I spend a large part of each day trying to remember why I’m still alive. It slips away from me so fast, and all I’m left with is the nagging sense that everything is wrong. The isolation, the loneliness, the longing, the fear. Things are not ‘ok’, and it’s unlikely they will ever be ‘ok’ again. They’re just not bad enough (yet) to overcome the terror of death. And until that changes, all I can do is prepare, and try to make things as easy for myself as I can. The problem is keeping that clear in my mind, when a large part of my […]
Wanting things is a problem. If I could just not care about anything, then no problems. No fear of losing out. No fear of death or pain. Just lie here in tranquility until my body shuts down, and gets returned to the earth. These atoms could be put to such better use in someone else. Someone without a me in their mind, twisting and tormenting them.
But there is wanting. There is attachment. There is fear. So I will lie here a while longer. But then I will get up, and continue the pretense that there is good reason for this organism to continue.
Life is a process of discomfort. Rarely excruciating, but always threatening. Toothache, backache, stomach ache, headache. Heartache. There is always something that hurts. And it only gets worse as you get older. Things wear down, and reach a point where there’s no recovery. And then you’re just stuck with the ache – this nagging reminder that your body is slowly falling apart. And part of me just wants to be free of it. But never enough to actually end it. To overcome the delusional parts that still want to live. So instead I lie, wallowing in my pain. And look for ways to temporarily numb […]
There are things I should probably be doing, in order to live a better life. To be a bit less miserable. But I don’t know how to bring myself to actually do them. To be less bad as a person. Because it requires confronting reality. And reality fills me with despair. It requires acknowledging the things that I’ve done, and the worse things that I want to do, and how fucked up it all is. And the fact that I will never be able to connect with another person because of that.
And recognizing all that makes me want to curl up in a ball and […]
I’m living for a delusion. A fantasy. And I know that. It’s never going to work out. In the end, all I’ll be left with is my sad lonely little reality. But I can’t stop myself. I’m not in control. I’m so enthralled by the fantasy that I’ll keep sitting through the pain day after day, just for a chance to pretend.
It’s so pathetic. I’m just another dumb meat robot, lumbering on in the vain pursuit of procreation. But cursed with the awareness that it’s hopeless, and all that’s left is pain.
Reason is the slave of the passions. It doesn’t matter that suicide is the […]
It would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic. The thing that consumes my mind, that seems so amazing and essential, is also one of the worst things in the world. What feels good is also terrible. What kind of exquisite mindfuck is that? Almost as if I’ve devised the perfect method to mentally torture myself.
It’s been almost 4 years since I last went to that place. I think about it often. I might go back at any point. I might’ve gone back today. I seriously considered it. I still might. 4 years teetering on the edge, barely holding myself back. Why? It’s not […]
I’ve spent so many years trying to numb the pain that came with self-awareness. Recognizing what I really am destroyed me, and I can’t see anyway back from that. But I also can’t bring myself to end it. And I can’t stand this cage I’ve built for myself. I want to be invested in life again. To really feel, rather than constantly managing and denying feelings. But the feeling often seems unbearable.
I don’t want to lie to myself anymore. To hide the truth behind rationalization and reason. I don’t want to be this detached zombie. But I can’t stand the truth. The truth makes me […]
The only thing I fear more than life is death. Or more specifically, what might lie beyond. Things would have to be utterly terrifying here for that leap in the dark to seem preferable. It could easily get that bad, but until then I’m stuck. I’m suffering, and in pain, and I hate it. I’ll complain, ***** and moan, struggling with myself, desperate looking for some way out. But I won’t actually do the one thing that would end it all. Not until my future in this world is so scary that death seems easier. Fear is everything in my life.
No matter how many times the shame hits me, I know I will return to it. I know the thoughts in my head are wrong. I feel it, every time. The recognition of how fucked up it is. But I just don’t care. There’s no version of me that I wouldn’t be ashamed of. So why not push it, right to the edge? Think and feel the worst things I could possibly think and feel. Be the most wretched creature I’m capable of being.
There is conflict inside my mind, but that side of me will always win. I don’t care enough to deny it. To […]
How do you become one, consistent, coherent self? I want so many conflicting & incompatible things, and my mind swings between them from minute to minute. They may all be impossible anyway. Doing anything may be futile. But if I could just maintain a consistent mindset for a few weeks in a row, I could at least move toward something. Instead of being paralyzed.
I don’t know what to do. How do you make lasting decisions, when your motivations are continually fluctuating? When you passionately want something one minute, and couldn’t give a shit the next. How do you live like that?
I dreamt a lot last night. It wasn’t pleasant (it rarely is.) I dreamt of doing terrible things. Or wanting to do them. Of being on the verge of doing them.
And I dreamt of figures from my past, in new contexts. But I felt their disdain for me, and knew it was well earned. That they despised me, and were not wrong to do so. I had pretended to be someone else, and my true worthlessness had been revealed.
I don’t know at what point I became worthy of such disdain. I feel it was long before my worst acts. Maybe my personality was always shameful. […]
I am an awful person. From every standpoint. No matter your philosophy, your personality, your politics, pretty much everyone can agree that I am scum – the lowest of the low. I am one of those quiet figures that drift through life in the background, keeping their evil intent hidden until it’s finally exposed. You may know that something’s off when you look in my eyes, but it only clicks into place when the truth is revealed.
Unfortunately (for me), I’m not a psychopath. I feel the shame of what I am. The isolation of it. Living with myself is hard. I don’t sleep well at […]
I’m stuck in a very strange position. It seems that overall my life is not worth living, so from a purely self-interested point of view I should probably kill myself. But I’m still very much attached to the idea of life, and afraid of death. So I instinctively don’t want to do it. I also believe that it would devastate my family, likely causing them greater suffering than I’m in now. So I also shouldn’t do it from an objective moral viewpoint, at least as long as my parents are still alive and so invested in me.
But when they pass on, or when something gets […]
I am the ghost of Christmas depravity. Don’t worry, you have to fuck up real bad to end up here.
I’ve made myself alone, always. Even when surrounded by people, laughing and smiling. What I’ve done is always there, in the background, separating us. If they only knew…
There’s no way to make it ok, or wipe the slate clean. I have to live with what I am, with the fear and shame of it. I am not safe to be around people – not safe to exist in the same world or breathe the same air.
I deserve worse than this. To be trapped with the knowledge […]
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 […]