im in 9th grade and theis friday we ware having a talent show. well get this. i was just in practes and we war 1 mesure (4 beets) off and we got kiked out becaus the ***** hates me and my friend! we had woked for about 3 months on a song calld bring me to life by evenecenc. three bloody months! the ***** oferd us our $10 back….how dous that compensate for time wasted i cold have ben working on my web page or sompthing i even made a fuking efort to stop cutting my self so i woldent freek out the liddel kids with cut marks up my wrists!!!! god i blody hate her!!!!!
I’m a white, male, divorced (twice) smoker.
As tax time approaches I can’t help ut wonder if there is any real contribution that the unwashed require of me but to just shut the f* up and pay the f* up.Â I think april 15th should be a mass suicide day perpatrated by white males everywhere which would send the world economy into a tailspinÂ of destruction with riots, looting and eventual collapse into the stone age.
Yes, I’m going to do it.Â Send my wealth off shore, fire the 28 people that work for me on the 13th and send a .38 through mu oblongota on the 15th.Â All you worthless freeloadersÂ waiting for a government check with some of my cash in it can kiss my fat white ass.Â Goodbye
To pull a trigger.Â To jump off the building.Â To make that last cut that’s really deep enough to do the damage.
It’s that last moment that’s always so hard to get around.
There are so many opportunities to die.Â So many.Â And so easy it is!Â And yet there’s something that holds most of us back when we get to that edge.
I suppose that’s the reason why lots of us choose pills instead of more direct means…Â It’s hard to actually take action to be physically destructive to the self in a final way.Â But pills?Â They’re easy.Â They don’t hurt when you take them.Â And they don’t act on you immediately.
I have remained for four days unable to move past the last moment.Â Death has been one finger twitch away.Â But it has not come.Â The last tiny little action has not come.Â I’ve stopped myself every time.Â Even when I’ve been so confident I’d do it, I’ve stopped myself, waited, put down the weapon, looked around myself, got up, and walked away.
I’ve four to six days left that I can wait.Â I’ve enough money to keep waiting that long.Â Living in hotels, waiting for the moment of inspiration to come to bring me past that last roadblock. It’s just one click.Â One twitch of the finger.Â One infinitely small action.
I pray I can make it.Â Re-integration with the rest of the matter of the universe has been a long time coming.
I am a 14 year old boy, and I had fallen in love with a 16 year old girl, and she had fallen in love with me. We dated for months, and I think most would call our relationship unhealthily obsessive. We spent literally most of every day together, and we could barely bear to be away from eachother. We both thought about the other frequently, and we’d claimed that we always wondered if we were thinking about eachother at the same time. I always forgave her for everything and felt horrible when she gave up something for my sake, such as canceling something to be with me.
But, one week, we had a particularly bad time together; we argued more and when we were together we didn’t say much and I felt awkward and uncomfortable. I thought it was going to get better next week, but it didn’t, and it kept getting worse week after week for nearly a month.
I foolishly decided that she didn’t love me anymore and that our relationship wasn’t going to last any longer. I lied to her when I said I’d always be with her, through good times and bad times. I left her. She didn’t take it well, and she overdosed on drugs, and went comatose for 16 days then died on December 15, 2008.
Now I realize how much I love her and how much I need her. I realize how wonderful she was and she’s probably the best I’ll ever have. How am I supposed to feel knowing someone I loved killed herself because she loved me so much and couldn’t bear the pain of being away from me when I left her? Is there even a life for that? I’m even in denial at sometimes and I have trouble accepting she’s really gone. When I’m alone and crying, I still can’t believe she’s really gone and that this can’t really be happening.
I miss her so much… I still even write to her, even though I know she won’t read it. I just feel like I can never let go.
And on top of that, all but one my friends have drifted away from me. I’ve grown to dislike everything and search for faults and I start to hate people I know more and more. They’ve begun to stop talking to me, because I am always sad and I never want to do anything. And my only friend is someone I don’t know in person, but someone I met over the internet, and she hates it when I’m sad.
How do I get over this loss? I’ve tried calling out for help on the internet several times before, but it doesn’t help much… Thanks for reading.
I’ve read a couple of posts and I think its great that people have a chance to express themselves and get others to help. I’ve tried to fill myself 4 or 5 times now and I havent been able to do it. I know that most people have issues and that they find it difficult to talk to someone or maybe feel that there is no way out.
I never believed in suicide and I always thought that anyone that tired to kill themselves was selfish and that they didn’t think of the people around them that could help. At the very worst I thought you could get help medically through counselling etc.
My problem is that…when does it become acceptable for someone against suicide, someone that doesn’t physically hurt themselves and doesn’t have a history of mental illness, apart from an outside view, have a reason to commit suicide?????
I really thought never. There is always someone to talk to, but what if you had no one to talk to as your story and situation is not understandable by anyone. Here’s mine:
What if you had an operation and found out that you were accidentally lobotomised?? You no longer had the same thoughts or feelings and the people that thought they knew who you were now can look at me and to them nothings changed. Ironic?
6 years ago I had a car accident that in a lot of peoples eyes changed me…the truth was that I started to get really nervous and I couldnt figure out why, it had nothing to do with the car accident but because I started to twitch uncontrollably after being back at school for a while. It was my a level year and I just wanted to finish so I could start feeling and being myself around new people. It’s not that I didnt have friends but I never really opened up to being socially happy all the time. Girl issues etc. But when I came back from the accident and started getting nervous I couldnt relax after I left school and so over time the person I was stopped talking to anyone. I lost my place to relax and just listen to my music or be alone….the twitch I had would always stop me from relaxing and eventually going out the house at all. The funny thing is I got a girlfriend after school and was happy for a while but it still didnt resolve that I was getting really scared of people. In the end we broke up after I spent a year in a flat we got together thinking that it would give me a chance to relax and gain back some confidence. It didnt work and it ate away at our relationship that never got started. Until a few months ago I didnt go out at all, I work(ed) from so I didnt have to go out and I saw the possiblities of it working and I truely believed it would. I went to the post office and that was it. Went to see my brother a couple of times in Manchester thinking again that a new town and different people might mean I wouldnt have a problem but, still no change….I have got pretty paranoid and so always felt walking out my own front door that I would have to talk to poeple that might know me or know of me and this meant I started to think that new places and new people might give me the psychological affect I needed to feel more confident.Â
I never felt that my mind had any problems…just that I was aware of people and paranoid to my own twitching which esculated the problem created by the twitch in the first place.
Then last year things happened and I got ill with a virus that effects and affects the body and brain and soul. It is called Anti NMDA receptor Encephalitis. Some people get very ill very quickly and find that they go on life support machines. When this happens they might find that have pschological problems as well which can result in need for serious care. I had the illness I think, all year. They put me through various treatments and everything worked but after the treatments the pschological problems occured. I have now found out that I was accidently lobotomised whilst they tried to stop the progression of the illness. Only a few men in the world have ever had the illness and my case has been extreme.
Now I am as everyone always saw me. It’s not getting any better and I have no one to talk to as I have memories and distant feelings of how I was but never being able to get back to me……..no more twitch though.
I have tried taking a whole bottle of sleeping pills along with alcohol and paracetamol but nothing worked. I then tried more pills and recently looked and tried cutting myself for the first time. I don’t want to do it but I can’t think of anything else to do. I got to a point where I jabbed some small scissors into myself tonight but I don’t really know what to do now.
I expect I’ll try taking pills again and I already expect what to hear people say to me on this site….its not easy.
Thanks for listening.
Yesterday was my brother’s birthday.
My brother, who would have been 47 years old, committed suicide by hanging himself from his attic trapdoor in the hallway of his house on December 15th, 2008.Â He left no note, no explanation, no message of any kind.Â Since his death I’ve had the near-obsession of recreating his life from the scraps that were left.Â An email here and there (I was able to hack into his computers), a receipt from Home Depot (for rope, plastic zip ties, and a metal pole) that was dated four weeks prior, bills and business files, phone calls and messages on his cellphone, the potroast that he cooked the night before, it’s remains neatly stored in tupperware in his refrigerator, a DVD movie that was left in his DVD player — these bizarre findings are all clues now to me on this quest.
But, I digress.
On the morning of December 15th, my 74 year old mother got an early phonecall from my brother’s office, from employees at his computer sales/service/tech business.Â They said he wasn’t there to open up, which was strange, it had never happened before.Â So my mother drove across the small town to his house, knocked and beat on the door for over 30 minutes, and eventually broke a small window on the kitchen door to let herself in.
She started to scream when she saw him, still lightly swinging,Â the rope around his neck, a ladder-backed chair that I had given him kicked out from under the lifeless body swaying in the hallway.Â My mother was torn between the complete horror of the situation and the strong surge of maternal instinct to relieve him somehow, to hug him, to get him down, to help him, this child she had borne and loved.
She only stopped screaming when she was so hoarse she was barely able to whisper and the police had arrived.
An investigation ensued that lasted a week, my brother was sent to the crime lab in Atlanta, was photographed and prodded by a coroner and a pathologist and who knows how many detectives and others.Â The official finding was suicide even though he was clever enough to use zip ties to bind his wrists behind his back. The body was released to us on late Friday night, we were made aware of the laws in his state regarding un-embalmed corpses by the funeral home director, so we had to plan and execute a memorial service and cremation in less than 24 hours.
I wrote the obituary, bought food and drink for a wake, arranged for my brother’s best friend and business partner to give a non-religious eulogy, bought new clothes for the mortuary employees to dress him in, made financial arrangements with the funeral home director, and went to a private, family-only viewing of the body, all in the small space of around 12 hours.Â I didn’t cry, I didn’t even think the whole time.Â I was strong enough to do this somehow.Â To this day, I do not know how.
The private viewing was the most horrific and gut-wrenching one event that I’ve ever had to endure.Â My brother was barely recognizable, although the mortuary workers had done a good job in camouflaging his grievous, mortal injuries.Â His face was pale and swollen and I could see the deep purpley bruising marks that ran under his shirt collar and on his wrists.Â I wish that there was some way that I could erase this sight from my memory but it’s burned deeply into my retinas and my brain. My mother, my brother’s ex-wife and his two sons, and my other brother all broke down pitifully and loudly and understandably several times.
All I could think, the lines that kept running through my mind like a reel-to-reel tape loop was, “How could you do this to these people who so loved you?”Â “How will I ever be able to fix this massive pain in my family?” “How could you do this to us?”
We survived the ordeal as a family somehow, and I have now returned to my home some 450 miles away.Â My mother will never fully recover and her health is failing as a result, she probably will not live through this year.Â And every now and then, at the most absurd and inopportune times, a picture of my brother kicking that chair away or of him in the pitiful cremation casket at that funeral home will flash through my mind like an electrical current burning it’s horror all the way down to the pit of my belly and I have to suddenly sit or bend over gasping at the pain that courses through the very core of my being.
If you’re ever considering suicide, PLEASE, reach out to someone and PLEASE, do not put the people who love you through this never-ending agony.
That date might not mean much to you, it’s just like easter sunday or monday or whatever, to you. To me, that’s going to be the date on my grave; May 1994 – April 2009. I’m doing it then, simply because that’s when I’m guarenteed no one [my grandparents, my brothers] is going to walk in and somehow manage to prolong this. Somehow manage to like, spring me backÂ to lifeÂ and race me to the hospital so they can “save” me while still conveniently managing to give me amnesia or something so I forget that I’m supposed to DIE.
Also, they’ve told me they’re sending me to theropy. Because I need help. Because there’s something wrong with me.
It makes no sense, they tell me I’m a sociopath, that I have anxiety, severe depression, ADD, bipolar and tons of other bull like that [I have no idea what half of those even mean, but according to them, I’ve got it. Among other things I can’t remember how to pronounce, so am not even going to attempt to write out]. They think I’m going to like freak out [“snap”, in their words…] and kill them all. I mean, yeah, I’ve thought of it, but I’m not getting locked up for actually doing it. They’re just jumping to conclusions. And my only problem isn’t even going to be a problem much longer, I have the soloution; hence, no problem. What’s the point in gettingÂ “help”, if they’re going to tell me to NOT kill myself? They just lie and lie and lie, all of them. Always, about everything. And, once I’m dead, they won’t have to deal with me anymore. So ,really, they should thank me. My grandparents have made it quite clear the burden I am to them, seeing as what grandparents, whom have just gotten rid of their children, want to suddenly inherit a teenager with all of my “issues”? Exactly. My grandmother’s afraid of me, and my grandfather takes every opportunity to yell and scream and remind me how muchÂ I fail at everything and that I need toÂ try harderÂ and make something of myself. He doesn’t seem to have gotten it through his head that since I was 11 I’ve known I’m never making it to my 18th birthday, so why even bother. There’s no point.
He tells me how I “make it so hard for him to love me” and whatnot, and they make me hug them after they scream at me, trying in vain to make me cry or, like, show some kind of emotion. I don’t cry. Or they just want to witness the hyperventilating that always follows when they start screaming like that. Really, how is it fair when you get yelled and screamed at to no end, then you have to hug the person that was just yelling at you, and tell them you love them. Then, add in the fact that I don’t know what love is.
Â Is it, like, when you would die for them or would just be really sad if they died, or you couldn’t kill them? Because, in all honesty, I can’t think of one person off the top of my head I’d really care if they died, I’d probably be kinda jealous, actually. And I really just want to burn the house down with them inside, and throw my mother inside as well, just for good measure. So, if that’s all love is, then, yeah they’ve been making me lie. I’ve never felt it, never mind to them.
It’s funny actually, they’ve “diagnosed” me with everything except being suicidal. I find that absolutely hysterical. They completely dance around the fact that I hate my life and wish every night I wouldn’t wake to see the next day, or would trip in front of a bus on the way to school or something. Or anything.
Well, that’s good for me. They might have thought of theropy earlier if I’d let on what was really going on. Another thing they fail to realize, when they call me a sociopath, which I just looked up, they’re wrong. I think. I mean, I just don’t talk about how I feel, or let myself feel…what I should feel or something. I guess. I don’t know. Whatever, confusing thoughts.
Oh, man, I didn’t know I could draw this out for that long. It’s really kinda pointless, even after I deleted a ton of it. Huh.
Well, if you got all the way to the end, hats off to you. I’m sure the vast majority, if they even started to read it, got to the first few sentences and were like, “Wow, I’d really rather swallow razors then read anymore of this. Pathetic.” Then quickly skipped along, shaking their head. I really only did this for me, to see it or something…I dunno…
Ah, well. April 12th. Well…maybe sooner, if I can get them outta the house. I hope sooner.
Â I think it all happened in seventh grade. I met this wonderful girl, her name was Patricia. I first met her in drama class, she had brought this razor to class and was cutting up her notebook. All I could think of was the razor I played with last night cutting into my wrists again and again. I slowly fell for her, she didn’t even help me up. I was so near to telling her how I had felt, but she told me about this guy, they were going out and she was inlove with him. . . She tore my heart out, squised it and walked away with it. Every time in class, she would talk of her love. I just nodded my head and told her I was happy that she finally had someone. Secretly, I wished that she would be depressed once more and come and talk to me. It never happened. I was left on the sidelines, watching her with her love. I had no one.
Â Every night I would slit my wrists, wondering what I could do to be with this girl. She was my everything. I’m not sure how I ever got over her. I’m not even sure IF I’m over her. But I could live with it either way.
Â She made me happy and she made me so depressed. She showed me everything she knew about the razor and its game. I accepted it all, and slowly I was winning. She stopped and I continued. Once she left though, I was able to stop.
Â In highschool, I saw her once more. Everything came back. My razor. My thoughts. And the scars.
Â Now every night I sit up and hold the razor close, wondering how far I can push it into my skin and how much blood it would bring.
I dont know what im going to do without her. She was my bestfriend at least i thought. I wasted 3 years of my life in some friendship. You might say friendships come and go.. but ill tell you why this one was diffrent. We were more then friends at one point. She started it and i went along with it just so happy that someone loved me. One night when she stayed the night she put her arm around me and that was it. Its as much as my fault as it is hers i didnt stop anything. Nothing serious ever happened just cuddling and hugging. One day she was over she kissed me on the cheek. I didnt know what to do so i just looked at her and smiled and then sprawled out more on the couch. I never wanted to be intimate with her. I think it was just having someone to hug all the time. This went on for a year and slowly fadded. Till she would push me away and i didnt know why. Dropped like nothing I was. I thought she hated me or I did somthing wrong. I didnt understand what I did. I finally confronted her she said she wished it never happend and she was sorry…The thing is she said it like it was nothing but i actually had feelings I loved her she was my bestfriend. I understood though it was hard but i got over it. I relized I was never sexually attracted to her. I still wanted to be her friend and she said she wanted to be my friend i was like her sister she told me. Then she slowly stopped talking to me.( we have another friend that hangs out with us) and she just started being her bestfriend and completely ignoring me and started treating me like crap. I would say one word and she just snaps at me and puts me down. There was a point in our friendship were i was her bestfriend who she would tell anything to. I never wanted to lose her as my friend cause I knew some where in her was her old self that would talk to me and want to hangout all the time. but I guess I was wrong. TodayÂ I told herÂ I had enough. She agreed to everything i said and how she treated me when i was around her. She said she didnt know why but little things i did bugged her to the point of wanting to scream…..( i barley say more then 2 words to her a day and i never seee her) ofcorse i didnt know what i didnt and she could tell me what i did eaither. She wouldnt tell me yes or no on wether or not she wanted to be my friend but she made it clear. I told her im tired of wasting my time with a person who dosnt want to be around me and im tired of putting in so much effort and being treated like crap right back then she said then dont. Thats allÂ I needed to hear. I told “ok then I will…call me if you change your mind”. I know this all sounds stupid even i think it does when i go back in read it, but for some reason the pain is just so unbarable and i dont know why? I prepared myself so much for this and i have other friends so i have no reason why im in so much pain or how to make it go away? Im so affraid of death i even cry sometimes just thinking about getting older yet it seeems so easy. If things keep going down hill I dont know what will happen to me. Im already an emotional person and things like this just dont help. im open for advice
Im putting this somewhere in cyberspace since no one in my life would bother to read it if I left it here and I want someone somewhere to know my story.
Ive been alone for so long now that I can barely remember what its like to have an actual conversation and the crushing solitude has crossed the threshold of the unbearable and any hope of rekindling any kind of social connection has long since faded so its time to hang it up (not literally though im way too much of a ***** to do it that way).Â I donâ€™t know why people find it so horrible to be with me or to talk to me or even be around me. While reading through other peoples posts I found a lot of â€˜betrayals by friendsâ€™ and I found myself envying even that. Something, anything.Â And I donâ€™t mean that to sound like im worse off then you, if I made it sound like im trying to make it a contest im sorry but you probly hate me anyway.Â Im used to people hating me but at least this time those people will have a good reason. Im so desperate for human contact, physical or emotional, that accidental eye contact on the street or a strangers knees hitting mine on a bus will make my week. But I donâ€™t blame them, the people around me.Â I realize that fault lies solely with me.Â Because of who I am no one will ever be able to love me.Â No matter how I try I just end up pushing people away, regardless of how desperately I want them to stay.Â The only girl I ever loved was in my life 8 years ago, now im sure she doesnâ€™t even remember me because of the creature, monster I am yet I still think about her every day.Â Every time I look down the road into the futures theres still the same image; me, falling deeper into the endless chasm of isolation.Â When theres not a shadow of a doubt in your mind thatâ€™s what waiting for you in your future whats left to stop you.Â Since theres no loved ones to leave behind I can end it with a clean conscience, I feel sorry for those of you who make yourself continue your suffering because you donâ€™t want to hurt others, its one of the most noble and kind things anyone can ever do and no one will even know you did it.Â My parents donâ€™t love me, at least not as much as they did my brother so when he died they got stuck with their second choice and I can see it in their eyes everytime they look at me that they has wished id been the one.Â Ive hung on as long I as I possibly could but it gets clearer and clearer everyday that things are never going to get better.Â The worlds turned its back on me and nothing will ever get it to give me another chance, not that I wouldnâ€™t fuck that chance up anyway.Â So once this pathetic existence, if you can even call it that, is over itll be as if I never was, no ones life will be any different or feel any effect.Â And hey, theyâ€™ll even give my roommate Aâ€™s for the semester as is the roommate death policy here so at least one good thing will have come from my life.Â Its very fitting that the only good thing that came from my life will have been from my death.Â Donâ€™t feel sorry for me, im the happiest ive ever been now that ive made this decision.Â I know theres going to be plenty of you who will hate me for putting up a story that has suicide as a good ending but what can I tell you, in my case it was.Â I think suicide is a terrible ending if it happens out of grief from loss or traumatic event or something like that but when your like me and youâ€™ve spent countless hours thinking about this and making your decision and your final conclusion is that you do want to do it I just donâ€™t think anyone has the right to stop you. Well thatâ€™s itâ€¦
Sorry you wasted your time reading this
as a child beaten and unloved, told to leave and never to return.
alone and desperate for love, let in love, well what i thought was love, to be let down and left with two wonderfull children, but still wanted to be loved and wanted to be wanted, let love in again, to be beaten and abused, no one to help, let down by everyone,Â 12 years long years, trying to hide it form my (now three) children, lost in the divorce, hunted out of my home, relocated, in poverty, no fridge, cooker, carpets, and baillifs around tomorow to take what i have left.
iam numb, i have let my children down, iam in tears.
I have always been a VERY strong person. I am the one people would come to for advice and for strength but lately I find myself completely without strength and it also feels like no one I have ever been there for is there for me now. I have rheumatoid arthritis and I’m 28 years old. I was born with the disease and my whole childhood was destroyed by the illness. I never had a normal life. So I grew up knowing how to deal with pain and suffering. However, I went into complete remission when I was 18 and my life became wonderful. I did everything I never could do before. I had a great career in radio as a reporter and writer, the things I always wanted to do. Then when I was 25, around my birthday the rheumatoid arthritis came back. At first I was in denial but pretty soon I had to accept it. I had to quit my career because working in media requires the ability to be mobile and full of energy. Rheumatoid Arthritis takes away your mobility as well as your energy. Now I am 28 and I feel like my life is just completely over. Every dream, every want, every thing I have said I’d do in life is now impossible. I have to live on my Social Security and I can barely even work part time. I’ve been trying to find part time work to help with the complete lack of anything going on in my life but I have not found one yet. I just sit at home all day, everyday, except to go to the grocery store and while I sit I am in pain. I am in terrible pin when I first wake up. It’s the worst when I wake up. I take narcotic pain killers that are legally prescribed to me but those also present a problem…they wear off and I feel worse than before. But without the pills I cant walk at all. But even with the pills I’m not as mobile as a normal person. And I still have pain. My doc said the pain can only be expected to be 40% less than what it would be without the pain killers. 40% is better than nothing but it’s not complete. I am still in awful pain everyday, every minute – every second that I’m alive. MY existence is shit and there is NOTHING anyone can do. I don’t respond to the medications they have for the illness so I’m left taking naproxsen and oxycodone. I can feel my bones wasting away. The really crappy part is that NO ONE knows what I am going through. People pretend they understand but no one can really get what it is like to be in chronic pain every second of every day. They don’t understand how it can affect a persons well being. I am not myself, I find no joy in anything. Songs I used to love mean nothingÂ to me now. I find no happiness anywhere. The only person that I know cares about me is my husband and he works very hard to give us a good life but I know even he is frustrated that I can’t do more. He would never say it but I know normal people don’t understand what I’m going through and they don’t seem to get why I can’t just “be happy” or just “live with it”. It’s incredibly hard to ignore terrible pain.
Today I woke up and I really wanted to die. I just wanted to lay down and give up. From what I’ve read if you are like me, born with this disease, and it comes back later in life, you will never get rid of it again. So where does that leave me but with a crappy life where I’m constantly in pain and then I die. It seems so empty and so pointless. We own a gun,Â I could just shoot myself….I just keep trying to live “day by day” as my therapist always reminds me to do, but it is so hard at times there are just some mornings I wake up and I just want myÂ life to end. There is no happiness to look forward to anyway, my condition will never change. The US govt’ is so wrapped up in religion that they are not letting science progress as it should so I can’t get a cure for this disease, so in my lifetime I will never be cured. I”ll be a cripple with awful pain my entire life. I know husband is going to want to have kids soon…how can I carry a child, i can barely walk as I am now. I hate myself and I want to die. I mean this type of existence is pointless. I will not get better – I will just get worse…it’s proven science…and I don’t have enough money or insurance for knee replacements so I will be so bad off I will be wheelchair bound soon enough. It’s all down hill from here. Whats the point in living.
I’ve been this way for years now. Antisocial. Never the popular guy. Kind of a hermit, I keep to myself. I’ve dealt with depression and feelings of suicide before, but they eventually went away. In the last year though, I’ve really gone back downhill. I’m living alone and I lost by job back in December. That kind of deflated me. For the last year, I’ve been employed for maybe five or six months and for the rest of the time I’ve been jobless. Nothing inspires me. Any job I ever work is thankless and uninspiring and I find myself depressed even when I DO have a job because there’s nothing around here that I really enjoy. Half the time I feel like too much of an idiot to get a better job because I’m what you might call a “book smart, not common sense smart” kind of guy.
Anyway, when I lost my job, I kind of gave up on myself. I decided that I no longer have the energy to deal with life and all the bullshit that comes with it, so I gave up. I don’t even have the energy to apply for new work. I’ve literally given up on myself. I’ve turned in various applications, but nobody’s hiring. I owe crazy amounts of money, so much it’s ridiculous. I don’t have NEARLY enough money to pay all the money that I owe, and in the next two months, I’ll probably be homeless. To make matters worse, my car is screwed up. It won’t start, nobody knows what’s wrong with it and I don’t have the money to take it to a shop and figure out what’s wrong. As a result of my car trouble, I’ve been holed up in this apartment for weeks now unable to go anywhere and it’s driving me stir crazy. I just want to scream.
I just constantly keep thinking to myself, “why can’t I wake up one day and be happy? Why can’t things be fixed?” Unlike depression with other people, I don’t think mine has anything to do with medical issues or chemicals in my brain. My depression is a direct result of the situation I’m in. There’s no pill I can take to fix that. I feel like there’s no way out, and the only source of peace is suicide. But then I’m terrified of going to hell for killing myself, so even THAT isn’t a happy option for me. I feel like there’s literally no way out. I feel like I’m in a crowded room full of people just screaming for help and no one can even hear me, nor do they care.
I no longer have any energy, emotional or otherwise. I feel like I’m completely spent. I feel like I’ve already lived eight lifetimes and the thought of going on for another day is too exhausting. I’ve given up on myself and I don’t know what to do. I can’t handle life anymore.
Okay so I was reading some post people made about the people who write on this website. I can’t stand people that judge. Who call us sick. A big part of my depression is genetics, so I can’t help it. I know there are people who have it wrose off then I do but still you can’t call/judge people on their feelings. So in my eyes those people who do judge/call names, are the ones who are sick. It’s kinda hard for some of us to deal with things. And I’m sure if those people who talk shit went through some things that some of us have they might have a better understanding.
Â So if you’re one of thos sick people who judge please tell me how you would deal with being molested as a child, being verbal abused by a parent, having your dad pass away, when you were extremly close to him, or having a miscarriage, being rapped and getting pregnant from that, and having another misscarriage, find out that your fiance was cheating,or being put own your whole life.
Because I’m sure you would find yourself weak at any time if you could go through what I have or even what anyone else has on this site.
So that’s my little rant for the night. People are just ignarant. And need to walk a day in someone elses shoes. Everyone has feelings and thats what makes us human.
I so wish I could rewind my life and go back to start over. I was driving hone from work today and I just had a constant thought running through my mind…I want to just keep driving, never to look back, just start my life over, somewhere no one knows me, knows my past…There’s parts of me I hate. When did I become the person who does half the things I do. I look at myself in the mirror and I get disgusted. I had so many dreams for my life, and who I am now, was not one of them. I don’t understand how someone can feel so alone when surrounded by people. On the outside I act like I am fine, and I’m never fine. I want to go back to the days where I had no worries. I know I promised so many people I wouldn’t harm myself again…but I don’t know what else to do. Thoughts of suicide just seem to be my best friend now.
I dont know what to do. I am 13 years old and I dont know if I can take it anymore. My parents are divorced, my dad has anger issues and yells a lot. I feel like I have to protect my step brother and step sister because my step mom doesn’t do anything. My step mom gets stressed and takes her anger out on me. My mom is also stressed and takes her anger out on me. At school I try to be friends with everyone but everyone just ignores me and whispers behind my back about how I smell and how ugly I am. My heart has been crushed twice by both of the girls I liked. I just don’t know what to do. I want to die. I cant talk to my mom because she will just get angry with me, I cant get a psychologist because they cost money and I feel so helpless. I feel like that even if I died no one would care I had gone. I have a moderate to extreme case of depression diagnosed by my psychologist my mom no longer lets me see. I just dont want to do this anymore. This is the only place I can talk about this. It gives me a little bit of comfort that it’s just now me all alone in the world.
I went to counseling like I do every 2 weeks. And we talked, and she said that they can change that I want to kill myself. The fact the I want to kill my self is logical. I have logic. I have a long speech about you die anyways and life doesn’t matter. I told her this, her reply: We can change the way you think about that (Or something to that extent). WTF? So I talk to ma mom about it and she’s like “They mean the way you perceive life” and I’m like, the way I perceive life is the way I think!!!!!! So you want to change the way I think? You want to change what makes me me? 1, I don’t believe that you can. 2, you just want everyone to be normal, you want to shape normal, you want everyone to be your idea of good, right, normal, the way it should be. Sounds like a cult.
Question: Can they do that?
Do I make any sense to you?
What is your though on this?