All my friends got tired of putting up with me, and my girlfriend left me because I pushed her away from me. Why can’t I just be like everyone else? It just looks so easy for everyone. And then there’s me. My life has just been a constant battle for the past year, and I’m kind of starting to give in. I don’t have anything left to live for. I don’t see why I should. Even try. It doesn’t seem worth it. It’s too painful. And I know… I know that it’s not going to get better anytime soon. How much fucking time and money will my family waste on me before they give up too? I mean, I’ve talked to a therapist but I can’t bring myself to trust a stranger with sensitive information, even though it’s “completely confidential”, because I’ve read and heard so many stories about therapists abusing their clients or laughing at them behind their backs that I really… really can’t bring myself to trust any therapist at all. I mean, my head is just a mess right now. I can’t make sense of anything, and it gets worse every day. Me being extremely paranoid doesn’t help at all. It feels like no matter what I do, I will always end up hurting myself. And I’m not mentally capable of faking anything right now. The best thing I can do is hide my face and not talk. I’ve always been so afraid of being judged. I dropped out of school recently. I only went back to school about 3 weeks ago to say goodbye to my friends. I didn’t have the courage to tell them though. I couldn’t bring myself to look my friends in the eyes and tell them that I was going to kill myself and that there was nothing they could do to change my mind. I really did think that I was going to, but then I didn’t, and instead I started feeling hollow. Even though I technically didn’t die… a part of me did. I was going to kill myself on March 25. Now I put the date at August 3. I don’t think that anyone is going to stop me this time. I mean. It’s not like anyone cares about me. Everyone just tells me that they’re tired of putting up with my bullshit, or that they are worried about me. Either way, I don’t trust people when they say positive things about me. I can’t bring myself to believe that there could be anything good about me. I think I probably deserve this. I mean, it’s my own fault. I did this to myself. There’s no one else to blame. I could blame my girlfriend… Actually no, I couldn’t. I still love her too much to blame anything on her. I don’t know if it would have been better or worse if I never met her. I probably would have convinced myself not to die… or maybe not. I mean that day, was. I didn’t feel sad at all. It was more like I had a duty to fulfill, and I didn’t fulfill that duty. And then I felt, hollow. Weird. Not really empty. More like… I wasn’t whole. Like some parts of me had just been taken away. And I still feel like that. It’s weird to me, how, if I’m going to have a bad day, or a day where every day after that day it gets considerably worse, I always know 3 days ahead of the time. I never know what will happen that day. I just know that I will feel decent, and every day after will be worse. March 25, April 4, March 5 and 17, were days like that. On March 5, I had a panic attack, and I cried for like 3 hours because I felt so useless and incapable after going to school for one day and feeling like absolute fucking shit. On March 25, I was left alone in my house, completely alone, and I cried for hours. Then, I played some video games. It didn’t make me feel better. But, I feel the best when there is no one that can hear, see, touch, or smell me. I hate when there’s even a possibility of anyone being near me. Not because I don’t like people. But because I can only be myself when I am completely alone. When I’m not alone and I act like myself, people judge me. They say I’m weird, they say they don’t understand me. Why should they understand me? It pisses me off. I get offended. I don’t like getting offended. So I don’t like being around other people because there is always something that irritates me. There’s always at least one thing that I just can’t stand about someone. Which is why I like acting shallow so they don’t show the side of themselves that makes me irritated. But when I get close to someone… It’s not that they irritate me. It’s just that because they know they know me even a little bit… I see them as a threat. A threat that I either have to control, or remove, before it becomes too big. That’s why I pushed all my friends away from me. That’s why I pushed my girlfriend away from me. That’s why I can never get to know anyone. I see them as a threat, and I either want them to get away from me, or be completely submissive to me. Now that I think about it, the only friendships I ever had when I was a kid I established through beating other kids up and telling them that if they didn’t hang out with me I would beat them up more, and if they told their parents or a teacher, I would also beat them. So I guess, I’ve never had any friends. Until recently, anyway. But can you really call someone a friend if you can’t trust them at all no matter how hard they try? I mean, I’m the problem. I thought some more about my girlfriend today. I literally think about her every day, even now that she stopped talking to me. I talked to one of the people that I guess I could call a friend that I haven’t really pushed away yet, who was also a friend of my girlfriend, but well… She stopped talking to him too. I think she doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. That’s how much I hurt her. I don’t even know why I entered a relationship in the first place. I knew that I wasn’t mature enough to handle that sort of thing. But well. She definitely was. She was the only person I’ve ever met apart from like one guy that really accepted me for who I was. Most people think that “the real me” is the false image of myself that I project in public while I pretend to be okay. But that part of me isn’t even a whole person. It’s just a charming character that’s extremely shallow and doesn’t have any interests at all. I mean, the whole point of that character is to maintain social relations with classmates and teachers without seeming like an interesting person so I guess it’s fine if I act that way in public. But the problem is, my family members think that that person is the real me. It’s not. It’s extremely mentally exhausting for me to maintain that character, which is basically perfect, and it gives me a huge headache and tons of anxiety after. I mean, I can’t maintain it for a whole day at school even. I used to be able to. I used to be able to maintain that character constantly, I guess you vould say it’s “the best version of myself”, but really it’s just like the skin of a snake. I shed it as soon as I am alone. I didn’t use to though. I used to be that character full time, every single day. Until I was around 14 years old. Then I started slowly breaking down. For just a few minutes at a time. I mean, you can’t maintain a perfect personality, that’s just not human. Or maybe it was just that I faced some kind of pain… I don’t know. But anyway, that character started slowly disappearing and getting consumed by… what I would call the real me. Which is a child, really. A spoiled child, quick to irritate, slow to forgive, impatient, untrusting, manipulative, angry, full of hate towards both himself and everyone around him. I don’t like either of those two, and most of the time I’m just… the manifestation of the exhaustion that results from having to deal with those characters constantly arguing with each other inside of my head. So really, I don’t understand, which one of these three is the real me? Maybe there are even more characters that I don’t even know of. I mean, most days I feel like I’m just an observer and someone else is controlling my body while I watch the theater play unfolding inside of my head. But either way, my girlfriend just accepted all of this. I don’t know how. I guess she just really loved me. I for some reason don’t really miss her anymore. Even though I actually do. I mean, I love her, but I also hate her, and feel completely indifferent, at the same time. But the main thing I feel when I think about her is guilt and regret. I don’t regret having the relationship. I learned a lot of valuable lessons. I just regret how it ended. Because it was all my fault. And I feel so guilty. I couldn’t be honest with myself, so I couldn’t be honest with her, so I started projecting, and then I started getting delusional, and I thought, “she is going to leave me”, so I gave her an ultimatum and she chose to leave me. Actually, I’m not sure I even gave her any choice. I just pushed her away, like I do with everyone else. That’s the one thing I hate about my family. It’s impossible to push them away from me. I wanted to get away from them, and I saw my girlfriend as the way out. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Even though I met her just, not even two months ago. And now. I just regret. I regret not showing her that I loved her more. Maybe if I had done that. Maybe. Maybe she wouldn’t have left me alone. Even when I was so obsessed with her. I mean, she was pretty much all I thought about, so because of the way my head works I was bound to hate her, even if it was just for one hour. Then the next hour, indifferent. Then the next hour, completely obsessed. Just so extremely in love, really. Then the next hour, forget about her completely. And that’s how it was like for me, every day of my relationship with her. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me. I took the most valuable thing I had in my life, the woman that saved my life. And I told her she was worthless to me. That I couldn’t trust her. That I hated her. I can never, and will never forgive myself for that. If she ever gave me a second chance… I doubt she will. But if she did. I would take it without a second thought. Because I still love her so fucking much. It was just… I was just angry at her because I was angry at myself and I started projecting the way I felt about myself onto her. I couldn’t help it. It would be great if it actually was that way. But I know the truth. I definitely could have helped it. I would have never done it… It’s not like me to do something like that. I told her I never wanted to hurt her, that I would never hurt her. And then. Then I did. I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell her that. I’m so so sorry. But maybe this is just a character. Maybe I don’t really feel this way at all. Maybe it’s just something that I imagined. I mean. Was I dreaming? Am I dreaming right now? I. I don’t know. I know that when I tell myself I’m dreaming it’s to cope with an extreme amount of sadness or anxiety because I don’t want to show it to anyone. Why can’t I just be honest with myself? Why was I here? What was I doing? I don’t know what this is about. I don’t know what. I’m so high right now. I feel so light. Like I’m going to start floating any second. I feel so free. So free from all the pain. I want to feel like this forever. I don’t feel happy or sad or angry or calm or apathetic I just feel… light. Like I’m floating on a cloud. I don’t even have any problems. I can’t remember any problems I had. I feel so great right now! I feel so happy! I shoukd celebrate I want to vomit. I feel sick. My head hurts. Ow. It’s really painful. My eyes hurt. My stomach hurts. My stomach hurts a lot. I’m sick. I feel sick. I feel tired. I feel so sick. My chest hurts. My heart is pounding really hard. OW. My chest really hurts. It’s painful. My fingers hurt too. My wrists hurt. My whole body hurts. I’m tired.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. It just doesn’t go away. I miss her. I miss her. I miss her so much. I miss her so fucking much. I don’t care anymore. I just want to be with her. I would do anything for a second chance. I would do anything to go back in time and erase my mistakes. I would do anything. Anything! Is it even possible? I mean, I love her and she did love me. I wonder if she still loves me. I wonder if she misses me as much as I miss her. I hope she does. Not because I want her to suffer, but because I want her to come back to me. I feel so lost and lonely without her. I couldn’t make sense of anything before and now it’s even worse. It gets worse every day. I have fucking 5 family members that care about me. And I still feel so fucking alone whenever I think about her. And I think about her all the time. Literally all the time. I would do anything to spend time with her again. But I can’t. I can’t do anything. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I just. I LOVE HER SO MUCH AND THERES NOTHING I CAN DO. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I. I CANT. I CANT SLEEP. I CAN BARELY EAT BUT NOTHING TASTES GOOD ANYMORE. IM ALWAYS TIRED. I HATE LIVING. I HATE LIFE. I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT HATE IT HATE I HATE TI HATE HATE I HATE IT HATE HATE I HATE IT I HATE IT HATE IT I HATE LIFE HATE LIFE I HATE FUCKING HATE LIFE SO MUCH I WISH I WAS DEAD I WISH I WAS FUCKING DEAD SO I WOULD NEVER HAVE TO FEEL ANYTHING AGAIN
I don’t know how to start this really. I’m not sure if I’m even in the right place. I read some posts before making this one and well. It made me feel like my feelings were not really valid. I don’t know. I guess I just want to write down why I want to kill myself just for me and not really for anyone else, just to release it I guess. I don’t really trust the people I know irl, and I don’t trust my therapist either, I just tell them that I’m always tired and I can never concentrate on anything. Recently I’ve been opening up more, but it just makes everyone more confused about me. My parents tell me I contradict myself a lot. I don’t know if I do. They also tell me that they can’t trust me. I never liked my parents. I’m not sure why. They give me food, a place to live, and some attention and that seems to be enough for most people. I’m kind of losing track here, so I’ll restart over and over until I think it’s right. When I was a kid, everyone always gave me compliments. I didn’t really like playing with other children. There was one teacher that I had in kindergarten or whatever you would call it. Preschool, maybe? It wasn’t anything like school though. Well, we didn’t have any responsibilities really but we did some activities like drawing and playing and singing and dancing and napping. Sometimes we went outside for expeditions too. Anyway, my favorite teacher there apparently never existed. It was just someone I made up according to everyone I talked about it. Which is weird, because I would just be in that teacher… or I guess I shouldn’t call her a teacher because she didn’t teach anything. Person of authority I guess. Anyway, I would be in her lap for hours and just hug her and that was my favorite part of the whole day. That was the only time I ever felt safe, I think. I’ve never felt safe at home. I used to feel safe with my parents, but after I turned about seven or eight years old, they started treating me differently, so I never felt safe around them because of that. I’ve never felt safe when I’m alone either. I’m not sure if I did feel safe with my parents before I was seven or eight either, I just felt like they could protect me from any danger. And well. I had a lot of nightmares and delusions, I guess, when I was little. I hit my head really hard when I was four years old and it started bleeding, so my balance has been pretty terrible for my whole life. I fell from a bed that was 2 meters high up I think, it was a bunk bed, I was jumping between the bed and the closet and then eventually I fell and I bounced between the closet and the bed five times, hitting the same spot at the back of my head every time. I think I still have a scar there, but it’s not visible because I have so much hair. Whenever I was sleeping in bed, I always turned my lights off. But I was really scared. I was frightened actually. Because I could hear sounds coming from outside my window, and I always assumed that it was from a woman trying to trick me into following her into the forest. There was a forest right next to my house. I thought that that woman was the witch that controlled the wild boars. I saw her in my room sometimes, in front of the window. It was very scary. My mother told me that her grandmother died when I was about a year old, she died from cancer. I used to think that she was haunting our house. When I got scared of the woman outside my window trying to lure me out, I walked out into the hallway. My house was really long, so there was a 20-ish meter hallway which connected the kitchen, living room, and the room that you enter the house from, two bedrooms, one office, a bathroom, and the washing room, which connects to my parent’s and my younger brother’s bedroom, and another bathroom, and another exit. At the end of the hallway, there was a bureau. That bureau was white. At night, it looked blurry, and it shined, so naturally I thought it was the ghost of my great grandmother haunting our house, so going to the bathroom and running to my parent’s bedroom for safety was like going through a nightmare. Everytime I exited the bathroom I was scared that someone was going to hurt me the moment I got out. Not because it was something that could happen, but because I had a very wild imagination and I thought that literally everything was out to hurt me, as my mother had told me that every stranger I see is dangerous, and that boars are very dangerous creatures, and I am attracted to women, so something that is attractive AND dangerous is to be avoided at all costs, right? Well, that’s basically what I’m still to this day hardwired to believe. It doesn’t make sense but all those nights where I was scared that my life was in danger just because of the dark, I got more and more scared, but I learned how to face those fears too. I’m no longer that scared of going to the bathroom at night… just a little bit. Or a lot. It depends honestly. I’m losing track of where I was going. Oh yeah, well basically this all led to me being really, without any reason at all, suspicious, wary, afraid of, and aggressive, towards people I don’t know. I guess you could say I’m paranoid and antisocial? Or something like that. I haven’t been like that my whole life though. Writing this is really difficult, it makes my head hurt. Anyway. I developed a really good sense of humor to protect myself from other people. If they are busy laughing, they won’t care much about me, I think. So well, I use that humor to draw people in and then I continuously draw them in and push them away as different parts of my mind conflict on how I should treat people. It’s extremely frustrating for me, and I have lost a lot of good friends because of this. Well, they only liked me because they thought that I was funny and intelligent. I guess I should talk about my intelligence now too. I’ve always been the smartest person I know I think. I’ve never met anyone that’s smarter than me I think. When I was about six or so years old, I started going to school, and quickly, math became my favorite subject. When I was six years old, I used to go to a website to practice math, and eventually I reached algebra, which I didn’t understand, and then I thought that I didn’t need to study any more math for the rest of my life. Then I got interested in languages. I learned english extremely fast. I think it took me about 2 years to become fluent in english. When I was nine years old, I was better than my english teacher, who had lived in England for several years, at english. I was also excelling at all other subjects in school, except for arts. I’ve never been good at drawing. I probably never will be unless I practice consistently for a very long time, and considering my current mental state, that’s very unlikely. I’ve also always been very physically attractive and athletic without putting much effort into it. All of it just came naturally for me. Everyone always complimented me about how intelligent, how knowledgeable, how smart, how funny, how cute, how handsome, how sexy I was. Basically, because of the way I was, the people around me worshipped me. So I developed some narcissistic traits. I think it’s pretty clear to see how narcissism combined with not trusting anyone, and always pushing people away can lead to some very bad situations. And it did. But it took a very long time. I actually knew that I was a narcissist and I simply did not care. That carelessness eventually carried over to everything else and developed into apathy. And apathy led to my physical health and grades dropping. Which led to my popularity decreasing. Which led to my mental health decreasing even further. Eventually, I got to the point where I am now. Honestly, I don’t think it’s going to get better any time soon. But well, rather than “going through a rough time”, it’s more like I’ve simply been completely destroyed in every possible way. The worst part is, I don’t care enough to solve it, so it’s just going to keep getting worse, but I don’t care. It’s really frustrating actually. But actually it’s not frustrating, because I really do not care at all. The only part of me that’s really frustrated is well, the most primal part, because it has gotten to the point where my life is in danger because I don’t eat or sleep enough, and I think about self harm and killing myself every single day. It’s weird how I fell from being probably the most perfect gifted child ever to this weird creature that I have devolved to. Really, when I look myself in the mirror I can’t help but feel disgusted. I usually stare myself in the eyes for quite some time in the mirror. The only reason I do it is because I want to know how I feel. People say your eyes are a mirror of your soul, or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, and I don’t really want anything because I honestly couldn’t care less about myself or anyone else for that matter. Man, I’m such a horrible person. That doesn’t bother me at all because I don’t care. Sometimes I feel sorry for my parents because they are really trying to make me feel better. But really. Why should I care about anything? It’s not like I have a reason to. Nothing is fun or exciting. It’s only fun when I convince myself that it is. I have to tell myself that something is fun to think that it’s fun. Otherwise it’s not fun for me. It’s such a pain in the ass. I don’t even know why I bother living. Really, the only reason I want to kill myself is because I’m extremely lazy. Isn’t that horrible? It should be. But for some reason, I don’t feel that way. The way I feel and act is completely different from everything I’ve been taught to believe. It really, really makes no sense at all. That’s about the only thing that bothers me. I feel like a broken machine. Like I’ve somehow been reprogrammed to only indulge in self destructive behaviors. I guess one thing I should say too, is I’ve been addicted to porn since I was about nine years old, so that’s about eight years now. I’ve tried quitting it quite a few times. I think the longest I’ve gone without watching porn for the past eight years is about 3 months. That’s fucking sad honestly. Yeah, I’m really a pathetic excuse for a human being, I shouldn’t even be allowed to use the term. Oh, apparently I only care when it’s something negative related to myself. That’s good to know, but not useful in any way at all. Anyway, back to the original point. I had a girlfriend that I got like a month ago after I pretty much quit everything else in life for not caring about them, and I really thought she was the most important person in my life for a while, and she was also mentally ill, she had like PTSD, Schizophrenia, Depression, Social Anxiety, Anxiety, lots of fun stuff. We both pretty much just vented to each other about our problems and sometimes talked about sex or how much we loved each other. Pretty normal relationship stuff I think. Well, because I’m a fucking idiot, I managed to push her away from me too, and she was the only reason I didn’t kill myself on the day I planned to (March 25), and now she hasn’t even tried to contact me for about five days and I feel really lonely, and really dissatisfied, disappointed, ashamed, and frustrated with myself because I accused her of not caring about me at all, I told her I didn’t trust her enough to believe that she loved me, she told me fine. She hasn’t spoken to me since. It’s really making me regret it. I already hated myself before I told her that. I mainly told her that because I wanted her to hate me as much as I hate myself. I’m such an idiot. I told her that I mess everything up, and that I can never make anything work out so I wasn’t sure how long our relationship would last and she told me everything was going to be fine. She was wrong. I was right. It’s such a shame too. I really loved her. Or maybe I just wanted any attractive woman that would give me sex and attention. I think it might have been that really, because I don’t actually miss her I just miss the way she made me feel. I haven’t slept for 3 days. I have barely eaten since I broke up with her. Maybe feeling this way is just some sort of coping mechanism? I don’t know honestly. Nothing really makes sense to me. I’ve been writing this shit for 2 hours now. I don’t even remember what it was about. I really miss my girlfriend. I love her more than anything. I can’t really function properly without her. I needed someone like her to function properly. I mean, the last five days without her have been pure psychological torture. I’ve been having hallucinations for the past 4 months too. Mostly just noises. A um. Not a psycholog psychiatrist a psychiatrist told me that something about anxiety. Anxiety noises at night it’s normal. I’m not sure. Um. Hearing noises at night could be a symptom of anxiety. I guess I have anxiety? I mean, I hear people whistling, knocking on my walls, I heard a weird noise that sounded kind of like if you had played a sound of a pigeon singing in slow motion really loudly right next to me, but I guess it’s just anxiety so it’s nothing to worry about. I don’t know if I care. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I guess I’m ambivalent. I’m not neutral and I’m definitely not indifferent. I really want to be with my girlfriend. I miss my girlfriend. Shouldn’t I be sleeping right now? Maybe I should. I guess I’ll try to. There are no more words coming. Just noises and pain.
I don’t know what any of this means