Denial is difficult to maintain. In order to function and remain alive, I must engage with reality to some extent. But then inevitably reminders of the truth leak in, And the truth feels unbearable. I don’t know how to live with the truth. I don’t want to live with the truth. I don’t want to live as the person who’s done the things I’ve done, or seen the things I’ve seen. I can’t stand it, seeing myself as that person. There’s no meaning in living in that reality. Maybe I’m too proud, or narcissistic, or conceited, or idealistic. Whatever the fuck it is, acknowledging that […]
It’s hard to motivate yourself when you know there are only bad options. No matter which you choose, it won’t be what you need. Some paths are still less shitty than others. But most of them end in more or less the same place.
The path I tell myself I’ve chosen is one of gradually letting go, of the obsessions, cravings, and regrets that consume me. But also of the hopes and dreams that I cling to to keep me going. Perhaps whoever I’ll be at the end of that road is less miserable.
But that path requires a lot of work, which I never get to. […]
So… for a few years now, I’ve been quietly dreading the death of the family dog. She’s nearly 16 now, very old for a retriever. She’s actually my parents’ dog, but they got her while I was still living with them, and I raised her for the first few months, and spent a lot of time caring for her/playing with her over the years. For a while I was her substitute “parent” – she used to fall asleep on me when she was a puppy. As sad as it is to say, it’s probably the closest I’ll get to an actual parental/caring role in my […]
I’m tired of being this. And I don’t think I have it in me to be anything else. I tell myself that I’m going to change, but I never actually do anything. Deep down, I don’t really believe anything is worth doing. I’ve ruined my life, and ruined my mind, and any changes at this point can only marginally delay the ship sinking.
I think the biggest struggle for me is getting myself to do anything beyond the bare minimum. All the tiny little things that might make my life a bit less shitty. I do so few of them. Because why push myself to improve things a small amount, if they’re still going to suck?
Ever since I broke my sense of meaning by deviating so far from morality, I’ve been in this perpetual state of lethargy. 16 years now. Pretty much my entire adulthood. I wake up, and try to force myself out of bed. Remind myself of all the things I should be doing, why I’m […]
I’ve written variations of this many times before, but I’m still trying to figure it out.
The majority of my suffering is self-generated. Meaning it emerges as a result of who I am as a person. I obviously have my fair share of physical aches and pains, which are less directly down to problems with who I am. But the mental stuff feels far worse, and it’s generally completely unnecessary. No purpose is served by my being swallowed by feelings of isolation, loss and despair.
I wouldn’t expect to ever have complete control over my emotions. But it seems like it is possible to alter over time […]
The dissonance between the raging sickness inside and whatever passes for my conscience grows more intense daily. It’s so bizarre to feel so emotionally hijacked and captivated by it one moment, and a few hours later to catch myself moralising the actions of others and feeling for the pain of the world. How could such opposite creatures exist within the same head. I feel I must be lying to myself about any pretence of empathy The sick part of me must rule all, must define me. And in the eyes of any outsider, it understandably will.
I think the reality is probably that my extreme inhumanity […]
I don’t mean the kind of failure where you don’t reach particular goals or aspirations. That kind applies to everyone. I don’t mean superficial failings, like not being attractive or financially successful, though I have certainly failed in those aspects. I don’t even mean more fundamental life failures, like not finding a partner, friends, a career, or building a family, though again I have absolutely failed in those areas. What I’m trying to get at is a more basic failing, that makes all the rest near impossible to work on.
I have failed morally. As a human being. To cultivate a personality and psychology worthy of […]
Few things make me want to say “fuck it” more than explicit reminders of how horrifying what I’ve done is to the rest of society. Of course on some level I know how awful it was. But most of the time I don’t actually feel that. It’s so mixed up with conflicting positive feelings that it doesn’t really connect.
But every now and then I get a stark summary of how the rest of the world actually views people like me. And I don’t want to live in that world. I refuse to exist in that reality. I can’t see any meaning to being that person […]
It’s hard to not be defined by your bad past choices. They shape who you are in the present.
Whereas everyone else in my family earned qualifications, built careers, formed relationships, created families…
I dropped out, isolated myself, ruined my mind and my body, and alienated myself from humanity. I’m a 36-year-old with less social experience than the average 15-year-old. On top of which I’ve built a whole host of negative traits in the time I should’ve been doing normal life stuff.
I don’t have the experience of functioning in a relationship. I don’t know what that’s like. I don’t know what it’s like to have close friendships. […]
I am the cause of my own pointless suffering. It’s being generated within me. So I feel a sense of responsibility to try and reduce it. Because I’m the only one that can. Not that others can’t ever provide assistance. But they can’t fix me. They can’t save me. They can’t change me. I’m on my own, and it’s probably always going to be that way.
The problem is that I don’t feel like I have to capacity to effectively help myself. I feel exhausted and full of despair most of the time. Often it’s like I’m barely in control of myself. I wasted half an […]
When it comes to what one “should” do, it seems to me there are different standards. There’s the pure, selfless, self-sacrificing standard, where you do what’s best for the group, regardless of the cost to yourself. We encourage people who follow that kind of standard by labelling them heroes (or saints), and remembering their deeds even after their death.
As appealing as that kind of validation is, I don’t aspire to that standard. Probably because I’m far too morally tainted to ever be regarded as “pure” or “virtuous”, no matter what I do. But when I am minded to consider the wellbeing of others, I generally […]
The desires that burn within me are seemingly inexhaustible. Presumably that’s why I’m still alive. Because if I’m dead then that’s the end for them. Even though I’m doing very little to pursue them, and there seems to be very little chance that any of them will ever be fulfilled.
There’s something so depressing about being able to see the futility of the motivations and drives within you, yet having nothing else within you strong enough to override them. Reason being ultimately the slave of the passions. The only thing that could overpower my will to live would be the development of a stronger will to […]
I cannot let myself be seen, by anyone. I cannot reach out, to anyone. I’m alone. Maybe we’re all alone. But most people don’t seem so alone. It seems like most people are able to convince themselves they’re not alone. If they’re delusional, then that seems preferable to this.
I need to be brainwashed. To have all the filth wiped away from my mind. So I can convince myself that I’m worthy of someone else’s company. That they won’t be disgusted and repulsed by me. So then I won’t have to be alone. So then I can reach out and have someone there, who recognises my […]
It’s not that I want to stop existing. It’s that I want to stop existing like this. Full of regret, sadness, longing, loneliness. And I can’t see any plausible ways to make that happen. If I put in enough effort and time, then maybe I could earn myself a little relief. But a lot of the time, the thought of just ceasing to be seems preferable.
I don’t view death as a liberation, or an escape. More just a dissolution of what I am now back into the rest of the world. I don’t know what it’s like to be bacteria, or a worm, or a […]
The only things I feel strongly about are either impossible, or so loaded with negative consequences that it would be wrong to attempt them. There’s nothing else in life I really want, or care about. Nothing feels that meaningful.
I do the bare minimum that I feel is necessary to survive, because I’m scared of the finality of dying. Otherwise… nothing. I try to escape into fantasies or the stories of those who have more of a reason to live than I do.
Forcing myself to work feels like pulling teeth. It’s dull, but the pay’s fine, and I can work from home. It would be OK, […]
I can’t help thinking about what life would be like if I’d made different choices. Of course, in order to choose differently, I would’ve had to have been a different person, living in a different reality. But what if things were just ever so slightly different. If something else had caught my attention, just long enough to prevent me from doing something terrible. And if I’d avoided that, would I have found my way out of my depressive self-hating spiral? Would I have rediscovered my purpose in life, and re-engaged with the world? Would there be a different version of me lying here now, with […]
I am disgusting. I’m mostly in denial about that fact. But I am. I’m so covered in filth that nothing in this world could ever make me clean. And that’s a problem, because I would quite like at least one person in this world to really understand me, while still caring about me. And that’s not possible. Because if you understand me, you understand that I’m repulsive, and you want nothing to do with me.
So I will always be alone, unless I fool others into believing I’m not repulsive. In which case I will be permanently acting, and will still feel alone and unloved. So… […]
I can’t be what I want to be. I can’t live the life I want to live. So I want nothing. I want not to want anymore. I want there to be someone worthwhile in the space I’m occupying, putting it to good use. But that’s not something I can control.
I don’t want to devastate my family. I don’t want that pain for them. So I don’t want to kill myself. I just want to not exist anymore. Or to never have been. Or really, to have been someone different. But that’s not something I can control.
In order to not die, I have to live. […]
So I’m standing on a railway platform, leaning against a pillar, waiting for my train. Looking ahead of me, trying to keep my anxiety under control, and not to get too caught up in depressing thoughts. As another train pulls in behind me, I notice a couple of girls smiling down at me from the raised street level across the tracks in front of me. They’re waving and shouting something at me, but I can’t hear a word because of the noise. I look confused, and gesture that I can’t hear, but they keep waving & smiling. Now there’s no reason for them to have […]