thehusk

It’s hard not to be consumed by hatred, when you’re in pain, and don’t know how to stop it. There’s this part of me that just wants to hurt people, I suppose to have some external outlet for that pain. Or maybe to make them as miserable as me, since misery loves company. Then maybe I won’t feel so alone. Perhaps that’s the delusional logic.

And there’s no justification for that. I’m in this situation because of decisions I made. Other people certainly helped me to get here, but I was as free as anyone can be to choose a better path. So I can blame […]

I’m so unbelievably fucked in the head. Emotionally, in terms of my desires. When I’m honest with myself about what I really want, it’s the darkest fucking shit.

And it’s not like I’m going to do any of it. Most of it is next to impossible even if I had the consistent motivation.

But it leaves me feeling so fucking alienated from other people. From society, humanity, my family, who I used to be.

There is this part of me that just wants to use and exploit people. That isn’t capable of love, or trust, or even friendship. That would happily wipe out or enslave every other creature […]

No more pain. No more fear. No more regret, longing, shame, self-hatred or despair. Freedom. That’s the yearning that brings me back here.

It seems unlikely that would be the reality. Freedom is experienced. What I really want is to experience existence, free of all these negatives that make it seem unbearable. Whereas death seems likely to involve either the end of existence, or the end of any kind of self that I could identify with.

So death would not bring freedom. But it would likely bring an end, And that sometimes seems appealing to a delusional part of me. Because the pain seems unbearable, and intolerable. […]

I tell myself that there are certain things I won’t endure, where I’ll overcome my fear of death and end it if they seem imminent. If my past ever catches up with me, for example. Or nuclear war. Or degenerative illness. Points where it seems outright stupid not to kill myself, to spare myself pointless suffering.

But what’s troubling is that my life is already at the point where on balance, it would probably be better for me if I stopped existing. I’m in near-constant discomfort. The pain isn’t agonizing or anything, but it is enough to make sleep difficult. I’m chronically depressed, and I feel […]

Life could so easily have been so good. But I allowed myself to become so twisted that I was incapable of seeing that, or of enjoying it. I couldn’t see past all the shame and anger, to take the few small steps that could’ve righted my course. And now I can’t stop tormenting myself over what could’ve been, all those years ago. What should’ve been. I do it in my dreams, and then wake up with this gnawing sense of emptiness and absence, where a meaningful life should be.

I should be that person. I should be in that universe. I should’ve made those choices. But […]

As I’ve previously mentioned, a big part of my depression/despair is the lack of any kind of connection or intimate relationship. I fall asleep longing for it, wake up the same, and spend most of the day trying not to think about it.

And one of the main reasons I’m not actively working to find that is there’s things about myself that I know I could never be honest with a prospective partner about, that I know would almost universally be a deal-breaker. Even if there was someone out there crazy/desperate enough to accept these parts of me, I know I couldn’t risk confessing to 100 […]

I built up this shame within myself. All the humiliation, the rage, the bewildered hurt, the self-hatred, the fear. Why are they treating me like that? What had I done to deserve it? Why am I just letting it happen?

All of that poison, I channelled into this parasite growing in my mind. Layer on layer, over years. And gradually it became who I was. I found ways to enjoy letting the hatred seep out, without really being aware of what I was becoming. Worse and worse.

And I made myself into something so shameful that now I’m incapable of ever feeling ok with myself again.

And I […]

I’m miserable, in a way I don’t think I can change. And it’s not even that I “want” to kill myself. I’m terrified of death. But it feels like on some level I “should”. And that should is confusing.

It’s not so much moral. Though there’s certainly an argument that I pose a danger to others, sick as I am, I think I’ve pretty effectively isolated myself from negatively effecting anyone. Unless I somehow became actually psychotic and lost all grip on reality, I don’t see that changing.

And in terms of just weighing up the consequences of killing myself, it’s hard to persuade myself it’d be […]

I’m a terrible person. Which I repeat here not to be down on myself (which I know is common among depressives), but to accurately represent my situation. By almost any moral standard you could choose to use, I am scum. Of course there’s a sense in which any moral judgement is subjective, and artificially imposed on reality by the human mind. But if you do believe that there’s certain things one should not do, then chances are you’ll agree I’m trash. I say this based particularly on my past actions, but also my current behaviour, my motivations, my emotions, my psychology. I’m an example of […]

Significant parts of me want to do terrible things. Am I ever going to? I highly doubt it. I may sometimes feel like I want to, but I don’t actually want to become the person who’s done such things. If that makes sense.

I don’t want to have to experience being on the other side of having done them. Having to deal with the awareness of what I’d done, and see myself that way. Then again, I don’t want to deal with the awareness of the things I’ve already done, and who I am right now. But I assume it would be even worse.

Possibly not. Possibly […]

I can’t imagine anyone really knowing me, understanding me, seeing me, and still wanting to be close to me. And that’s something I have this fundamental longing for. To be seen, to be loved, to be accepted, to be held. To be ok. In the eyes of others, through my own eyes. To be acceptable. And I can’t imagine ever getting to that point, no matter what I do.

Even if I spent the next 20 years successfully resisting my worst impulses, and pulled myself together enough to do some real good in the world. Even if I really tried to be someone I’m not ashamed […]

More than anything, I want to go back. Regain my innocence. Regain my hope. Take a different path through life. Never see the things I’ve seen, never discover the things I know. Be an optimist till my dying die, even in the face of death.

There’s no going back. There’s only forward. Even if you could somehow transport yourself to a past setting and time, you would remain who you are now moving forward. You couldn’t transport yourself back into your former self, without replacing that self. There may in some sense be the past “you” that still exists, somewhere. But there is no way of […]

Tried looking for help on a forum more focused on my specific issues. Was actually fully honest and open for once. Went pretty much as I’d expected. My post was taken down almost instantly. Some things you just can’t talk about, even to those who might understand. The only interaction I got was from a mod. They were respectful, but all they had to say was basically “You need to fix yourself before involving yourself with others. Fix your desire to do unacceptable things.”

And that’s pretty much all anyone ever has to say. And the question I always have is “How do you stop wanting […]

I’m so insanely lonely and desperate, my mind is fixating once again on the last time someone seemed to really care about me. It was so long ago. I suppose it’s that she was the last person to give me a sense that she saw something really worthwhile in me. Like I was actually valuable. Like who I was had some significance, independent of the roles I play in the lives of others. Like she actually really liked me for me, and wanted to be close to me. I miss that feeling, so fucking much. I can’t imagine ever feeling it again.

And my mind clings […]

Every now and then I get a clear reminder of what I’ve done and who I am, and how everyone else feels about that. I live in this state of denial and emotionally distancing from it the rest of the time. Like I know, factually, what I’ve done. And how horrific everyone feels it is. But that knowledge doesn’t fully connect. I have this emotional shield of rationality, where I disconnect. I detach emotionally.

But sometimes an explicit reminder cuts through, and I remember. I remember what I’ve effectively been trying to bury for 17 years. I remember I don’t want to live in this reality. […]

I wasted my teenage years on fear. Anxiety, avoidance, isolation. Missed all the opportunities to grow and develop as a person. Went to college barely more socially capable than an average 11-year-old. Became even more isolated, even more crippled by anxiety. Dropped out, and gave in to depression, addiction. Wasted my early 20s on that. More fear, more isolation. Only this time without hope of a way out. Lost any sense of who I was. Guilt, shame, despair.

With a lot of help from my family, tried to pull things together a few times in my mid-20s. Finally got a dead-end job, still living with parents. […]

I don’t want to exist in this reality anymore. Being the bad guy in everyone else’s narrative… it gets old, you know?

I tell myself that I should stick around, on the off-chance that there’s some way to find peace. To be free of this despair. To possibly repent of my past. Or even just become someone capable of repenting. Just in case death isn’t the end.

But there’s probably nothing. And even if hell exists, there’s probably no way out now. I’m effectively already there, psychologically. I’m stuck in an endless self-reinforcing loop of despair, hatred, craving, resentment. I have no real hope. And I don’t […]

I waste a lot of time and energy pondering whether I should kill myself. I wouldn’t say it’s that I want to, exactly. I’m hugely afraid of death. And my subconscious will to survive, though weaker than average, is still clearly present.

But it strikes me that in my current life suffering predominates. Not in an extreme sense. I have chronic back & stomach issues, but it’s rarely agonizing. Mostly just uncomfortable and irritating. But it’s bad, and it has the potential to get much worse. And is unlikely to get much better. So it doesn’t seem worth enduring, for its own sake. In other words, it would […]

One of the most prominent undercurrents in my neurosis is fear of cruelty. Within myself. Within our species. Within the whole natural world.

The most recent manifestation: a morbid fascination with cannibalism. Turns out, remarkably common in pre-modern times. Especially in tropical zones, and particularly within island cultures.

I was aware of “emergency cannibalism”, in times of extreme famine. Horrific, but understandable, given severe enough hunger pains and desperation to survive. You’ll find it throughout history and across the world, from medieval England to 19th century China and Ukraine during the Holodomor. When people are pushed into terrible enough circumstances, the moral inhibitions of a proportion of […]

I’ve been drifting for so long now. Half my life. I wish I had some sense of clarity or consistency. Any kind of purpose to keep me going. Like, what the fuck am I doing here? What am I living for? I’m not trying to find a relationship. I’m not that interested in making friends. I don’t really enjoy other people’s company . To the extent that I have career goals, I don’t really care whether or not I get there. I don’t get much pleasure from any of my hobbies or interests. I have no drive.

The only reasons not to kill myself are not […]