thehusk

I have these ideas in my mind of what my life should’ve been. Every day I get these little reminders, and it totally throws me. Just remembering that these things are still out there. Even though it’s not possible for me now. It cuts through the fog of my day to day struggle, and tells me ‘Look, remember this! It was real! This is what your life should’ve been! This is what would make life worthwhile!’. And then I remember why it’s no longer possible for me. Maybe it never was. And I don’t know what to do with that feeling.

I’m emotionally trapped in the past. And it hurts. The meanings I’ve attached to things…are causing me pain. And I don’t know how to stop that. Because there’s nothing else left for me. There’s no future. No relationships, no kids, no career, nothing I feel really passionate about. The only things that seem meaningful are in the past, lost.

All I’m really doing is running down the clock, trying to reduce the amount I suffer and avoid hurting anyone else too badly while I do it. But my emotions won’t adjust to that reality. I’m still hung up on things that I missed in childhood, and things that aren’t possible for me now.

I want to numb it all away. But I also don’t. Because I want something to feel meaningful, and important, and vital. I’m stuck in this cycle of pointless suffering.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

This life isn’t something that should be, surely. The chronic background of fear, guilt, shame, regret, despair, numbed by addictive hedonism. Better not to be. Nothing good can come of it. If anyone should kill themselves, it’s me. So why am I still here?

Maybe I fear cosmic justice catching up to me beyond the grave. Being left alone to face all that fear and despair with no means to push it down any longer. If I could somehow be certain that it was the end, then perhaps it would seem more appealing, and less like an existential leap in the dark.

Or it could be that I can’t bring myself to do it to my family. They’ve invested so much in me, and they don’t deserve to have my despair dropped on to them. Thinking about what it would do to my mum especially…it just seems unjustifiable. If there was some way to make them understand, to make sure they’d be ok, that they’d just forget me, then it might be something I could do in good conscience.

Perhaps it’s just dumb survival instinct, in which case I wonder whether I can bring myself to overcome it, even if things became agonisingly painful. Or maybe it’s attachment to being, to this self and it’s experiences – my memories, desires, cravings, addictions.

I want it to end, but it doesn’t seem like I’m prepared to do what’s necessary. I don’t know whether that’s a good choice or not, or even why I’m really making it day after day.

I wonder how many times I’ve written copies of this sentiment over the last 5 years. I’ve been stuck in this holding pattern for so long now – without hope or purpose or any resolution in sight. I just keep on in my misery…because I don’t know what else to do.

I’m fairly sure this isn’t hell…it’s not excruciating enough. Much of the time I’m able to push it all down and focus on the small meaningless distractions that pass in front of me. But there’s no hope here. There’s no way out. There’s no overcoming. There’s no escape. No peace. How do I sleep at night? Poorly, that’s how.

I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe it never will. But it’s in my head, the awareness of what I’ve done and what I am. It’s always there, in the background, casting a shadow over everything.

Possibly the outskirts of hell. The suburbs? Trapped on a train moving at snail’s pace toward the centre. Everything could almost be fine, it’s not too uncomfortable, there’s still some nice views out of the window. But there is most definitely no way out. And in the distance some terrible shapes begin to emerge…

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I don’t know how to deal with all the conflicting stuff that goes through my head. So many competing contradictory priorities and impulses, all seeming vitally important in some way. I don’t know which direction to go. People always say ‘listen to your heart’. But my ‘heart’ tells me very different things from moment to moment, and I suspect it may not be a reliable guide.

Much of the time I think it would be for the best to end it, as quickly and painlessly as possible. End any chance of greater suffering. But then that would negate all my other conflicting impulses. And I have no idea how much weight to give any one priority.

How do you end your suffering whilst also being there to protect your loved ones? How do you pursue happiness and connection whilst shielding yourself from the pain of despair? How do you preserve the world whilst also wanting to bring it to an end. How do you pursue hedonism whilst living morally righteously?

I wish I could be just one thing. There’s too much in my head, and it’s tearing me apart. I’m pulled in every direction, and I end up going nowhere.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I spend so much time wondering whether I should be ending it. No matter how many times I resolve to keep going until something changes, I keep on reverting back to asking myself why.

I think it’s that I don’t know how to accept and live with the reality I’ve created for myself. I don’t know how to be this person. There’s no real meaning to it for me. I’ve made any kind of connection with anyone impossible for myself. I’ve robbed myself of stakes. Nothing matters. Nothing is worth suffering for. Nothing makes it worth enduring the little things that torment me daily.

But what’s the rush? Things aren’t that bad. My discomfort isn’t agonizing. I’m able bodied. I can still absorb myself in distractions from time to time. Would it really be rational to end it now, when I still have some road ahead of me?

I do fear the choice being taken from me – an accident, or a violent act, leaving me disabled, unable to finish it. Unlikely, but it does happen. I have particular personal reasons to fear losing my freedom which I won’t go into. Things could get very bad indeed. But not likely, at the moment. Wise to be prepared to end it, but maybe not rational to go now.

But the thing is, I don’t want to live with this reality anymore. I don’t want to have to face it every day. I don’t want to have to make the effort. There’s nothing real here for me. There’s no goal, no purpose. Just keep on surviving until my parents are dead and I can off myself without feeling too bad about it.

It’s childish I know, but I just can’t bring myself to face this life. Putting myself through all that, for just…nothing.

I’m sure I can make a convincing case for myself that this world would be better off without me in it, which would offset any harm caused to family.

So…why aren’t I ending it? Why aren’t I at least making preparations? Perhaps I don’t really believe my judgement about my life’s meaninglessness. I cling to small moments of positive experience, as if they somehow justify the sea of emptiness and negativity. Can’t let go of those small moments. Can’t let go of being this person. Despite also hating being this person.

Can’t let go of memories. I think I was happy once, back when I was a child. I have the pictures, and I look happy, rather than the pained fake happy I sometimes affect now. Whatever happiness was. Lack of constant self-awareness perhaps.

Can’t let go of possibilities. Seemingly impossible possibilities. But while existence persists, so does possibility.

Really can’t bring myself to do that to my family, even if it was the right thing overall. Thinking about my parents having to deal with it…feels like such a shitty thing to do, after all they’ve done for me. But hey, I won’t be here to see it, so…no biggie?

I’m so incredibly, insanely lost. I do believe that there are some existences to which death would genuinely be preferable. I’m just not sure whether this is one of them. A lot of people would’ve offed themselves long ago in my circumstances, from the shame of it alone. But that would require a stronger sense of social morality than the one I possess.

I just keep getting this overwhelming feeling of not wanting to face this reality anymore. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be this. I want out. And there’s no hope of anything changing. This is as good as it gets. It’s all downhill from here. I just keep asking myself why. Why bother? What am I doing here? Just running down the clock, waiting for something truly awful to push me over the edge. I don’t know how to do it. There’s no meaning to it. What my motivation in this scene? Line?!

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

On the one hand, want not to exist. Want not to have the experience of being ‘me’. No more regret, no more despair, no more isolation, self-hatred, guilt or shame. For all the wrongness just to be over. No more. Just emptiness instead. And I should do it. I should not exist. What I am should not be.

On the other hand…fear? Fear of? What if it’s not the end? I fear judgement, punishment, torment and eternal regret.

It’s hard for me to believe that this world has a creator capable of sitting in moral judgement. The amount of pointless suffering that takes place in the animal kingdom alone seems to suggest that ethics were not of great concern. Nature is red in both tooth and claw. The inference would be that human experience is irrelevant to any creative power, and that our consciousnesses simply dissipate when our lives end. No pearly gates, no paradise, no eternal damnation. God, if he exists, does not much care for our individual existences.

But what if I’m wrong? How could I ever have enough confidence in my doubts to follow them to their logical conclusion? How can I tell if my rationality is sound, my reasoning unbiased, my perception clear? Could I ever take that leap into the dark, even in utter desperation? The problem of being raised in a theistic culture is that it’s drilled into the spine of your worldview. No matter how little sense it makes to you, it still has a grip.

So I cling on, hoping that at some point things will become clearer. Either that some benevolent purpose to all this suffering will be revealed to my monkey mind, or that my fears of a worse existence beyond are somehow put to rest, and I can finally let go of being.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I’ve been trying again to pin down what exactly it is I’m still doing here. As usual I’m failing to find a clear answer. By any standard morality, I would’ve been dead long ago. Any halfway decent person would’ve committed seppuku immediately in my situation. But of course if I were halfway decent, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Clearly, conventional morality doesn’t have a strong enough pull on my mind to motivate me to do ‘the right thing’. I feel shame, I feel guilt, I know that there’s a deep wrongness in me. But that’s apparently just not enough.

I don’t want to hurt my parents. They’re genuinely good people, and so invested in me. Perhaps too invested. When I think about them getting the news, or having to ID the body, or just having to live with it, day after day, for the rest of their lives…I couldn’t do that to them, could I? It feels like the ultimate dick move, after everything else I’ve put them through, and all they’ve done for me.

I’m not attractive, confident, or care-free enough to enjoy a life of meaningless hedonism. My existence is anxious and uncomfortable. I’m not at ease in my own skin, both metaphorically and literally. Nausea overwhelms me every time I leave the house. Dorian Gray I ain’t.

There are times I feel this world of ours could be so good. If only it weren’t for shitheads like me, screwing it up for everybody. Perhaps suicide would be the selfless thing. Or perhaps I should do something to help. If only I wasn’t so useless. I mean, the other 7 billion of you seem to be doing mostly fuck all, and most of you have something to live for – friends, partners, children, careers, plans. How the fuck is a useless prick like me going to make any difference whatsoever, with none of that? Activism requires people skills! How do you persuade people that life on this planet is worth saving when you doubt your own life is worth living?

But it would be a shame, if right on the brink of having the technology to make our existence so much better, we used our existing technology to burn our civilization to the ground. Just a thought.

At least the genuine psychopaths love themselves unconditionally. I have to live with the knowledge of who and what I am, both loathing and loving it. Won’t someone please think of the assholes? We have feelings too (mostly rage and self-disgust, but still!)

If only we could know, clearly, what this world is. What happens when we die. Why we are the way we are. If we knew there’d be no punishment, that there was no one watching. Although perhaps that might lead to a moral decline in society. So just me. If only I could know, personally. If only I could be sure.

That’s the thing about a guilty conscience – you’re always anticipating someone finding out, somehow. Awaiting judgement. If not in this life, then after death. The thought that you’d just get away with it – it’s just not acceptable somehow. How could something so awful not have any deeper meaning? Unfortunately, for some things no punishment would ever be enough.

If there is a God, a personal message would be nice. Just to make it clear. The ancient scriptures seems somewhat lacking in consistency and credibility. Almost like they were contrived to justify the interests of those who wrote them.

Would it really be too much to ask to get a clarification on whether eternal damnation is on the cards, and what actions would be sufficient to avoid such a fate? Are all the angels so rushed off their wings that they can’t spare a minute to drop by and spell it out? Do I really have to put all my faith in ancient schizophrenic middle eastern nomads?

I think I’ve put myself beyond any real human connection. If that’s the only meaning to be found in a Godless world, then where does that leave me? Do I keep banging my head against the impossible, just for the sake of it? All you need is love, but what if you’ve made that impossible for yourself? What then? What if you’re one of the lonely people? How do you know when you’re better off giving up the ghost, and saving yourself additional pain? If I could just know…

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

Day after day, I return to the recognition that I don’t know how to live with myself. With my reality. With the awareness of what I’ve done, and what I am. There is no honorable life for me. The closest I could get seems unbearable, and I lack the conviction for it (I cannot explain). I think I would rather die than follow that intolerable path – it seems easier.

There would be little honor in my death either. But it’s still probably what I should do. And yet I don’t. I ask myself why, and what comes back is fear. Why fear? Because I lack the conviction that it will truly be the end? Because I fear that my essence will somehow persist, trapped in a state of torment, regret, and isolation? Is it that I fear making a mistake over the largest, final decision that one can make? Or is all that just rationalization, masking pure unthinking survival instinct? Regardless, I think I lack the conviction necessary to overcome such fear.

Which leaves me stuck here, with nothing to make the suffering and struggle of life seem worthwhile. I’ve made it impossible to form any kind of real connection, with anyone – any kind of relationship based on truth – because of who I am, and what I’ve done. I am utterly alone, even if surrounded by those who care about me. I am morally, psychologically, emotionally alone. Existentially alone. I cannot explain. And yet still I crave for connection, for what I’ve made impossible.

I long to feel some greater meaning in my life, beyond just the fear of death. But it is hard to see one, when all that lies before me is isolation. No partner, no children, no real friends, no connection, no community acceptance. No noble calling seems sufficient to fill the gap. There can be no integrity to anything I do anyway. Even continuing to live is a form of deception.

At times I feel that I want to do something towards preserving this world of ours. But it’s so hard to retain motivation, when you know that anything that you do achieve will be for the fulfillment of others, which you yourself can never experience. When you’re hopelessly broken yourself it’s hard to maintain meaning in the thought of helping others who are whole. But I want to invest meaning in something, and if it’s not possible for my own life then I suppose it has to be in the well-being of others. It’s just difficult to feel enough motivation to do anything remotely productive. Most of the time I’d rather try and just numb it all away. I don’t know.

I suppose it makes sense to try and make whatever peace I can with my complete isolation, and with my fear. With how bad things are, and how much worse they could get. I just don’t really know how. There’s few guides for what to do when you’ve sunk as low as I have. Suicide or confession seem about all that’s on the table, and I lack the conviction for either. Beyond seeking whatever palliative distractions I can in this world, I suppose all that’s left is to hope that I’ll be granted peace, or the gift of non-existence, when death does finally come. An eternity of torment, isolation and regret is hard to come to terms with.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

Desire is a problem. Wanting things that are most likely not possible. And the mind keeps nagging away at you, reminding you, ‘Hey, remember that thing that’s really important? You should go and find it, right now.’ And then you remember all the reasons why it’s not going to work out that way. And you have that moment of despair, where you realize the only thing that seems meaningful in the world is beyond your grasp, and there’s no point you even existing. But apparently you lack conviction in that assessment, so you try to push down the feeling and go about your day. But 5 minutes later it’s back at the surface, and you have to go  through the whole process again.

I should’ve let go of such desires long ago, and adjusted to the reality, to make the best of things as they are. But no matter how much pointless suffering I cause myself, a major part of me doesn’t want to let go. It wants to keep pedantically clinging to it’s delusional, unrealistic expectations. Because anything less seems meaningless. And without meaning, what’s the point?

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

It’s ridiculous how much of every day I spend feeling like this. Every few minutes a reminder of how unsatisfactory and unacceptable my life is. How completely screwed I am. That there’s no hope for me. And yet still, apparently, I just don’t want out bad enough. You’d think I would have numbed myself to all of life’s disappointments by now. But I guess I’m too attached to my own suffering to let go. Constantly subconsciously scanning for reminders of what I want but can’t have. The problem is me – my brain, my self, my personality. I do this to myself, because I don’t know how to stop.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I think I need some outside input on this. My own feelings fluctuate all over the place.

I’m trying to weigh up whether suicide is the wisest choice for me, as things stand right now. Whether it would be more rational than continuing to live. Whether it would be in my best interests, all things considered. I’ll start by trying to clarify my present state, compared to conditions where I’m fully convinced it would be better to end it.

For starters, I don’t have cancer, or some other terminal disease, or a degenerative condition like dementia. I’m not severely disabled, and I’m not in agonizing pain. I wouldn’t say I was healthy, and I have a number of low-level physical discomforts (IBS, skin problems, insomnia etc.) But I’m in better shape than many. I have any number of physical flaws and defects, but I wouldn’t say I’m hideously disfigured or anything.

I’m not homeless, though I am still living with parents long past the age where that’s socially acceptable. I have some savings, a little work experience, and some education, though I’m long-term unemployed, and my CV is pretty pathetic. I’m a long way from financial independence, but I don’t live through grinding poverty by any means.

I’m not in prison, I don’t have a criminal record, and no one is pursuing me with threats of violence. I do have an awful past that could potentially catch up with me at some point to terrible effect, but that seems unlikely in the near future, given the current allocation of policing resources.

I have a supportive, understanding, and loving family. Though they’ve been hurt and distressed by my endless failures, I know that my death would be completely devastating for them. I feel an obligation not to do that to them, not to ruin what in many respects seem content and meaningful lives, though I don’t know if that’s enough on it’s own to keep going. My sister just got engaged. She seems really happy. The idea of casting a shadow over the wedding doesn’t feel too good.

I spend much of my time consumed by longing, loneliness, regret, shame, guilt, fear, self-disgust, and despair. These burdens weigh on me considerably. I don’t know if I’d say they’re unbearable, but I don’t know how to live with them. I think I’ve irreversibly cut myself off from any human connection, by the ways in which I’ve lived, and the person I’ve become. There’s things I don’t think I can change about myself that no person should accept. I long to go back, and do it all differently, but of course you can’t. Now I don’t think I can ever let anyone in, or be myself around anyone. Involving myself with anyone feels wrong, like a deception. I don’t think I’m capable of any degree of intimacy. Like I’m always going to be utterly alone, even when with people. I’m morally, socially, and personally inferior. Much of the time I struggle to see any meaning in my life. I can’t see how I could ever invest it with enough purpose to make it seem worthwhile. I feel I’ve robbed my relationships of the possibility of any deeper meaning. But that could all be overly pessimistic.

I’m still capable of enjoying distractions, hedonistic pleasures and aesthetic pursuits, at least some of the time. But the older I get, the more hollow it all rings, unanchored from any sense of deeper meaning.

I don’t know how to weigh all of this. My life is often unpleasant at the moment, but I don’t know if I’d call it appalling, or if it’s sufficiently bad to overcome the obligations I feel to family. I don’t know if I’d be justified in ending it – whether the costs to family would be offset by my current burdens. Those burdens feel considerable, formidable even, but I don’t know if they’re sufficiently severe, or overwhelming, or unacceptable.

I’m not even sure if death’s the best thing for me, just from a selfish point of view. I don’t know what the wise choice is here. Whether my current existence is truly unbearable, whether my quality of life is so poor that it’s not worth continuing. I don’t know what the reasonable response to all this is. No one ever talks about when it’s best to end it, and when you should go on, and how to tell the difference.

If I had a terminal disease, or debilitating pain, or was facing imminent imprisonment, violence, or homelessness, I feel it would be clearer cut. But where I am now, I really don’t know. Any considered input would be appreciated. I feel like if I could just make a decision one way or the other, and feel confident in it, it might ease some of the burden.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I’m still stuck in the same old loops. It seems that I’m too afraid of death to end it. The rationalization for that is my lack of certainty that death is truly the end. I fear my consciousness somehow persisting, trapped in a state of regret, despair, and torment. I don’t believe in a soul, rationally speaking. But my emotions seem to think otherwise. I lack conviction in my materialist atheism.

Of course I’ll have to take that leap at some point, but I suppose I want to put it off for as long as I can. The idea being that perhaps there’s things that I could do in the remainder of my life to reduce the regret or torment that I might feel afterwards, and reach a state of greater fulfillment and peace. Which often seems completely delusional, trapped as I am in my dysfunctional cycles. But I suppose I also lack conviction that there’s nothing that I can do to change things. My hope isn’t sufficiently dead yet.

But that leaves me here, trying to work out what I should do in an attempt to find greater fulfillment and peace before death. And I don’t have any faith in any kind of redemption narrative to follow. I’m not prepared to expose myself to any great suffering in this world in the hopes of some salvation after death. If things get bad enough here, I’d still rather take the risk of death. Things just aren’t bad enough, yet.

I feel I should do something to try and find fulfillment, happiness, love. That I have to somehow change myself, to make myself worthy of it. But I also don’t believe that there’s anything that I could do that would suffice. No matter what I do from this point, I will always be a terrible person, contaminated by the evil inside me. I will never be able to let anyone see the truth without them being repulsed & disgusted.

I feel that I should be seeking out a real connection with someone – an emotionally honest relationship. I want that. I want someone I can be real with. But I’m also terrified of getting involved with anyone.

The thought of telling someone the truth seems like an unacceptable risk. I can’t see anyone reacting with anything other than justified shock, anger, & disgust. And if they told anyone, as they might feel morally compelled to, the consequences could be truly devastating. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to take that risk.

But the idea of allowing someone to get close to me without telling them the truth also seems wrong. The thought of deceiving someone I care about so fundamentally feels unacceptable. And it’s not what I want. I want someone to really know me – to care for me. Not some deception I’ve constructed. I want emotional closeness.

I have no idea how to resolve this fundamental conflict, of feeling that I should be pursuing connection and an emotionally honest relationship, but also that it’s impossible, and that the risk of letting anyone close see the truth of me is not something I can tolerate.

I’ve been stuck with this going round and around my head for years. I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t feel I can tell anyone close to me the truth. I don’t think I want to deceive anyone into loving me and live a lie. And yet I feel somehow I must find some way to love and deep connection. That I should be doing something to make it possible. I have no idea…

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

It’s so funny, the way the mind gets caught up on things that are so clearly terrible for it. How some of us just get stuck. And everyone we talk to about it just wants to scream at us ‘GET THE FUCK OVER IT!’ And we know they’re right! We know it’s maladaptive, it’s pointless. We can recognize, rationally, that this is doing us no good. But no matter how hard we try to reason with ourselves, to attempt to focus on doing something constructive, on moving forward, something in us just keeps wrenching us back.

It’s about meaning. I can know something is no good for me, rationally. I can understand that thinking about it will only lead to more suffering. That nothing good can come from it. But something in me rebels, snaps back, resists. It insists on the impossible, the unhealthy, the dangerous. It’s demands that I pick at the same old emotional scab. Because it somehow feels good, even when it feel awful. It feels meaningful, important. It feels right. It feels like what I’m meant to be doing. And everything else feels somehow empty, however healthy and productive and goal orientated.

Emotion is not rational. Meaning and significance are not rational. And it’s so incredibly funny how some brains can get caught up, trapped in webs of past meaning, tormenting themselves. It could be characterized as mental illness, or stubbornness. The refusal of a brain to detach from past meanings, to let go, where it is clearly preferable to do so. To insist that ‘they were the one’, or ‘I want to go back.’ There’s no ‘the one’. There’s no going back. The past is past. What’s dead is dead. And we know this, rationally. But part of the mind rebels.

Perhaps in the future, some method will be found to force broken brains to let go of their unhealthy attachments. Or perhaps we’ll find some way to pass on our unhappiness to artificial intelligences, so that they can sit in states of wistful melancholy for the rest of time, clinging to meanings that can’t ever be fulfilled.

But it’s just so…absurd. You have a species of highly intelligent ape, evolved to adapt to almost every condition on earth, with so many instincts to survive. And then somehow, due to the incredible complexities of society and the brain that interacts with it, some percentage of these apes manage to tie themselves in complete knots mentally, to the extent that it greatly threatens their survival prospects. Who would write such a comedy?

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

Fear is my constant companion. Not sheer terror, but a background hum of dread and unease. I would distinguish it from anxiety, which manifests in many worries about trivial details of everyday life. This runs deeper, and colors  everything I do.

I fear judgement. Being confronted with the things I’ve done, and having to answer for them. For others to see the wretchedness within me.

There are fundamental parts of me that I can recognize are wrong, rationally speaking. That could cause great harm in certain circumstances. And yet they don’t feel wrong, in themselves. Quite the opposite. That’s part of the problem. The guilt and the shame only really kick in afterwards, once the positive feeling has subsided. And the fear. I fear this part of myself. I fear others seeing it.

There is no way to make it ok, or acceptable. And I don’t think there’s a way to reliably change it. I think I’ve tried, to the extent it’s possible to try to let go of something you’re fundamentally attached to. It may fade over time, over the years, with different patterns of life. But for the time being at least, I’m stuck with it.

There are certainly things that I can do to contain it, and I’m fairly confident in doing so. But the fact of it remains. The fundamentally unacceptable nature of it remains. Which leaves me fundamentally unacceptable. And the recognition of this generates constant fear.

A deep part of me demands that I find some way to make it all right. To make myself completely acceptable. To wipe the slate clean. But there is no way to make it ok. What’s done is done. And what’s unacceptable within me remains. I could tear my life down to the foundations and spend the rest of it repenting, and I still don’t think it would save me.

This leads to thoughts of self-destruction. If I cannot be ‘made right’, then I should remove my wrongness from this Earth. But apparently, my fear of death is currently even greater. So here I remain.

So I have to find some way to live with the fear, dread, shame, self-disgust, loneliness, & regret. Of embracing the possibility that at any point the truth may catch up with me, and my life will utterly crumble around me, leaving my wretchedness exposed to all. And I have to do a better job of it than I have so far. I have to find some way of living a worthwhile, meaningful life, so that I don’t give myself even more cause for regret. Living with the constant fear of judgment, and of punishment.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I keep getting sucked back into the past, searching for a time when things still felt meaningful. When I could still sometimes convince myself that I was acceptable. It’s a long time ago now. I desperately want to go back, and somehow preserve that illusion. Stop myself from ruining everything. Push myself to find real connections. Prepare myself for the world. Live a worthwhile life. Find peace.

And I know thinking about all this is pointless and counterproductive. The past is the past. What’s done is done. Those possibilities are simply not open to me anymore, however painful it may be to acknowledge it. The only question is what to do going forward. It seems that I’m too afraid to end things, and lack the necessary conviction to overcome that fear right now. So until something changes, I may as well try and make the best of things. May as well try to limit the amount of suffering I cause myself.

But I don’t know how to stop. My subconscious is desperately seeking it’s way back to a time when life still felt meaningful. When I felt that it was worth living. When I wasn’t disconnected from all beauty & purpose. I don’t know how to live without that comfort. The world is cold, lonely, ugly, and brutal. Without any of the distractions of love, friendship, personal integrity, and spirituality, I don’t know how to function. There’s nothing to hope for, nothing worth suffering for, nothing to comfort or console.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

Much of the time, I find myself wondering if I should end it, before things have a chance to get really bad. Because things can get really bad. Burning alive, ending up horribly mutilated. Spending the rest of your life locked up, facing torture & violent assault, or permanent isolation. Disabled and in agony and unable to move. Things can apparently get really fucking bad.

Perhaps I’m just a coward, or I’m hyper-averse to negative experience. Maybe those are both the same thing. But over and again I come across experiences that make me wonder ‘Is continuing to live worth risking this?’ And the fear of it hangs over me.

Now most of those experiences are rare. Not many people burn to death, or are drowned trapped in a sinking ship. Not many westerners experience the terror of war. Very few people in the modern age experience being torn apart by a pack of wild animals. Odds are I die of a stroke, or heart attack, or cancer, or any number of other unpleasant but mundane ends.

But the danger feels real. The fear is there. What if I get hit by a car next time I cross the street? What if I’m left permanently brain-damaged, unable to move, but in constant pain? What if something truly horrific happens and I don’t have a way to end it? What if my past catches up with me, and I lose my freedom to act?

I have no way to rationally weigh that danger. I know that it’s real. I know that horrific shit happens every single day. Things that leave even successful, happy, functional people begging for someone to put them out of their misery. That if we live long enough, we all end up incapacitated to some degree, and lose control of our fate. And a huge part of me wants to end it now – on my terms, in my way, calmly and with minimal pain, while I still can. On some level that feels like the sensible choice. So that I don’t find myself desperately wishing that I’d done so, when it suddenly becomes too late.

And yet, I’m not going through with it. I’m not doing the research I need, or ordering the equipment, or arranging my location. And when I ask myself why, all I come up with is more fear. I’m scared to stay, and scared to go. And still seemingly very attached to the idea of living, for some reason.

I don’t know if I have it in me to overcome that fear, and if I could if it would be ‘for the best’ to end it. I’m still emotionally invested in the possibilities of this life, though my prospects of any kind of fulfillment are dismal by anyone’s standards. I’m pretty much the lowest of the low, the guy you look at and feel glad you’re not him. Things at the moment are sad, frustrating, uncomfortable, and incredibly lonely, but I can still distract myself from it sometimes. I still have some level of control.

I wish I had some way of judging whether taking the risk of continuing to live, of things getting truly horrific, was ‘worth it.’ How would you even assess something like that?

If I’m going to move forward in life, I need some way of putting that fear in context – of being at peace with how terrible things can get, and resolving that I’m happy to take that chance. If I’m going to end it, I need some way of overcoming my fear of death, and of letting go of my attachments to this world.

I don’t want to be stuck between anymore.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

Every day is the same. I spin through the same cycle of emotions. I long not to feel so alone anymore. To have a partner, a wife. Someone I’d want to spend my days with. Someone better than me. Someone who understood. A connection.

The truth is, I don’t deserve it. Nobody could see who I really am and still want to be with me. At least not anyone that I’d want to be with. It’s hard to imagine a woman on my level, but I think they’d have to be highly deranged, as well as repulsive, to be desperate enough to want me. Possibly a psychotic axe murderer? Maybe the character Kathy Bates played in Misery? But like I said, I’d only want someone better than me. Someone good. Something I don’t deserve. Which is not really how love seems to work. I wouldn’t want someone as worthless as myself.

And I tell myself ‘Well, you’ll somehow make yourself better. You’ll become someone you’re not ashamed to let others see. You’ll make yourself worthy of love.’ But I don’t really believe it. No matter how many good things I might do with my life, nothing will make my past acceptable. And I can’t see the parts of me that led to this shameful place ever going away. I may have changed my actions somewhat, but those drives within me are still present. Being conscious of how awful I am doesn’t really change that awfulness. I haven’t changed, not really. I just act a bit differently at the moment. Nobody aware of my true thoughts and desires could think ‘this is someone I want in my life.’

I’ll never be able to be really open with anyone (excepting a therapist who’s agreed to keep it confidential.) The most I could manage would be a sham relationship, deceiving someone into believing that I’m worthy of their love. And even then, I’d spend each day riven with anxiety, trying to keep up the pretense, fearful of my past catching up with me.

But that’s not what I want. I want something real. I want to feel a real connection with someone. I want that mutual understanding, someone I can be emotionally honest with. I want not to be alone with my experience of life anymore. And I think I’ve made it impossible for myself to ever find that.

And I don’t know how to stop wanting that. Every day, I’m constantly bombarded by reminders of people who seem to have at least some part of that, and the longing gets triggered. And I can’t see any real way to satisfy that. I have no real hope.

I’m still too afraid to end it. And for now, I don’t think I can sufficiently convince myself that it’s ‘for the best’ to overcome that fear. There’s all kinds of other motivations and interests that might be easier to fulfill during the remainder of my life, and that makes me doubt.

But I keep getting dragged back, day after day, to this impossible longing. It overshadows everything else that I try to focus on, eating away at the back of my mind. I don’t know how to live without some hope of fulfilling that fundamental need for real connection.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

Life and me…we don’t mix well. And a large part of that is on me. I had to be the one with all this neurotic shit built into the very foundation of his mind. Everyone else seems to do just fine without thinking about it (though maybe some are in denial.) But I had to be the one to get all hung up on what cannot be. So I get to spend years torturing myself over this fucking dumb distortion. My mind is fucking broken, at the deepest emotional level. The thing that feels most meaningful in this world is something that cannot be. And rather than moving on and focusing on something else like any healthy brain would, mine keeps dragging me back, at the dead of night, when I’m too weak and tired to resist anymore.

It’s my fault, no question. The problem’s in me. Buried in my fucking cranium. Computer error. No normal, mentally healthy person would experience this. But the thing is, I can kind of see where this bug came from (though that doesn’t help me fix it.) And given the circumstances of life, a certain tiny proportion of humanity was always going to end up in this fucked up position. Sure, the mentally weak, the hypersensitive, those who fixate. But nobody chooses such traits. They come built into the fucking software, or else get scripted in the early years. My point being, life was always going to seem like some uniquely devised torture for a certain tiny proportion of people. J’accuse you, life!

Obviously, life doesn’t care. It’s an objective, unconscious process, like gravity. But on some level, we feel it should. We feel our deepest psychological longings should be capable of being met. That evolution should not produce emotional drives that are impossible to satisfy. We feel that the game should not be rigged. It’s not fair, dammit! We feel that there should be some uniquely true purpose to this life. That our deepest feelings should somehow guide us toward peace. That our experiences were mandated by some benevolent force.

Well, it seems to me that if this life were bought into being by some creative force, they were asleep at the fucking wheel! Perhaps they just didn’t give a fuck that a certain proportion of people would end up mentally screwed by the process they set in motion? Gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette, right?

Of course, that’s exactly the type of thing a disturbed, twisted individual like myself would think. We need to maintain the belief that all human evil, all suffering, arose ex nihilo, within each individual, completely independent of what came before. Couldn’t possibly allow our perfect universe to be tainted by the idea that some of us were created to suffer. That such bugs were built into the program from the very beginning. What kind of sadistic asshole would allow that? Get tae fuck!

TLDR; Fuck life, fuck God, fuck this world, fuck 2019, & most especially fuck me.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I keep asking myself over and over ‘why aren’t I ending it?’ And the only real answers I can seem to come up with are fear and attachment.

It’s hard to pinpoint what it is about death that scares me. Perhaps it’s the uncertainty. I tend to assume that death is the end – that when the brain dies, all experience ceases. But what if I’m wrong about that? What if consciousness can somehow continue beyond the physical? I fear that. I fear being trapped in a worse state of existence, with no ability to change things. I fear judgement. Being confronted with all the terrible things that I’ve done, and the worse that I desire. I fear punishment. I fear torment. I fear eternity. I fear being stuck in a never-ending state of regret, shame, self-loathing, and despair. I don’t believe, but I fear.

But why not take that chance? Everyone dies at some point. Why not take that leap now, and hope that it works out favorably? Bring to an end my current suffering, avoid how much worse things are likely to get, and face the risk that things might get worse a little sooner than they otherwise would? I suppose the idea is to try and live in a way that somehow avoids a worse fate after death – but I’m not doing that. Because I don’t really believe in anything enough to commit to facing more suffering in life, in the hopes of avoiding punishment/hell/other. I’m not going to confess all that I’ve done, Crime & Punishment style, in the hope that facing a lifetime of retribution will somehow save my eternal soul. I don’t believe enough to put myself through that.

It may be that all of that is simply rationalization – that the fear is instinctive, for any animal anticipating it’s death. I don’t know if that means that it should be overcome, and that I should try to go through with it anyway. I do think it’s fair to say that overall the world would probably be better off without someone like me in it, and it would be better if my individual experience of existence came to an end.

But that brings me up against the other element of resistance, attachment. In some sense I think I’m attached to my suffering. To my experience of pain. I both strongly feel that it should no longer be, yet also can’t seem to contemplate letting go of it. There’s this resistance to the thought that where there is now sound, and irritation, sensation, anguish, craving, despair, anger, there should simply be silence.

Again, I don’t know if that’s something I should be attempting to overcome. Rationally, it seems better that such negative experience should come to an end. But I don’t think I could ever bring myself to actually go through with it. The instinctive resistance just seems too strong, on a level that undercuts rational thought.

But that leaves me trying to live (for the time being). And I don’t know how to do that either. I don’t know how to live with the mess that I’ve made of my life. I don’t know how to live with being me. With who I am. I don’t think it’s salvageable. The things I want from life – it’s just not possible anymore, if it ever was. And I don’t know how to live with that. To not be consumed by the regret, the longing, the craving, the self-hatred. I’m so full of fear, negativity, of hatred, anger, and resentment. And I don’t know how to live with that. I just want it to cease. Except seemingly not enough to make it happen. I want not to be me anymore. Yet I’m too attached to my experience to let go.

I’m stuck, going round and round in circles. I know something has to change, sooner or later. Yet I can’t seem to bring myself to make it happen. I don’t have good enough reasons to motivate myself to live. But I can’t bring myself to end it.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

I want so many contradictory, conflicting, impossible things. I want to utterly destroy myself, but I also want to preserve myself for as long as possible. I want to find love, but I also don’t want anyone to ever see me as I really am. I want to save the world, but also to end it all. I want to avoid causing suffering wherever possible, but I also want to selfishly increase the risk of others suffering. I want to put myself out of my misery, but I also want to postpone a worse existence after death. I want a wife and children, but I also don’t want the responsibilities of parenthood. I want to accumulate money, status, & power, while also believing that such things would leave me hollow.

My mind is this constant flux of contradictory attitudes, motivations, and beliefs. I don’t know how to live with it. I wish I could just be one consistent person. Most of all, I want to go back, to before I felt so conflicted. But that’s not possible.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)

Feels kind of intrusive asking about this, but keep finding myself wondering. Last time I saw her on here a few months back she seemed to be on the edge of an attempt. The obvious conclusion would be that she went through with it, but I guess I’d like to know, one way or the other, if anyone heard anything further. Hoping she’s somehow moved on with her life or is maybe just lurking/under a different name. It’s weird how you can get invested in someone’s online persona just by reading their posts over time, but thinking of her ending things like that leaves me sad for the world in a way a random story wouldn’t. Truth is, I wish things were different for everyone here. So much in this life is completely f*cked.

[!] Report this post

Processing your request, Please wait....

Report as:	Choose one from belowRequesting Suicide PartnerDiscussing Specific Suicide MethodsHateful PostHateful or Inappropriate CommentsReligiousSpam or AdvertisingOther
Write in Words: (Optional)