thehusk

I am a fantasist. I’m massively emotionally invested in things that are impossible in reality. Which generates endless despair. But I don’t know how to stop wanting what I want. Some things just feel essential.

My fantasies are also terrible. The sickest, most deplorable things you could imagine. And yet they also feel wonderful and great. So that’s a massive headfuck. Huge amounts of shame, guilt, fear, and self-hatred. But it also feels amazing.

So that holds me back from pursuing anything real. I can’t let anyone else see the sickness inside me. And I can’t give it up. I can’t contaminate others.

So my life has no […]

I’m so insanely alone, and hopeless. Can’t pretend I don’t deserve this. But I don’t know how to live with it. I’m so tired of carrying this weight, all this longing, regret, shame, self-hatred. I want to go back, to before I did this to myself, but there’s no going back. I want to go forward, but forward is death, and I’m scared. I’m scared of somehow becoming stuck like this, a sad eternal echo. So I delay, playing for time, hoping for some kind of magical reprieve, or to uncover some hidden understanding of reality that will remove my fear.

I don’t want to be […]

The thing is, I don’t know how to tolerate feeling like this. The sheer fucking loneliness of it. The self-hatred. The shame. The despair. The regret.

I keep telling myself in my mind ‘you’ve got to find some way to cope with this.’ But I have no clue. My mind is constantly tearing itself apart, looking for a solution. But there is no solution. I have irretrievably fucked my life up. There’s no removing this stain. No making it right. No way to make myself acceptable to others. So I will always be alone.

I don’t know how to accept that reality. How to live with it. […]

There is no hope. There is pain, tiredness, longing and sadness. And fear. Boundless fear.

But presumably, this pain will come to an end. Though it may get far worse before then.

Perhaps I will somehow find the courage to end it by that point. But if not, it will come to a natural conclusion.

The average lifespan is under 80. Knock several years off that for depression and chronic isolation, plus a few more for lifestyle factors. It could easily be less that 40 years. Even less if I get a terminal illness.

What’s 40 years, given the span of the universe? A blink. The last 33 have […]

This despair will fade back into the background. Logically I know that. Tomorrow it will be covered over by anxiety, and distraction, and possibly even some brief excitement. But right now, it has me. And everything is wrong. And nothing will ever be ok again. But it’s fine, even though it’s not. Nothing to see here. Move along.

I want to do some truly terrible things. I don’t think they’re ever going to actually happen. But just the awareness of that side of myself leaves me feeling afraid, and isolated from others. I’m the bad guy in everyone’s else’s story.

I suppose it’s because although I’m a bad person, I’m not a psychopath. So I still crave social acceptance & safety, even though I know I can’t have it. Awareness of the immorality of my desires terrifies me, because it’s a reminder that everyone is a threat. Anyone who saw the truth about me would pose an unacceptable risk. Essentially I’ve made myself an […]

I’ve made connection impossible for myself, through my actions, and what I’ve become. But large parts of me don’t realize. They go on longing for something that’s hard to define. The ability to relax and be myself around someone. Intimacy. To truly care for someone other than myself. To be known, understood, accepted, loved, as I truly am. To be ok with another person. To be acceptable.

But I’m not acceptable. And I never can be, regardless of what I do from here.

So I’m continuing to live because I’m afraid of dying. But my mind is driving me crazy, desperately grasping out for any way to […]

It appears my continued existence basically comes down to fear and attachment. I am more afraid of death than I am of the pain of life, intolerable though that often seems. Or possibly more afraid of what might wait beyond death (comeuppance/karma.) And I am attached to the positive possibilities of this world. To fantasies of being a different person, or memories of who I used to be. To beauty in all it’s forms.

So it would seem to follow that until my fear of this life overwhelms my fear of death, or my attachments sufficiently diminish, I am stuck here.

The sensible response would be to […]

I don’t have it in me. To end my life, or to make my life worthwhile. I just want to give up. I want the pain to stop. But it won’t. It only gets worse. And I’m too much of a coward to end it. I’ll just suffer on miserably, until things finally fall apart, and even then I’ll cling on. And when death is finally forced on me, I’ll still deny the reality of it.

I want so many different, conflicting things. Delusional things. Terrible things.

Rationally, I know they will not make me happy. But that doesn’t change anything. Because I don’t believe anything could make me happy.

So my mind is consumed by one fantastical obsession, then the next, and on. Always attempting to escape from the awful reality

I try so hard to maintain some kind of internal coherency, some sort of balance. But the truth is there is no ‘objective me’, detached from all the delusion. I am the most disgusting sociopath you can imagine, and also the most innocent idealist, all within the same head.

My reasons for not […]

Exit, and devastate those I care about. Somehow overcome the fear of death. Face the possibility of some worse punishment beyond.

Or try to find some way to stick around for another 20+ years, as my body continues to deteriorate, and the pain grows. Find some way to survive in a world I don’t want to be in. Endure the constant anxiety and exhaustion, as contentment becomes an ever more distant memory.

This is a recipe for depression. There is no hope. Things are bad, and they will get worse.

All you can hope to do is limit the suffering along the way. But your suffering, or the […]

I somehow need to overcome this impasse in myself. To either decisively end things, or to fully commit to survival. My current approach is the worst of all worlds – failing to function, exposing myself to ever greater pain and suffering.

My emotions are in a terrible state. They refuse to accept the reality I live in. But they also won’t accept leaving it once and for all.

What do you do when you’ve made connecting with others impossible? When you entire existence is a dirty secret. When every positive encounter you have is contaminated by the knowledge of what would happen if they knew the truth. And you can’t ever risk anyone knowing the truth.

I may be a monster, but I’m still human. I still have the same drive to escape isolation, to seek out company and fellow feeling. To feel accepted, related to, understood.

So there’s this constant nagging demand within me to reach out, to somehow breakthrough the wall that separates me from others. But there’s no way of satisfying that […]

Parts of me want so badly to stop. That hate what I’ve become so much. But this stubborn resistance refuses and clings to existence. So I post here, in an attempt to relieve that feeling for a while. So for a time I can pretend that it’s not hopeless. In hopes of feeling a little less alone. Sometimes it works.

I’m not a cutter – generally averse to injury of any kind. But something to interrupt these feelings – this despair – that appeals right now.

This state will not last. In a few hours, it will have been pushed down again by some form of distracting […]

Fear of suffering. That’s my primary drive and motivation. But if that’s the case, why isn’t ending it the rational choice? If there’s probably no existence beyond death, and probably no monotheistic God to punish me, and probably nothing I could do to avoid such punishment anyway, then…why am I enduring this? I’m suffering, and my suffering only gets worse as I age, and continuing to live risks exposure to really terrible suffering.

But part of me is resistant to that logic. I fear death. This animal wants to survive, and replicate. Even though death is inevitable, and replication extremely unlikely.

Suicide seems the obvious choice, at […]

I’ve made connection with others impossible. Because of the things that I’ve done, and seen, and cultivated within myself. Nobody could see the truth about me and still want anything to do with me. At least, no one morally sane. No one I would want in my life.

Evil is an emotive term. Let’s say that I’m sick. I’ve made myself sick. I’ve grown this side of myself that finds pleasure in wickedness. And I don’t think that’s something that’s ever going away. It’s not something you can unlearn. It’s a key part of reality – once you’ve seen it, you can’t forget.

The things I’ve seen, […]

I’m so insanely tired. I just slept for the best part of 10 hours, and somehow I’m still tired. There’s just nothing in the tank. My body aches. My mind is numb. I have no drive to do anything.

What’s my motivation here? To try to suffer a little bit less? Seems sensible. But I can’t bring myself to actually care. The things I actually want from life are fantastical/delusional. All I’m left with is damage control – trying to limit the pain. However bad it is right now, it can get so much worse.

But emotionally, I’d rather just stop.

I want to stop being me. I’m constantly making myself miserable, and I don’t think I can change. I’m just too broken – it’s like I’m addicted to being unhappy. It goes too deep – there’s no decent person left to salvage. Rotten to the core etc. I hate myself, and yet I love hating myself. I want it all to stop. I want me to stop – no more thoughts, no despicable monstrous feelings, no sensations. Take me apart and let my matter become other things, that don’t hate themselves or the world.

But I don’t want to devastate my family. Especially my mum. They’ve […]

I think avoidant is a pretty good label for at least part of what is wrong with me. It’s not the worst thing, but it’s a big issue. At root, I am terrified of being seen, perceived, or judged. Of the negative assessments of others, spoken or unspoken. And so I instinctively seek to avoid real world contact with people wherever possible.

It’s understandable that I would be sensitive to judgement, given that in many ways I’m pretty disgusting and pathetic. But I feared judgement long before I had done so much to deserve it. I was resistant to anything that would expose my underlying weaknesses.

I […]

It’s hard to accept this despair. It’s not an intense kind of suffering. Not like grief. I’m not in agony. I’m not tearing my hair out. I’m just…chronically disappointed? With reality, and with myself. It’s not an existence I think is worthwhile. But it’s not truly awful, compared to some states. I’m pretty much fine – it’s just that a lot of the time I’d rather it was all over. I don’t want this experience anymore – I don’t want this life. I want to hope, and feel invested again. I want to feel involved in life. And I don’t think I can now.

Presumably most […]