I feel like something’s eating up my brain. It’s like it has created a deep hole inside my soul. It is controlling me and my life. Sometimes, it tells me to hurt myself by my own hands while some other times, it tells me to hurt people who’ve hurt me. It just is so confusing that my mind is choked badly. I’ve lost my ability to think. And even slowly, but I’m losing myself upto an extent that I may die now. I want to die now. It has became my only wish – to die. It’s pinching and punching me. It is making me aware of parts of me that I never even knew, existed, those hidden dark mysterious parts of my empty yet peaceful soul. And I, too, like a fool, am letting it do whatever it wants to do with me because no matter how hard I try to oppose it, it won’t stop. It isn’t stopping. I’ve started to feel that there’s no sense trying because in the end, I’m definitely gonna lose. But then, that’s the whole point about trying because brave are the people who die trying. But what am I doing? Losing hope is all I can think about along with the fact that hope is something that wasn’t made for me. The irony here is that even darkness was not made for me because the creator must’ve been too scared to make anything for me and my empty soul. That is why, I wonder how come has this thing stuck with me if nothing was made for me, ever. I might sound like I am in total despair but I don’t think this thing, that has settled in my mind and is so busy twisting and hurting me, is bearable. Now, tell me what I’m supposed to do except for falling on my knees (I’m not begging it to leave me) and surrendering to it. And even the creator won’t know what this thing would do to me once I’ve surrendered. So if someday, someone asks you, why I did what I’m going to, just tell them (don’t overthink this because you’d never get a single answer) that I had no choice but to let myself go.
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“Life is a gift! Live, laugh, love! You only live once (YOLO)! Thank God! Life is beautiful!” etc etc. Well, not really. Wake up and open your eyes to reality.
Only those people who are lucky & fortunate in life who can loudly say that life is a gift. The reality is, not everyone is fortunate. In fact, most people on this planet live in pain & sufferings just barely enough to survive. And then, even if people live in the first-world developed countries like in U.S or Europe for example, there are ironically still people who are depressed, and even suicidal/commit suicide. If life is a gift, like most people nowadays keep saying, then why all those reality exist? The only answer I can think of is: it is human’s nature perhaps for (most) human beings to always want to keep surviving (the survival mechanism), and therefore, they need the optimism bias (especially the most prevalent today with all those motivational & self-help industry); even if it’s at the cost of ignorance (“Ignorance is bliss”), simple-mindedness, naivety, being oblivious, selfish, shallow, superficial, and lacking empathy (in deep way), and honestly speaking, stupidity.
I don’t frequent these feelings often, but when I do I’m scared. I get lost in the thought of hating everything I am. No faith for change, for adaptation. I wake up the same each day, my mindset doesn’t change. My energy comes sporadically, periodically through the day I’ll find small bursts of motivation. I know at the rate I’m going, I’ll be nothing. I’ll be nobody. Yet, with this knowledge, I still can’t get out of bed in the mornings. I don’t have the energy to brush my teeth, or take a shower. The dirt clothes have been piling up for over a month. I know I don’t want to be what I’m becoming, but I can’t change it. Why? I’m so scared, and I don’t know how to change.
As I grow older my mindset dips further as I start to get comfortable with the blurry reality. I work long hours doing something I hate. I take days off as much as possible to play video games that I don’t enjoy, even though I need the money. I chase a dream that died years ago. I’m stuck behind a wall of depression and fear. I hate being alive, but I’m afraid of death. I’m scared of what people will say, or what they’ll feel. I don’t want anyone to blame themselves if I ever hurt myself.
I take melatonin every night, but drink energy drinks in the day. I don’t need either of them, but they’re an excuse for myself to believe that I’m actually doing something in my life. I feel like if I need an outside source of energy, I’m exerting myself enough each day. And if I need to sleep, I have something important each morning. I’ve put my whole life into something that I’ll never be good enough for, so when is it a good time to give up? To stop believing in childish dreams? I’m turning twenty-three soon. My dream has been out of reach for four or five years now. Yet, I still want it more than anything. I can’t help but cry sometimes for little reason other than the fact that I’m not good enough.
Im not sure what my purpose is anymore, or if I even have one. All I know is I’m empty, I hate the feeling. I know I won’t be able to keep pushing when I have nothing left to give. So I’m scared to admit I think I’ll be nothing, because does that mean I’ll give up? That one day, I might not be so scared of death? If I’m not afraid of it, will I embrace it? I’m not so sure, but I assume I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll update here again if I keep sane for a few more months.
Everyone wants it both ways. I’ve fucking destroyed myself to give the people I care about everything, even when it crosses my boundaries, even when it fucking killed me. What the hell am I supposed to do? I fucking drop anything, and I mean nothing to anyone I care about, and that will kill me worse. I try to do everything and that kills me, too. It’s not like I have any direction on my own, so why shouldn’t I drop everything to wholly serve those I care about? What the hell else would I do? I have nothing going for me; I’m fucking pathetic. If I pull out of the relationships I care about most, I have nothing. I will rot, and I won’t care enough to get myself back up. If I don’t, I wear myself down to a worthless nothing.
I’m a coward, so I’ll let life play out and destroy me as it chooses to.
I’ve always thought of this place as a place for people who are diagnosed. I guess that’s why I never felt like I should write here. Now I’m pretty sure I need some kind of help because I saw that I actually have written entries here.
Schoolwork overwhelms me + Im @ my parents
Started abusing some meds that lay round at my house, e.g. zolpidem, which is horrible, I’m just wobbling round the house all day. Wish I could find somewhere more xanny but I popped them all. All of this is probably because of the ecstasy I took like 3-4 weeks ago (1st time doing them). They were the shit. So now I can’t bear being straight and steal random old pills lol rip
Anyways, there’s always this chronic feeling of “I cant really enjoy things that much”. How do you battle that? Games dont work, music too. I can get into someting for some time, but, eventually, that “passion” goes down anyway.
The problem is that I’m functional. I can do stuff for school well and shit, I can – get up in the morning
Idk I’m growing tired so Ill stop here, c ya round……..
i drive away the people i love. they lose interest. i destroy myself. all i feel is pain all the time and when i’m happy its naive because it never lasts. ill never last in this world. im 18 now, but i feel like a child still. i cant manage responsibility. i let people down. they’re sick of me. i’m a waste. i build myself up just to crash and burn in the worst way at the very last second. and this fucking pain, why do i hurt so much? i’ve tried so many medications, they don’t seem to work. my intrusive thoughts come, and now with even more intensity. i thought i’d gotten better, that i’d improved, but the truth is i’ve remained the exact same. instead, i’ve just distracted myself with going out and wasting time with “friends” who don’t care for me at all. and now my girlfriend is being weird and ignoring me even though shes active and posting and when i try to confront her shes all defensive and then ignores me even harder and my fucking OCD won’t let me stop thinking for a second. i have to remind myself that she loves me, even though it doesn’t seem that way. i thought i’d finally get valued when i got into this relationship, but the truth is, just like everything else, relationships are temporary highs. everyone will let you down and you will let them down. being alone is what i need to do. i need to shut off my emotions. i need to be a machine. this fucking body is a shell. this body means nothing to me at all.
I suffer from chronic pain with the carina virus out break I’m unable to get medication. I have 2 weeks to decide. I can’t find anything that’s sure an painless. I was thinking of trying to o.d but I’m in too much pain to move. Im desperate an suffering intensliy with physical pain. flnfrmabove7@ yahoo.com
A couple of years ago I had many attempts of suicide, since then I’ve been trying to get help. Everything gets in the way, stopping me from helping myself. I try and find reasons to start over new or someone for that matter. Now I feel numb and without a single care.
In our household music is everything. I push myself every night to add more and more hours onto my piano practice, until my hands cramp and I can’t play any longer. I sometimes get really angry where I pull at my hair and make my skin bleed, usually screaming my head off, there is no control when this happens. I feel my body get red and boiling rage just sets me off, usually when something like this happens its pent up anger from continued fights with loved ones or non stop drama.
My mum found my old ropes in the hardest to reach place of my closet, who knows the reason for her to be there. That day was filled with many different attempts. The rope had been ready. I had doubts that it would work, the rope was already too thin making it possible to snap from above me. Although I had my other ways. This day had been planned out for months, thinking about it everyday, let me have some sort of relief, knowing that nothing really matters anyway if I’m going to kill myself, so why should I commit to plans and goals? No one is home. I live close to the shops, so I walked down with minimal change in my pocket. I entered the news agency purchasing rubber bands. I and ropes from somewhere else. I can just picture the look on my face when going up to the counter, I wonder if the man had any clue at all. That day was scorching hot, the walk back seemed more tiring then going down. I had my blades, ropes, bag, rubber bands. I guess you’re probably wondering why I didn’t just take pills. I’ve thought this through many times and always come to the same conclusion. My mum takes very strong pills for her, which I wont name. I knew that would be too easy. The amount of times I thought of downing those pills are insane. I love my mum so much and wouldn’t want her to get caught in any trouble for my actions, she would think “if only I hid those pills”. The bag was my last option. This was my first attempt, I had no idea what I was doing, I just wanted to die at that very minute. I self harm, and when I don’t self harm, I think about it. I search numerous articles while sitting on the toilet, pressing bloody tissue to my already scarred skin. I have never cried or flinched really from the pain. I get frustrated for having to hold the tissue, until the bleeding stops. As you’ve probably guessed I’m quite impatient.
I have a scar from that day, the inside of my wrist where you can hear your heartbeat. I used to be able to see the reflection of my own skin, and just stare. Sometimes I get ashamed of my skin or even disgusted. I dreamt of having a future sometimes, but other times I thought that it wasn’t even an option.
I hear the door slam, and I feel all the colour from my face sinks. I’m in my bathroom with bloody tissues that covered the floor. Mum comes in my room and calls out to me. I do my best to cover the scene. One arm foolishly behind me.
I had an interesting childhood… I bet if I told you some of it you wouldn’t believe me. To this day I’m suicidal everyday, but always finding a reason to not go through with it. I have used pills before, but not the kind you’re thinking (Paracetamol). That was the worst throwing up experience I have ever had. Taking 12/13 at once was bound to not stay down. Failing miserably again.
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Some people are lucky; Some people are not.
The more you learn about this world and society, the more you will realize that Life is random (chances), and yes, Life is not fair. Reality is depressing.
Most people who still always keep saying that “if you work hard, you will be successful!” are naive, ignorant, and simple-minded typical “optimistic/positive/happy-go-lucky” people you always see everywhere. And even for those people who realized it and therefore said that what’s important is to “work smart”, it also usually often means to be sly, cunning, opportunistic bastards who are too often selfish, pricks, ruthless, cold, heartless, and only care about certain shallow things like money, profits, power, position. And sadly often for the vain reasons.
There are often far too many challenges, obstacles, and also bad people who lurk just around the dark corners to eat you up, use you, trick you, manipulate you, etc etc you just name it. That’s why usually the truly good people, and the genuinely smart, wise, and idealistic, visionary type of people who have truly great and noble ideas for the progress of the world are often crushed, and losing out to the selfish, vain bastards and pricks of the world and society that I’ve just mentioned above. No wonder there are many stressful, sad, depressed, and suicidal people all around the world/planet.
This world is a shithole. Humanity is sadly not that great. Life is often disappointing. Society is sick. Existence is (mostly) just a meaningless, stupid, and pointless pain and sufferings until you die.
Once again I’m here to read ppl’s agony. It grounds me whenever I have suicidal thoughts. It’s tragic to know that people are there for you but eventually they’ll get tired of your shit and toxcitity then leave you knowing that it would make you misery. Makes me want to kill myself more. I know that I don’t have to depend on people and get their validation but it’s hard not to when you rlly love those ppl around you. I feel like a burden. Always have been. I blame myself for everything and for the existence I found no purpose and not thankful for. I wish I could give my span of life to someone in need or more deserving. It’s my 4th year of depression and can’t seem to imagine that this cycle would continue for far more years to come. Bullshit. I hope that the world would end soon so I wouldn’t have to kill myself as soon as possible. I hate pain. I was okay. But relapse is real.
I think I’m going to book it out of this place after I finish classes for the year. I’ve become an irreversible failure, and there’s no way to fix it this time. Maybe I’ll train-hop out of here. Once I’m gone, there’s nothing keeping me from following through. I’m way too depressed to function anyway. My meds, that I pay way too much money for, aren’t working. Trying to get help doesn’t work for me. My mind’s just finally calm enough for me to do it, not out of a sudden and temporary spike of emotion, but through calm reasoning. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, and that’s just what I’m bound to be while I’m alive. The one tie to someone I have will be severed for his good; I’m dragging him down.
I always thought I could fix myself enough to be close enough to good, but I guess I’ve finally realized that’s never really been a possibility. Good luck, everybody.
Sorry for my last post. Came off a a bit overdramatic. I tend to do that when I get stressed out.
To be honest, I don’t even have a way to kill myself right now. I was hoping we had some rope in the basement, bu5 a search turned up nothing. And now more than ever I won’t be able to sneak out and by some. Hell, I don’t even know if hardware stores are closed nowadays. The only reason I can think of for them to be open would be so people can buy flashlights or things to help with emergence repairs. I supposed I could order some on Amazon, but that would risk my parents getting to the package first. I’ve tried to kill myself before. Learning I ordered some sturdy rope would instantly tip them off that something is wrong.
Honestly, part of me feels bad about just dying like that. It’s not just the fact that I’d be leave broken home in my wake. It’s the fact that when I look at myself in the mirror, I just have to ask, “Do I deserve it?” Not do I deserve to die, because that would get a resounding no from most people. But do I deserve the pain to stop? Of course, I don’t have it nearly as bad as other people. I come from a loving family, I’ve always been relatively healthy, and I’ve never had anything truly traumatic happen to me. But in a way, that’s the problem.
See, I always come back to this thought process. Every single fucking time. “Why do I have these things?” Why are other people suffering when I’m not? There are probably billions of people who are ten times better than me, and yet I’ve been given a happy life and they haven’t! Why the fuck is that?! I just need to know what I did. I just need to know what I did to deserve this! What benevolent actions did I do in a past life or whatever that caused me to have all this! Because as of right now, believing all this was just the luck of the draw is what’s truly making me hate myself.
In a way, I reacted to these uncertainties by taking things into my own hands. To find some way to bring sadness into my life. To “make things fair” in a sense. If the world’s not gonna do it, it might as well be me, right? Cutting, burning, bruising: self harm is just one of the ways I get rid of this “survivors guilt”. One night I cut myself so far down I could see muscle. Light pink and white muscle. Instead of being nervous that I’d cut so deep, I was almost excited. Overjoyed. I paced around the kitchen waiting for the blood to start to seep out, humming the tune to Silent Night. In fucking March.
It’s not just physical pain either. I also neglect my physical needs and pretty much verbally abuse myself on a day to day basis. I’ve called myself things I would never to say to another human being. I wouldn’t speak to my dog like this! It hurts to be called these things, even if I’m the one doing it. But at the same time I just get so much joy and satisfaction in hurting myself. It’s cathartic. Almost like I’m hurting someone who deserves it. Like I’m getting revenge on someone who’s committed a horrible crime, but the only crime I’ve really committed was being alive! I don’t want to stop, but I know it’s killing me. I cry sometimes. Sometimes the things I say to myself really sting. I’ll bring up my past mistakes, bring out my faults, taunt myself over things I can’t control. I have a full on panic attack sometimes over how much stuff I drudge up from my past. But I know that there’s a part of me that’s just eating it up! Laughing at me as I’m fucking hyperventilating. It’s like I’m an abuser and a victim all rolled into one fucked-up package.
I want to stop, but then again, I don’t! It feels good and fucking horrible all at the same time. Part of me relishes in seeing me suffer and the other part is in agony. I’m in a loop. A goddamn, mindfuck mental loop! I don’t know how to get out of this. I don’t even know if I can or even want to! I’ve tried to explain it to my parents, but I don’t think they fully understand. I’ve always been shit at explaining my feelings. Blame it on the fucking Aspergers.
So, yeah. Just needed to get this off my chest. You know, without someone telling me I’m being irrational or overdramatic. Even though I probably am. I’m probably going to be post more often on here considering I’ll be hauled up in my house for the foreseeable future. Stay safe everyone.
I haven’t left my house for about six days. I was never the outdoorsy type, but this whole Coronavirus situation makes me feel like an animal in a cage. I’m losing my will to do anything productive. A new day comes and all I want to do is sleep. Suicidal thoughts come in more frequently. I didn’t have a reason to live before, why would I have one now? I feel my worse at night, and crying myself to sleep has become the norm. I try to tell myself people have it far worse than me. But knowing that it just makes me hate myself even more. I get into the thought process off “There’s probably a million people out there ten times better than me who are suffering way more, why do I deserve this and they don’t.” A pointless thought process, but I feel if I constantly tell myself I don’t deserve anything I’ve been given, I’ll never become entitled. That’s the plan at least.
And maybe we’re all suffering, but most people have some inkling of what they want to do in spite of that suffering to keep going. Some people have a use, or something kind of purpose. I don’t. And my family can say they love me and would be crushed if I was gone, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m just dead weight in their lives. Maybe it just took this virus for me to fully realize I was a lost cause my friends and family tried their damndest to put their faith in.
I think I’m going to pack it in soon. I already set a deadline before, but times have changed. I can’t be a burden to them any longer. Whether this makes them happy or not, I think this is for the best. One less mouth to feed, one less liability to pour their resources into in a time where the grocery stores are being raided. If I can’t help them alive, then I’m better to them dead.
Ever have these (VERY) rare days, where you’re actually all cheerful and think, today is gonna be a good day? Well, fuck that.
These days seem to always go wrong for me and people never believe me, when I tell them, that being positive just fucks up my life even more…
This day was unbearably chaotic and it’s not even lunchtime. I tried smiling and being social and brave but each step that went wrong, my smile just grew weary. I don’t know where to even put that negativity that brushed over this little happy day. I don’t know how to feel..
Mad, that my happiness got stolen?
Sad, because I can’t even do one thing right?
Or worried, that this sets me back way worse, than any regular day?
But I feel like I’m not realising the extend of that bullshit yet. Like my body was providing me with adrenaline, to deal with all that. It’s a really weird day and I want to laugh, until my insides hurt. But at the same time I want to punch a hole into a tree and scream my lungs out.
All the other days go by, with me burying it deep down. But today? Today is the day, it wants to bounce around, being noticed. I may not have any other conversation today, otherwise I might go crazy on them. And the amount of times that this happened isn’t even funny anymore.
I feel way too much and usually forget, that people can’t measure up to that extend. Even my happiness seems to irritate them. Then why even try pursuing that? Why be happy?
Wow. It really is as simple as that.
I’m having trouble smiling.
Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I try to force myself to smile. People always said if you smile you’ll feel happier as a result. But when I look in the mirror, and I see my reflection smiling, all these nauseating emotions build up in my stomach. I feel irritated, bitter, and almost disgusted. I actually feel disgusted looking at myself. Not in a sense that I think I’m ugly, I’ve pretty much contented myself on the fact that I am and only ever will be average-looking. But I’ve just grown to hate myself when I’m smiling. Sometimes, I’ll be legitimately happy, and then I’ll catch my reflection in the mirror and my mood will turn sour. I’ve started to roll my eyes at my reflection now, out of spite. I can’t look at photographs of myself smiling, and when I do, I always try to avoid looking at myself.
I have no idea why this pisses me off so much. And I have no idea why I keep looking in the mirror, attempting to force a smile, when I always get the same result. This resounding feeling of self-hatred.
I think I might be legitimately going insane and that thought is scaring me. Just how bad is my depression going to get. I’ve been doing this song and dance for 10 years now, and it’s only gotten worse. Am I going to be unable to even look at my reflection soon? Am I going to tear up old photographs in a rage? Destroy all the mirrors in my house? No. That’s probably not going to happen. I think I’ve been watching too many horror movies where the characters slowly go insane, and it’s starting to show.
You know. People would always tell me I had a nice smile. It was one of the common things everyone who ever grew attached to me complimented me about. “You have such a sweet smile.” “You should smile more.” “I’m taking a picture. Show me that pretty smile of yours.” Maybe it just frustrates me that other people get enjoyment out of something I’ve recently started to hate.
I’ve never thought I would be writing this. But I’m going to kill myself ass soon as I gather enough amitriptyline.
I’ve had a very happy childhood and very loving parents. I have always been a little shy, but I’ve managed to make some good friends. I was always very introspective and I’ve always been the type of person who thinks that an unexamined life is not worth living. I am a woman, by the way.
When I started college I had a bit of an emotional breakdown and was prescribed some antidepressants that didnt work, but I never ever thought I would kill myself. I studied both biology and music. I love biology and I love science with such a pasion it makes me teary to just think about it sometimes.
So I have loved ones and I have a pasion, but 2019 kicked me hard. Firstly, a weird rash appeared on my entire face making me a complete hard-to-look-at monster. Dermatologists said it was incurable, so I had to get used to the idea that I would never have a partner (or a man interested in me) and probably would never have children. When I thought I had hit rock bottom, it turned out that the rash was a product of another disease that brings me constant and painful headaches and trouble seeing. But thats not the end of it, I also have a problem in my stomach that makes my throat hurt every moment of the day. Its been 4 months of this nightmare.
Ive been to numerous doctors and nobody seems to know what to do, and they keep telling me that what I have has no cure. But I have to keep living with it.
How am I supposed to live with contant pain and with a hideous face? Every single one of my dreams would be impossible now.
I’ve had the courage of telling some of my friends that Im planning on commiting suicide and they all just tell me to keep waiting until things get better. Things will never get better. I’m an invalid watching the whole world have fun and fulfill their dreams, while I’m at home in constant pain that will never stop and knowing that I will never have a significant other.
I feel betrayed by life, and worst of all, I feel terrible I didn’t enjoy my healthy years as much as I could’ve. So much time was spent studying and working, preparing myself for a future that was never meant to come. It breaks my heart.
This is the first time I post something in the website. I was trying to explain why I’m sad but fuck it, I would need to write a whole book to even start. So I’m just gonna say how I feel. And even that is hard, because I always minimize my pain and I make myself look like I’m overreacting to everything. So I keep things to myself till I fucking blow up to the point that lately I can’t even go out with my friends to have drinks because in the end I end up fighting and yelling at them and feeling shitty the next day. Hating myself and pushing them away because I feel like a fucking burden. But at the same time hating them for not trying hard enough as I would try for them to be okay.
And today I feel like that, like I’m not worthy of anything. Of anyone. I’m even considering leaving my boyfriend, even though he is one of the few people that make me feel happy. But that’s the fucking problem, I feel so happy with him that I don’t think I deserve him and I know he will eventually get tired of me and I don’t want to make him go through all of my breakdowns.
I fantasize with death often, but I make an effort to think that maybe things will get better eventually. But lately I find less reasons to stay here. I think it’s not worth it, just like me.
There’s been way too many times, where I’ve been jealous of my brother. May it be his appearance or body in general. Or his great health.
I just don’t understand, what went wrong with me, when my family is able to have pretty children. Like what the fudge am I.?
I work really hard on myself, yet can’t ever look as good and be pain-free as them.
I love, how my ‘obsession’ over that, makes me look narcissistic in the eyes of psychotherapy.
I’ve got the word written down a lot of times in my last Psych-report.
Now I’m just wondering… Aren’t ‘people like me’ just meant to be that way.? Pretty people don’t ever have to think about all that crap.
All this self-hatred, just because I wasn’t lucky enough.
I think I made this post after two years since my last post, because I’ve been trying to connect with old friends. And they all look good and happy. And I’m still stuck after 6 years.
I love my mind, my creativity and even the dark places it can go to sometimes. But… My body is all ‘wrong’. Positivity is really not for me, I fall harder whenever I try.
When you love your mind that much, that you’re scared to die, but don’t see another exit… What do you do.?
(I hope I didn’t make someone hate themselves even more, rather than thinking: This person has the thoughts, I’ve been having today. Also, looking up your friend’s life’s on social media is always a bad idea. They might suffer as much as you do, but try to pretend it’s glamorous.)