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It’s not enough

by tphg
written by tphg

God,

You know I don’t believe in you, but I’m asking you to throw me a bone. In your own special way, you’ve given me everything I’ve asked for, so I hope you’re willing to spare some more fairy dust for me. I’m just not sure exactly what to ask for. It’s all to do with women. Everything else, I have a handle on, but you know that I’m a completely fool around women. I don’t know what to do. I think I want a partner, I get a partner, but then regret it immediately. What’s wrong with me? Why am I incapable of being close with someone else? Is it the voices in my head? Is it because I started talking to myself and didn’t stop in time and now I’m only really interested in hearing what my brain has to say/think?

I’m always at a loss for words whenever I’m around an object of my affection. I want the closeness, I want something, I think? I just feel sad. I see everyone else enjoying each other and I want that for myself, but in practice, I always fuck it up. Invariably, my urge to flee to a dark corner and let my mind race hits me and I end up dumping whoever I’m with in unceremonious fashion. I want someone for me, that’s what it is. I don’t want to change so that I’m more open to the general population, I want you to send me someone that can replace the voice in my head (however crazy that may sound). I think you know what I mean though, someone who indulges in what I indulge in, a person cut from the same cloth. I want to feel connected to woman, but more importantly, I want to WANT to feel connected to someone. I don’t want to run away, and I don’t want them to run away from me.

I will do everything else, but if you could send me someone like that, and give me some kind of sign that she’s on the way so that I have something to look forward to, I’d really appreciate it.

 

Tyrone

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you know what’s great?

by tphg
written by tphg

Starving myself all day (I don’t have a natural appetite so it happens whether I want it to or not)

and then getting stoned at the end of the day and gorging on Mcdonalds and candy. I finished eating the other night and was laying in bed watching the absolute worst movie, Deep Blue Sea. I used to love it when I was a teen, but now that I’m older, the plot holes are a lot more apparent. Well anyway, I was watching this stinker, and I didn’t really want to be, but I was in such a state of zen and relaxation after eating so much crap that I just laid there and watched it right to its terribly cheesy (and nonsensical) ending.

I went to visit my mum and brother on Sunday (hadn’t seen them in 2 weeks) and she remarked at how skinny I was getting. I didn’t know what to tell her cause she caught me off guard and she doesn’t know about my depression (and she wouldn’t be able to understand; she’s special needs). Luckily, my little brother came to my rescue and said that I only look that way cause I was wearing short sleeves, but I usually wear long sleeves. He doesn’t know about how deep my depression goes either, but he knows that I’m pretty fucking miserable.

I’m having lunch with a co-worker on Friday, but I’m not sure why. We’re not friends; at best we’re friendly acquaintances. She knows I have suicidal thoughts cause I stupidly revealed them to her in a moment of weakness, so I guess she feels obligated to watch over me or whatever. She tried to get me to see a special therapist, but I talked her out of it. It was just so weird, because like I said, we’re not friends. No doubt she thought I was reaching out for help when I divulged the truth about my dark and dirty cream center filling, but I just really like venting is all. I explained to her that I’ve been down the therapy road and have no use for it, and reassured her that while I am passively suicidal, I’m no real danger to myself. She seemed to accept that explanation because she hasn’t spoken to me for well over a month, until today when she brought up lunch. I have no use for her friendship (my issues are beyond the remedies of fresh air, exercise and socializing) but I’m terrible at saying no. Maybe if she were single I’d be more inclined to put forward some effort but she’s not so I don’t understand the need for us to connect on any level. She’s gonna talk about all the new and exciting things she’s doing in life and I’m going to sit there in relative silence just smiling and asking the odd question to keep the conversation going. Stupid humans, I wish they’d all just disappear and leave me to my devices.

That’s enough venting for now. Gonna go home soon and try to shower (water issues at my apartment and my landlord is giving me the runaround, the asshole!).

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show of hands

by tphg
written by tphg

Who here has social anxiety that extends to the internet? It’s a lot easier to share my thoughts online, and it doesn’t bother me who reads, but talking to people directly via comments sends me into a state of panic. Even positives comments leave me flustered to the point that I have to close my browser and go do something else for a little while. Here, making comments on news stories, youtube videos; all so nerve wracking.

I figure that most people are their bodies, or have convinced themselves that they are their bodies, but I’ve convinced myself that I’m inside my body controlling it. All of my interactions with living creatures, whether human or animal, is strained because I don’t feel the full effect of socializing and closeness. My body does; my body wants a full life with all the bells and whistles, but it never ever feels right. I never feel present, in the moment. My body is susceptible to time, but I exist somewhere that is timeless.

Derealization, depersonalization, something in between. My body went through puberty but I didn’t; I can tell the difference between something that I want, and something my body wants. It pokes me and says, “hey look, a woman.” but I have no practical use for one in my life. I’m definitely holding myself back, like the flu, but I don’t want the life that my body wants. It sounds nice, wife, kids, house in the burbs with a white picket fence, high paying career, muscles, but it’s too much heavy lifting and change for my taste.

I don’t want it, but my body does. There’s no real struggle as I’m mostly in control of my actions thanks to weed, but I wonder if I’m actually dysfunctional or more normal than I think. I wonder if I should be fighting so hard against the will of my biology. It’s just that, life gets messy when you add other people to it. Showering this morning, I thought of how clean my bathroom and overall apartment are, and how filthy it’d be if I lived with someone else. I’ve got some serious hangups and keeping things spotless is one of them.

I told some people on here that it’s not hard to meet women if they’re committed to the idea, and I truly believe that. Thing is, I’m not committed at all, but my body is.

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cause it’s like,

by tphg
written by tphg

I could be her friend if I really wanted to, but I’d have to wear a costume, and those aren’t very comfortable after a while.  You start to sweat and the built up perspiration makes it muggy inside and so it gets hard to breathe; it’s a whole ordeal. I’d get to know her, but she’d never get to know the real me, and I want so badly for someone to see and accept me for who I really am. I could be her friend, but it wouldn’t be real. It’d be real enough for her, sure, but what it would amount to is a hassle for me.

But if I never give anyone a chance to know the real me, how will I ever find someone to love me? After she caught me browsing Suicide Project, she said that if I ever wanted to talk about anything, I could come to her. I nicely dismissed her desire to play armchair therapist, but maybe I should take a chance and let her in. More than anyone else, she seems accepting of less than sunny personalities. The only hurdles left are fear and love. I fear that I have romantic feelings for her and that they won’t be reciprocated because she’s older than me and possibly already dating someone. I also fear that my perpetual loneliness is once again masquerading as affection, and that if I couple with her, my true feelings will surface and I’ll want to be alone again. Those feelings being that I was more in love with the IDEA of being with someone, and not actually having a relationship.

Why don’t I just e-mail her and ask her to lunch? Cause it’s not a road I want to travel. I’d like the perks of cuddling and inside jokes and having someone to do mundane life stuff with, but whenever I get with a woman, I always want out. I like imagining myself going on dates and “getting some”, having a big wedding, the excitement of the first pregnancy, but I feel totally inadequate for that kind of life. I’m 29 but don’t feel old enough to do any of those things. What’s up with that?

If I ask her out, I’m afraid that I’ll realize that I don’t even really like her. Besides, I already promised myself not to date anymore of my co-workers. I was just lucky that the last co-worker I dated quit soon after we broke up because it was SUPER awkward being around her. Just let it go Huggie Bear; plenty of fish in the sea for you to overthink about. Let it go.

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AA2I2

by tphg
written by tphg

I really appreciate the comments you made on my last couple posts. You’re the type of friend that I wish I could hang out with on a regular basis. It used to bother me that my group of friends only took time out of their schedules to hang out once every couple months, but now I don’t care at all. They’re all drinkers but none of them smoke, and I don’t drink but will smoke my weight in cheeba, so being with them tends to get boring after awhile anyway.

I find that people who don’t light up are trapped in their own way of thinking, and the older they get, the more close minded they become. I mentioned to Wndozh8er in one of his last posts that I’m surrounded by loving and supportive people, but that’s only because I smile and nod and go along with whatever they say. I’m easy going and say and do whatever I have to to blend in with them when I’m out in their world, and it’s exhausting! Rarely am I relaxed and feeling free enough to act like my true self when in the company of others. My dealer and smoker cousins are the only people I like to chill with because we have the best conversations. Now that I think about it, my love for smoking is another major hurdle that keeps me from wanting to socialize and date people. Thinking back to the end of the movie Half Baked, when Dave Chappelle’s character throws away his last joint so that he can be with the love of his life, I would choose the joint over the woman lol If you don’t smoke or have some sort of mental dysfunction like I do, then I don’t really wanna hear your life story lol I’ve stopped giving non-smokers the time of day; I’m a weed snob! lol

Cheers buddy! This next bud’s for you @_@

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HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

by tphg
written by tphg

ha-ha! I’ve got tears in my eyes.

I’ve been laughing perpetually for the last 3-4 months. I can hear this crazed, deranged laughter in my mind whenever I start to think about the fact that I’m still alive. Nothing matters to me, and some deep down part of me finds it hilarious that I have to live without purpose (the same part of me that laughs when old people fall). I could inject some meaning into my life, but that’s the last thing I want. I don’t want anything to do, people to talk to, or anything really. Just silence, that’s all I care for.

I made a post last week about being too much of a chicken shit to ask a girl out, but the fact is, I don’t want to go out. Sure, I’ve got plenty of social anxiety, but my resistance to coupling is more than that. Beyond my low self-esteem is apathy for all things. It’s my biology that wants a partner, not me; I can like any female who looks half decent and is nice enough.

This novel I’ve been planning for the last few years will never get written. I have no reason to write it. I don’t have any reason to write out any of the ideas I have. It’s all a big waste of time because ….. :drumroll: ….. I don’t want to live! I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care, oh god I don’t care. And yet here I am, everyday, living and breathing, working for money to feed myself, entertaining myself, pleasuring myself, trying to keep myself sane enough so that I don’t end up in a nut house.

This is all a big nothing though. Just spent the weekend sleeping, watching pro wrestling, getting stoned and eating mcdonalds. That’s as good as it gets in my life. I try not to buy mcdonalds (because I have to pay off some debt from losing money on stocks) but that and sour peach rings are all I enjoy. I started buying lottery tickets again in the hopes that I would be lucky enough to w… oh who I am I kidding? I have a snowballs chance in hell of winning, but at least I have SOME hope in life lol hahaha

HA! ugh..

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shut up your face

by tphg
written by tphg

I ran out of a burger shop last night. I was all set to gorge on some grade “A” Canadian ANGUS beef, but then I saw that the cashier I (kinda) like was working that day. She smiled and waved at me, even though I was all the way at the back of the line, and so I freaked and got out of there. I’d love to take her out, but I’ll never have the courage for anything more than nervous small talk, with her or with anyone; I’ve only ever dated girls I met online. Not like it matters anyway since I’m such a rotten apple (and cashiers are paid to be nice to everyone so I’m probably imagining the attraction).

After I get home and stoned, I always laugh at myself and how dumb I act around women. It’s not like I have anything to offer a woman except for good times. I don’t want an adult relationship with wine tasting and meeting parents and mortgages and all that shyte (I’m 29 btw). I just wanna work my shit job all day (well, not really, but I need money!) and get blunted all night. There isn’t room for a woman in my sordid life of overindulgence. I don’t want to “settle down” and “change” and “grow” as a person (not that it’s possible; yay assburgers!). I just wanna do what I do till I die (weed, video games, and getting money).

Binge watching the anime series Berserk last weekend really inspired me to not give up on existence and to keep searching for a dream worth fulfilling. Problem is that I’m completely filled to the brim with apathy and don’t have any intrinsic interest in choosing sides and being a cheerleader (racial/cultural pride, nationalism, sports teams, politics, religion etc). I have opinions on all things, but my apathy cancels them out, like the drain at the bottom of a sink. Hot water, cold water, lukewarm water; makes no difference to me. But, I am alive after all, and far too much of a coward to ever hurt myself, so I may as well try and enjoy the time I have (right?).

Enter marijuana, my saving grace. If I hadn’t of started smoking 8-9 years ago, I’d probably be as miserable as most people here on SP. Weed hasn’t helped solve any of my problems, but it has opened my eyes enough so that I can more easily steer clear from making new ones, as well as accepting myself for who I am (good and bad). Whenever I’m down in the dumps and reaching new emotional lows, burning up just half a bowl of reefer is enough to get me laughing again and craving some fun. If ever there was a reset button for human emotions, this is it. Pharmaceutical companies can keep trying, but mother nature has already provided something to soothe those with savage souls.

For any substance abusers on SP with the money and resources to support a marijuana habit, I urge you to jump on the bandwagon. Get off the booze and barbiturates and try this organic escape from reality. One of my greatest personal victories was getting my cousin to change from drinking a bottle of wine every night to just getting stoned instead. He’d fall asleep in a drunken stupor clutching a wine bottle like a baby, but he gave up alcohol completely once he experienced how satisfying and consequence-free marijuana is.

The old sad sack stereotype states that a depressed person will typically try to drown their sorrows at the bottom of a liquor bottle. I thought I came here to talk about what I wuss I am, but I’m here to tell you all that you don’t have to be completely miserable. Weed is saving my life and I truly believe that it can save yours. If I weren’t so emotionally withdrawn and unable to speak genuinely to people face to face, then I would start collecting signatures to try and overturn the prohibition law so me and my fellow smokers could toke in peace. You might think that you’re done with this living crap because of whatever is happening in your life, but if you get that smoke in your lungs…

I truly wanna help everyone here on SP get over their issues, but I myself am pretty deep in the shit of life so all I can do is share my coping methods. Hopefully, someone gets some use out of this post.

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relaxing at death’s door

by tphg
written by tphg

I’ve had this image in my head for the last several weeks. It’s of me sitting in an empty white space, leaning up against a solitary white framed wooden door. I imagine that once I arrived in this white purgatory, I spent a great deal of time beating against the door, jiggling the knob, trying to move on to what’s next. But after a while, I realized that nothing I can do will open the door, so I sit and wait. Occasionally I knock on the door softly, whisper sweet nothings to it, but the door remains firmly in place.

It’s a metaphor for the way I live my life, or I should say the way I DON’T live my life. I’m just sitting here, killing years of time, waiting for the door to open. I’m a severe coward and paranoid beyond belief, so I’m rarely in life threatening situations. The slightest sign of sketchiness and I remove myself from the area. So it’s likely that when the door does finally open, I’ll be a bitter old man with a cane, hearing aids and seeing eye dog.

I’ve said this in all of my recent posts and will echo it again here: I don’t want to get old. It’s a scary thought, being here for another 30+ years doing nothing in particular. Nothing about living in society interests me anymore. I’m a shut-in so my bread and butter is TV, movies, video games, but I’ve lost almost all interest in entertaining myself with these things. The only times I’m ever in the mood to indulge in my former pleasures are when I smoke weed. This has really become a putrid life.

I met an SP user, Kills, this week and it was one of the most amazing times that I’ve ever had with another person. I’m usually filled with anxiety and dread when meeting new people, but we hit it off instantly. There’s always a limit to how much I can relate to another human being and enjoy their company because of my suicidal/depressive feelings, but getting along with Kills was effortless. I never met someone else with suicidal thoughts and it was so freeing to be able to talk about it openly and without fear of judgement. It re-affirmed my old thought that if all us SP users lived in the same town and hung out regularly, we wouldn’t be half as unhappy as we are.

Being surrounded by people who’ve never dwelled on the idea of suicide is suffocating. Having to constantly pretend that you’re like everyone else so that no one singles you out and tries to throw you in the nuthouse is a stifling way to live. I feel like a foreign spy, or a closeted homosexual in a homophobic environment. I can’t talk about who I am or how I feel with anyone except for those who feel the same way and know where I’m coming from. It was such a pleasure to exchange thoughts with Kills. We were surrounded by people on the patio we were sitting at, but still we talked loudly and openly about everything that we talk about on SP; the futility of life, the decline of society, spirituality and what happens after death.

It was a life changing meeting of the minds, and yet I still sit waiting patiently at death’s door. I’d love to do all of the things my heart desires (go into politics and reform my country, write novels, become a pro wrestler, produce music), but I can’t help but think about the next 30 years of living in isolation. After meeting Kills, it hurts a bit more because now I know there are people out there who I can be myself around, but that I’ll probably never get to meet them. Thank goodness for Suicide Project connecting us all to one another, but I wish that there was a place that we could all live and be together. Maybe then I wouldn’t care so much about when death’s door will finally slide open.

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last cigarette ever

by tphg
written by tphg

Walking back to work today from my lunch break, I started thinking about the piano(keyboard) sitting in my apartment. I’ve had it for a year but have only played with it twice; still on the first couple pages of my 6 week lesson guide. I bought it to fulfill part of the destiny I laid out for myself. When you’re as cowardly as I am, suicide is nothing more than a silent longing, and so I fully expect myself to reach old age.

If and when I do make it to gray hair and wrinkles, I want to be away from society and on a farm. Tons of land for the animals I save from the butcher to live out their days however they please. Grazing, frolicking, whatever. I see a big red barn with a few stables and hay everywhere. Somewhere in the mess is a grand piano. I dunno, I don’t think 60 year old me will still like playing video games. If I’m still a gamer then I’ll scrap the piano and install a massive plasma screen (or whatever the latest TV is) on one side of the barn, and park my Lay-Z-Boy in the middle.

Yeah, I’ll probably get the TV. Learning new things.. I dunno. Part of me feels 80 years old and at peace with my impending death. It’s just that I’m actually 29 and still have a long way to go. Anyway.

Last cigarette ever. I’ll never get my farm and free the animals and have a giant futuristic TV in my barn if I keep wasting money on metaphorical cigarettes (food that makes me sick, games I don’t need, this stupid trip to NY that I’m taking etc.). I kinda blew off this chick at work after she offered to help me get out of my rut. I can’t listen to other people anymore and the advice that they have because it simply doesn’t, hasn’t and never will apply to me.

We’re all walking around in similarly shaped bodies of varying skin tone but inside we’re all different kinds of animals. Human is what this fleshy shell is, but we ain’t all hermit crabs. After New York, I’m never going to let myself get swept up into other peoples plans for me without good reason. This whole trip is going to be a disaster and I stupidly agreed to it out of guilt. Ah well, live and learn. I’ll pay this debt and move on.

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Dying’s the only answer

by tphg
written by tphg

This woman at work reached out to me and I told her that I have no desire to live. We had a chat about it and she seemed pretty determined to see me get better. She’s had her own issues with depression and wants me to go for the same specialized therapy that she went in for. And she wants to be my friend, it seems, because she’s talking to me a lot more and wants to hang out after work.

I feel so guilty because she doesn’t know how much of a lost cause I am. There’s no helping someone like me because I want to die. I don’t want to try and make my life work anymore. I don’t want to wake up anymore and live through all these meaningless days. This human experience has me fundamentally exhausted, and I don’t feel wrong for wanting to die, so what help is there for me?

All I can think about now is getting my hands on some ******** and saying good-bye for good. I’m supposed to go to New York at the end of August with my grandmother to see relatives I’ve never met, but I don’t even care anymore. I wanted to go because I’ve never been to New York, but I didn’t take into consideration that I’d have to spend extended time with other people. I can barely tolerate spending a full day visiting relatives, so I don’t know how I’m going to survive 8 days with people I don’t know.

And the thing with most people is that all they want to know is what you’re doing with your life. What job you have, what school you went to, the places you’ve been, the people you’re banging, and what you have planned for the duration of your stay on Earth. I used to have the energy to fake it and lead people to believe that I’m a normal, fully functioning member of society, but that’s gone now. All I can be is who I am, a manic depressive.

I don’t care about any of this, I just want out.

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can’t move

by tphg
written by tphg

How the hell can I do this for another 30-40 years? Working job after job to support this joyless life. Once I outlive my usefulness at this office I’m at now, I’ll have to start the process all over again of finding full-time work. And then again once that job ends. And again and again and again until I drop dead. I’d rather drop dead now and save myself the trouble of spending all the good hours of the day pushing papers and moving boxes and photocopying and etc.

Been reading up on jumping and it’s becoming more appealing everyday. From what I’m reading, sounds like there’s a good chance that it’s relatively painless. Apparently, the brain isn’t able to process the pain of the impact because of the velocity that the death occurs at; as close to an instant death as it gets. Sounds fine in theory, but more research must be done. I can’t even feed myself anymore. My appetite is non-existent. This is so god damn pointless. I need to get out of here, out of all this. Bumping into other peoples lives everyday, so annoying. I hate all of this. I dream of an empty, post-apocalyptic world.

ugh

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ready to go home

by tphg
written by tphg

Epiphany!

I was rambling on in the comments of Tristeza’s post when I finally hit bottom and realized why I’m so unhappy and want to die. The gist of what I was saying is that life is nothing more than a dream and that when we die, our minds are erased from reality permanently. All of the information that our brains are holding onto is erased when it shuts down for good. The person that you think you are (Tom, Dick, Jane etc) is little more than a function of the brain, and so when the brain dies, you die too.

As in a dream, I’ve become lucid and aware of the meaninglessness of it all, so it frees me to do as I please without much guilt. “Life can be a day at an amusement park, or day a running errands” is what I said. The root of my depression lays in the fact that I’m tired of trying to make my life like a day at the amusement park. It’s all well and good to know that you’re free to do as you please, but it’s another thing entirely to be able to actually do it. All of the sacrifices that the average person must make for a little bit of happiness in the evenings and on weekends (going to school, working 9-5, budgeting, taxes, fees, insurance etc) are just not worth it to me anymore. That’s not even mentioning the fact that all of the worst kinds of people are running the world (psychopaths, racists, feminists, religious zealots).

I’m really tired of trying to enjoy my life. All of this meaningless work I do at my job, the TV shows I watch and music I listen to, health food I choke down; it’s all such a waste of energy. I’d rather not be doing any of this. I’m 29 and I think that’s long enough. There’s nothing else I want to do. I don’t want kids or a house of my own or whatever people do with themselves these days. I just want to go home.

I don’t want to get old and watch my body slowly break down. What’s the point of that? The only logical thing I can think to do is jump off of a high place, but dying terrifies me. Pain is extremely annoying and so I imagine that the final splat won’t be as freeing as I think it will be. I feel trapped in this flesh, like an astronaut floating through space; I just want to rip off my helmet and free my life from this heavy suit. I’m really quite tired of all this, the people, the places, the things.

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really effing depressed

by tphg
written by tphg

I got frustrated watching the Sopranos last night because the characters were acting stupid. My anger at these fictional people once again reminded me of how empty my life is. I recently came to the realization that I don’t actually have any friends. My co-workers only care about what I have to say if it’s entertaining and won’t hang out with me after hours. The friends that I do see in my spare time only ever want to do stuff once every 3 or 4 months. The guy that I considered my best friend is little more than an acquaintance. I’ve told him so much about me, about my depression and failed relationships and fears, and I thought he cared because he always responds to my e-mails, but again, it usually takes him a few months. Texting is the same thing.

Anyone I text, it takes them weeks to get back to me, if they ever do. Ugh, listen to me complaining. I wanted to be alone and now here I am. I kept failing at relationships and friendships and letting down my family; I wished to be alone and away from them all and now I am. I’m perfectly alone. I could kill myself today and no one would notice for at least a week. I’m not in regular enough contact with my family for them to wonder where I am. Most likely it’ll be because I haven’t shown up to work that people start to question my whereabouts. This is what I wanted, I guess.

I turned off the Sopranos last night for the last time. Never gonna watch another TV show or movie again. It’s all nonsense that reminds me why I don’t want to be around people anymore. I spent the rest of the night listening to this one rap song on repeat and imagining myself jumping off a bridge that’s around the corner from my house. The only thing stopping me is the fear of pain and of surviving the fall. I used to worry about how my brother would feel, but now he only cares about his cell phone and the people on the other end of it. My 15 year old brother has been keeping me sane these last 5 or 6 years. He lives with our neglectful mother so going over there everyday after work to help him with whatever he needs gave me a sense of purpose. But now it feels like he’s just using me. We used to study all the time and exercise and he was making great strides, but now he only ever does anything productive when I’m around. I ask him to write something or read something as a little assignment and he doesn’t do it. Always some excuse. He would have failed all of his grade 9 classes if I weren’t constantly pushing him. Even that wasn’t enough; I had to bribe him with a Playstation 4 just so he would focus on getting all of his credits. The Ps4 was the only thing that he ever thanked me for without me having to remind him to do so.

He doesn’t need me anymore. Nobody needs me. I was researching volunteering in my area but I lost interest. Helping the homeless seems like a waste of time. Most of them choose to live on the streets, and the ones that don’t are hustling for work and trying to get their lives on track, not in the soup kitchens looking for handouts. Working with old/dying people sounded good but I don’t do well around people in pain. I’d just feel helpless watching them, knowing how shitty they felt and not being able to do anything about it. I usually smoke a joint and forget about when I’m hurting but I’m not the type of smoker who would ever offer it to a non-smoker as an alternative. I just think it’s rude, offering illicit drugs. Anyway, the bridge..

I want to jump, I feel justified in jumping, but I’m so afraid. My fear is what keeps me from living, interacting with others, and my fear keeps me from killing myself, freeing my mind from having to endure reality for another day. Looking at the walls and ceiling of my apartment, all I could see were cold, steel bars. I’m trapped here for the foreseeable future until I get over my fears. Too afraid to go left or right, so I stay in neutral. fuck fuck fuck, I’m so depressed. I’m keeping my life in a catatonic state but I can’t take it anymore. Something has to give. I need to move. I need to do something.

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lucky you

by tphg
written by tphg

This is the last place that I’m willing to share my thoughts. I’m tired of trying to help people understand how I feel about life; it’s a waste of a breath. As a self-professed nihilist, one of the big rules that I live by is that “it doesn’t matter what other people know”. Trying to convince anyone of anything is a waste of breath. Just leave them all to their own meaningless thoughts and I’ll stick to mine.

But here, I’m as close to being around comrades as I’ll ever be. Even though I feel half dead from a viral infection in my chest, that Nature is Nihilistic post by wndozh8er lifted my spirits higher than they’ve been for quite some time. I only ever smile that wide when I’m watching Monty Pythons or the Sopranos but that post really touched me. Really fucking touched me. I think that we all want validation from others, to know that what we’re doing with our lives is right. After reading wndozh8er’s words, despite my hacking coughs and roaming migraines, today I feel right. Today I feel validated.

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no friends

by tphg
written by tphg

I had these amazing song lyrics that I wanted to share with someone when I remembered that I don’t have any friends who care to hear what I have to say lol I have people that I’m friends with; once every two months I go to a pub or have dinner with some guys I used to work with (that’s the most time that they’re willing to spend with me LOL). My current group of co-workers like me well enough, but they couldn’t give less of a fuck about my life outside work hours. I’ve tried to make some friends but I’m constantly being rebuffed. The only person that contacts me regularly is my pot dealer lmao Anyway, the song lyrics. I was listening to Crass (old punk band) and the first verse of their song Reject of Society knocked me on my ass. I’ve heard this song dozens of times but I never really listened to the lyrics before because they’re hard to understand (lead singer has a thick english accent).

“Not for me the factory floor,
Sweeping up from nine to four.
Not for me the silly rat race,
I don’t see the point in anycase.
People ask me why I say what I do,
I say to them, “Well wouldn’t you?”
If you were fucked up just like me,
A reject of society.”

 

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What are you most unhappy about?

by tphg
written by tphg

The constant fear I feel due to my chemically imbalanced brain. I can’t socialize correctly unless I try really really hard, but the strain of wearing social makeup has left me feeling hollow and wishing for a swift end to my existence. I don’t care about my own life, and so I care about others even less; no point in me continuing to live. What about you?

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I love this line

by tphg
written by tphg

“Live or die, I’d rather take the latter route
Take the ladder route
Rope around my neck and kick the ladder out
There’s no need to drag it out”

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She’s so effing gorgeous

by tphg
written by tphg

Sure, she looks like a bollywood model, but that’s not what I mean. She really cares about people. She volunteers at soup kitchens and organizes charity drives. Bad news stories involving people she doesn’t even know makes her get teary eyed. She spent a week losing sleep, tossing and turning because she was worried that I might be upset about something completely insignificant. She truly has a heart of gold.

I don’t have rose tinted glasses on. She’s a boy crazy lush like the rest of the women I know, but she doesn’t let it define her like so many others. She calls me a good friend, but I feel unworthy. I’m sitting on so much hatred, for myself and for the world around me. So I keep her at a distance. She knows tons about me, but I’ve stopped feeding her new information. How could I be her friend? I’m a monster, and she’s so beautiful.

I don’t want to bring her down anymore than I already have. She doesn’t know how much of a remorseless rattlesnake I can be, and I hate seeing her upset. She sings (poorly) when she’s happy; I love that about her. I’ve been looking for any reason to cut her out of my life because it hurts to have her so close and yet so far.

Oh Ria..

 

 

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“How is everything?”

by tphg
written by tphg

I want to reply with the chorus from Metallica’s song Trapped Under Ice, but that’s just opening pandora’s box and I really don’t want to guide anyone down my rabbit hole of misery.

 

Freezing
Can’t move at all
Screaming
Can’t hear my call
I am dying to live
Cry out
I’m trapped under the ice

 

I feel like that every weekend, when I’m laying in bed, blanket pulled up over my head. I have every thought in the world for productive things I could do, but I never move. I spent the majority of this past weekend laying in bed sulking silently. The only time I left home was to re-stock my kitchen with supplies. As I perused the grocery store shelves, Trapped Under Ice was randomly selected by my Ipod and every lyric buckled my knees. I thought back to moments before when I was laying in bed staring at the wall, willing myself to get up and begin my novel but unable to summon the motivation.

Crystallized, as I lay here and rest
Eyes of glass stare directly at death
From deep sleep I have broken away
No one knows, no one hears what I say

Every word of that song describes my everyday life. How could that be? I thought my struggle was unique but perhaps all of our misery is intertwined in some grand, poetic way. This post will be the most productive thing I do all day (I don’t count my 9-5 job as being productive).

I don’t know how to live trough this hell
Woken up, I’m still locked in this shell
Frozen soul, frozen down to the core
Break the ice, I can’t take anymore

 

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hitting the hurdles

by tphg
written by tphg

I used to be so good at the charade of living (going to work, paying my bills, staying fed, keeping up appearances etc). Now, every moment is a fight. I have no will to maintain my life anymore. Being at work feels like a joke. I want to jump in front of a train, but instead, I ride it to the office everyday. Why? So that I can maintain my lifestyle until I die.

I frigging hate living! Oh my god! Every moment feels like gravel in my bloodstream. I spend most of my waking hours doing things I’d rather not be doing, and the rest sleeping in front of the TV. This is not a life, man. This isn’t for me. I look around at people, they’re living in these fantasy story books. My life just feels like a function. I live because I live, so I live. I’m here for no other reason than the fact that I’m here.

Why do I keep crying to the internet? It’s all futile.

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