thehusk

Loneliness is a strange thing. I couldn’t say quite how it feels. There’s this persistent sense that someone else should be here with you. But it’s more than just wanting a physical presence. I have this deep psychological longing for someone to understand. To really understand who and what I am. For someone to see what I do and the reasons I do it. To feel what I feel. To not be alone in my experience of the world.

I’m not sure that’s possible for anyone, let alone someone as fucked up as me. Everyone is confined to their own unique experience, their filters for viewing reality. […]

When that which motivates you, drives you, and feels essential also seems impossible, what follows? Suicide. But what if you’re afraid of death? Of the possibilities of existence and judgement beyond. Of doing something hasty or irrational. Afraid of devastating the lives of those who have given everything to you. Afraid of giving up on the possibility that somehow, at some undetermined point, things will magically turn around, and your life will seem meaningful again.

So, not suicide then. At least not yet. So what then? What do you do with this hole where purpose should be? You negotiate with your depression. With your extreme feelings of […]

I’m tired of being me. Everything I’ve ever struggled with over the course of my life comes from being me. My mind is not made for contentment. Perhaps that’s the same for everybody. But it seems that most other people are able to come to terms with reality to some extent. They take comfort in Gods, or relationships, or friends, families, art, pets, or drugs.

Comfort is pretty thin on the ground for me, though I spend most of my time seeking it. I get brief hints, but as soon as I try to hold on it slips though my fingers. Nothing is ok. Nothing will ever be […]

I’m tired of trying to hold together all these contradictory thoughts and impulses. Of seeing other people happy, with hope & purpose, when that’s beyond me. Of regret, & living in idealised memories of the past, or fantastical versions of the future.

I’m tired of the way I perceive the world, and see humans as a species.

I’m tired of the guilt, shame, & fear. Of knowing that nothing can make it ok.

I’m tired of wanting. So many competing things, many of them impossible.

I’m tired of being alone with all this going round and around my head.

I should die, and yet I shouldn’t. I’m a monster, yet I also […]

I told myself I was done with posting, but I’m tired of being alone with everything in my mind. I could just write all this out on paper, but if I post it then at least there’s the possibility of some kind of input that might make me feel slightly less isolated. Validate me goddammit! 🙂

I have memories of hating myself, long before I’d done anything worthy of hate. Maybe I was an asshole as a kid. I was sheltered. Awkward. Quiet, possibly to the point of rudeness. Perhaps people thought I was stuck up, that I saw myself as better than them. Maybe I did.

It’s […]

I think it’s time for me to stop coming to this site. It’s something I do instinctively as a coping mechanism, but most of the time it doesn’t really help anymore. It’s just become another form of distraction, but I think there are probably healthier ways to do that. I’m posting this as a way of trying to hold myself to it. If I’m back here next week writing the same old bullshit, please remind me of it.

I’d like to thank everyone who’s taken the time to read my posts and comment over the last two and a half years. There’s a lot of thoughtful, interesting users on here, […]

‘They lie because it’s the only way to survive. If they had to face the truth of themselves, then they would fill their pockets with rocks and walk into the sea. They simply wouldn’t be able to live with it.’

I heard this said about a different group of people the other day, but it applies to me. The only way I am still here is denial. Minimizing the severity of what I’ve done, telling myself it wasn’t that bad. Because the truth is that I’m an awful person, and I shouldn’t be alive. And recognizing that I’m an awful person doesn’t stop me from being […]

I’m trying to approach this thing from a different perspective. I can’t end my life. Not right now. Even if I’m convinced that I want to. I can’t do that to my family. I just don’t have it in me. That’s the reality. I love them, in my fucked up way, as often as I hate them. Even monsters care about something. So, as long as my parents (and possibly my sister) are alive, I’m probably not going to be able to go through with it. That could be another 20, 30, even 40 years. Unless we fall out and cut contact, it’s likely I’ll be sticking […]

It would seem that what I’ve done is unforgivable. Should not exist, in the world. Therefore I should not exist. Don’t want to exist. Don’t want to be that. If I acknowledge the truth, and the moral sentiment, then I no longer want to be. The shame, self-hatred, disgust, is simply too much for life to be tenable. Nobody could want to live with that.

And yet, it is just removed enough to be deniable. Did my actions actually have any effect on anyone but myself? Was it really any worse than the horrors committed by most people every single day? Wasn’t it a simply an unavoidable outcome […]

I recently read somewhere that dreams are our minds way of showing us what we really want, then reminding us why we can’t have it. That kind of made sense to me. I have 3 or 4 types of dream, all of which generate negative feelings of some sort.

I dream a lot about my extended family – my cousins & aunts. I haven’t seen or been in contact with most of them for 7 years. I’ve completely avoided it. I’ve missed their weddings, the births of their children, everything. I didn’t want to face them. I didn’t want the awkwardness of their pity. To have to admit […]

‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ Or something along those lines. It would seem that it’s all in the stories that we tell ourselves. Suffering is based on expectations.

The difficulty is in letting go of those expectations, when our minds are constructed around them. What else do we have to motivate us? To drive us to survive?

Why not just drift endlessly, in a sea of nothing? Why not starve to death? Why avoid physical pain?

Expectations are the rules we set for ourselves. The way we play the game. And when we fail them, we feel that sense of wrongness, […]

I keep thinking that I’d give anything to turn back the clock. Not that I was exactly happy back then, but I was still a person. I had beliefs, standards, morals. I had real hope. There were things I new I’d never do.

The truth is, the seeds of who I am now were sown way back. My situation now is a product of my issues then. Run the tape again and you’d get the same outcome. I couldn’t change it without knowing what I know now, and I couldn’t know what I know without doing what I’ve done.

But I miss my innocence. Waking up in […]

I probably shouldn’t be posting right now. It rarely helps. I’m just feeling very lost, and I don’t know what else to do.

I wish I could just get on with living a normal life, like most seem to, without constantly analyzing everything. But it just feels wrong. And I don’t know how to let that go.

I’m caught between thinking that life could be great (if only I could figure some things out), and believing that it’s completely hopeless for me. And other times, I suspect that it’s really hopeless for everyone – that no matter how good you may temporarily have it, it’s not worth […]

It seems that ‘I’ am some sort of synthesis, an aggregate of many conflicting messages and impulses. I can believe many mutually exclusive things at one moment or another, yet never enough to fully commit. ‘I’ am uncertainty.

How can I live, after doing what I’ve done? Knowing that I will likely do it again. Wanting what I want. How could I allow that to continue to exist in the world? How could I live with the shame, the guilt, the self-disgust? Knowing the pain that such impulses cause. How could I tolerate that continuing to be, in my mind?

But then how could I do it to my family? Those […]

What if you’re really as worthless, hopeless, and lost as you fear? What if you’re not only completely alone, but utterly insignificant to anyone? What if there’s really nothing that you can do to make things right?

How do you go on living, with that awareness in your mind? Without it consuming you? Without just curling up in a ball, or slumping, staring vacantly at the wall. How do you live, without constantly wanting to just end yourself?

I can’t help feeling that there’s something terribly wrong with reality. Not just my little screwed up corner of it, but the whole thing. There’s something missing, but I can’t describe what it is. I wake up feeling this sense of loss, but I’m not sure what it’s for.

I just know that the world shouldn’t be this. Without knowing how it should be different. There’s an absence of the significance that somehow should exist. This is a world without Gods, spirits, ancestors, or magic. And I know that none of those things would fill the void. But there’s something else that’s missing too. Something with more […]

I don’t know if this is guilt, though there’s certainly an element of that in there. I know that what I am and what I do isn’t right, though I can’t always remember why.

There’s a fair amount of fear, but not necessarily that I’ll be found out (although that idea is terrifying). Fear of myself perhaps. Of what I am. Of what I’ve done. That there’s no way out. No way back. No return. No way to stop myself. No way to be free of this. No clean slate. No forgiveness. No peace. No happiness. No real life.

There’s a lot of tiredness, and despair. Carrying this […]

It’s hard to pinpoint quite what’s wrong. I think it’s something like: I miss mystery. Contemplating the world with the kind of interest I used to as a child. Now everything seems sort of predictable. Even the shocks and random outliers. Certain things are predictably stimulating/exciting. But it’s not the same.

It’s like my mind has processed all the possibilities of reality, and jammed them into neat little boxes. Whatever happens, whatever turns out to be the case, it’s just not really all that interesting anymore.

Perhaps what I’m describing is an inevitable result of adulthood – in order to try and survive the world, the brain has to limit it’s view […]

I heard something today that cut to my core. It was something like; ‘intimacy is knowing that there’s someone who you can tell, whatever goes through your mind, no matter how shameful, and they’ll still take your calls afterwards, and care about how you’re doing.’

And I realized that I haven’t had that, at least as an adult. And there’s no way I can see of ever getting there in the future. Because whoever I talk to, always there in the back of my mind is the knowledge that if they knew the whole truth about me, they would be appalled, and want nothing more to do […]

The problem with cutting yourself off from society and attempting to opt out of the system is this: sooner or later, you will need someone to speak for you. Someone to confirm that you are in fact you, and not some impostor. And suddenly, things get horribly complicated, and you have to start admitting to complete strangers that you have none of the required markers of normalcy or adulthood.

No, I don’t have a driving license. Driving makes me anxious, and I can’t afford to run a car anyway. No utility bills, as all I purchase is food and other retail items. I haven’t been employed in a […]