who_even_cares

im either a slave to the medication or a slave to the depression.

there really is no escape from this hell is there.

what do adults do with anxiety and depression?

do they go away?

or do they just get better at hiding it?

how i wish i could tell my old bullies how much i want to kill myself and how low my self esteem is because of their constant mental torturing

maybe ill get on the news and they’ll be sorry for once.

i wonder if they meant it all those times they told me they wished i was dead and told my to kill myself

it feels like everything and everyone has lost its meaning to me.

like, my birthday and christmas passed by bearly with notice.

i don’t desire to hang out with friends anymore, or play video games. it just feels slightly better than boredom.

schoolwork just feels like a chore, even the things i used to enjoy.

even food, so long my comfort, is starting to lose its touch with me.

i no longer wish to attend family gatherings and try my best to get out of them.

days off feel as monotonous as school anyways so what’s the point.

everything just feels dull and pointless.

i want my old spark back.

i want myself back.

i […]

i would love the release of going to hell. at the very least i would no longer care about social situations, so my anxiety would be released. no more depression. no more anxiety. no more shitty friends and family. just pain. the bittersweet release, i shudder just thinking of it.

but do i deserve release?

maybe i deserve the hell on earth more than i do hell in hell.

imagine you are in a room with two objects sitting on a table. you can only choose one device.

one would allow you to kill yourself, without pain. your family and friends will forget about you, and nobody will greive of kill themselves as a cause of you.

the other device would take you back to your old life, and your depression would be gone. however, your happiness would be fake, and you would be aware of that. you would never feel true joy, but you would never feel sad either.

which would you choose?

all over my arm. i needed release. skin red.

why do i only find release in pain or death?

having depression coupled with social anxiety may be the worst combination of mental illnesses on the planet because you get anxiety over telling people about your depression and you get depressed about telling people about your anxiety, so you dont tell anyone to try to make yourself feel better.

then all your thoughts just start festering like rot left in a garbage bag until there’s nothing left but depression,anxiety, and the hope that you’ll die before you turn into a complete husk.

at least it would give me something to look forward too. but im not very good with deadlines(punintentional)

my mom goes out drinking twice a week, smokes constantly, is almost always yelling at me about something, then wonders why i cant open up when i break down.

when she’s looking in the mirror does she see the same person i do?

nobody may tell you this.

you may not think it yourself.

hell maybe you have just quietly accepted it for all your life but you need a reminder.

your life has value.

maybe you aren’t strong. maybe you have a disability, mental or physical, that feels like it’s constantly trying to remind you how shitty your life is,

but your life has value.

you may be the shittiest person on the planet for all i know

but your life has value.

you have talents, discovered or undiscovered, that nobody else has. people will always doubt you about this.

but your life has value.

you wouldn’t throw a thousand dollars down the drain, why the rest […]

what will people remember me for?

i know most of my classmates (may their bullying asses get dragged to hell with me) will probably just remember me for being the standard “edgy” stereotype because i always wear a hood

but what about my family?

will they remember the atrocities i commited, the sins?

or will they remember me before i was depressed? the child who was happy.

if i passed away, how many people would remember me even next year?

ill be honest with myself and you: it’s a single digit number(and even then, who knows? maybe everyone would have forgotten about me, and ill pass from this earth with the […]

but if you loved me

why’d you leave me?

take my body.

take my body.

if so, does it help?

no shame here, just really out of options that dont involve offing myself