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For those who have passed on.

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Tortured… I know it well , Terry A Davis.

by TorturedAndExiled
written by TorturedAndExiled

Ive been betrayed, abused, mentally fucked, cheated, lied to , spied on, stolen from, robbed of happyness and all my belongings, caged in psych wards, my entire life… But it occured to me, a few years ago… That I too, live in some kind of floating box CIA prison , the same as Terry A Davis claimed he did, and explained… For over 20 years. Even in my youth, people shit on me, talk down to me, betray me. .. fuck me over… The suicide attempts, the depression, the pain i went through, the betrayals…. I never knew I lived in some kind of prison that followed me around until a few years ago, I didnt know that this life was a construct around me, with the deliberate purpose of torturing me… the entire “gangstalking” things is a cover up, honey trap, for the real victims to run to online, where they just abuse them more, and discredit them.. a whole fiasco, a shit show. a mockery of the true “target” of theirs. .. . what a fucking joke. the jokes on me. as Terry A Davis said, “i live in a cia prison, a ****** runs my prison” …… yeah…. Yeah sure, we developed all the symptoms of schizophrenia, most heavily abused people do. It didnt come natural. We werent given a chance in life. To be normal. Because we think differently. We dont suck societies cock. We arent pussies. We dont conform like sheep following a trend. Thats cool. Thats punk rock. Terry A Davis , id like to say I can make it until the day comes, where this torture shit , the truth is revealed. And i will try. But today is a bad day. Im pretty down. I joined this site to rant. To express my pain and sorrow. Sometimes I dont know if I can make it another day. What a shit life. I will try to see the day this is exposed and get some kind of vindication for you. If for nothing else.

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People always tell me that I’m privileged, spoiled, and have a good life, that I should be grateful. But what if that is still not enough? What if I want so much more in life?

by niki
written by niki

I’m an idealist. I have big dreams, and even visions to change the world. But sadly, in reality, there are still so many factors that limit me from achieving all my dreams. Instead, here I am just being another normal, ordinary, average Joe on the street that just only do mundane, boring, & meaningless job everyday. Even worse now, this all has led me to experience an existential crisis (or existential depression), that honestly, now I don’t even have any motivation, or basically zero energy to wake up every morning, because what’s the point? What is the point of living, and what is the purpose & meaning of life, if I have to be just like everybody else with their simple mind (simpleton) with their optimistic/positive/positivity motto “Live, Laugh, Love”, but at the cost of sheer ignorance, being oblivious, & stupidity? That’s just depressing for me. Is that all there is? That’s it? I wish life could be so much more than this! I just can’t accept that this is all there is! That’s just a cold, boring, & depressing reality! I wish there are more in life than all of this stupid pointless, meaningless bullshit & nonsense everyday for the rest of my life until I die. “Life sucks and then you die”, if that’s the case, then why not just check out early? There are even many stories & cases of the so-called “privileged, spoiled, fortunate, lucky, rich, or even successful” people who died from suicide. So it’s not just “poor, unfortunate, low-class, struggling” people. It’s all random. Some people will live, while some people will die. That’s just how it is. That’s life. And that’s just the reality.

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“I don’t believe in luck! I create my own luck!”. Most people seriously underestimate how luck plays a BIG/HUGE factor in life.

by niki
written by niki

A friend of mine used to tweet a phrase that always sticks with me: “Some people are lucky, some people are not.” That was some years ago, and the more I live now, the more I see (& realized/learned) that it’s true. Most people seriously underestimate how luck plays a BIG/HUGE factor in their lives. Or in life, for all that matters. I don’t know and I’m not sure if it’s due to the meritocracy thing (“If you work hard, you WILL succeed/reach success!”), or if it’s due to the ‘positive/optimistic’ self-help culture/trend/hype that is literally almost everywhere nowadays, etc etc. But I think it’s very naive, simplistic, & ignorant if people seriously believe that they control ALL and EVERY aspect of their life/lives.

Even the posts here in this website that will get popular & many comments, and other posts that get almost no view/comment or even banned/deleted (even though when they’re really good posts, but sadly just very underrated or underappreciated), it also has the ‘luck’ factor in it. And as a result (or even the fatal consequences), no wonder some people in this website will feel even more alone, unloved, nobody cares, and some of them will probably even decide to be ‘gone forever’ by committing suicide.

But back to the main point again: if you really think much more deeper, you will see that it’s all random (yes, somewhat nihilistic). Some people will win, & some people will lose. Some people will survive & live, while some people will die. I always view our human species just like those little ants: There are billions of them on this planet, and some will get crushed & die, while some other will survive & live. That’s basically our human life too. In fact, it’s ALL lives in this universe. Some will live; Some will die.

Lastly, it’s the same thing with all of us here who are depressed & suicidal. You take a look at all your other friends, family, colleagues, or people, and how they somehow are happy, or even successful, and then you think: “Why I can’t be like that too?”, even though you’ve tried or even work really hard. And then even when you eventually see how some of us in this website can finally recover, cured, healed, & finally lead a normal, happy, & successful life too, it will make you think the same again: “Why I can’t be like them?”.

I don’t know if it’s god, karma, universe, destiny, fate, or just simply pure random chances. But to say that you don’t believe in luck, playing at least SOME aspects/parts in your life, that’s just naive, ignorant, & too simple-minded. People who said that probably haven’t truly ‘open their eyes & wake-up’ to reality.

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Family & Friends EffectsStories of Loss

Letter to me 3 years later

by The riddler
written by The riddler

so the post below is from a few years ago, and I’ve decided to respond with it based on how I feel now.

 

 

original post:

 

June 3rd, 2016 was the day I snapped. I drove my car into a light pole at about 100kph. I just couldn’t/can’t handle life anymore. First responders arrived, I admitted to the crash being due to me wanting to die, and not losing control of the car. I was taken to the hospital where I was drugged up and put through extensive testing. I guess it was considered a serious crash even though I had no physical injuries. The next day I was transferred to a mental hospital for a 3 week term where I was supposed to become a mentally healthy individual that can become a functional member of society. I knew and know this was a waste of time since i have no will to live. I was put on an anti depressant and an anti anxiety medication. They did nothing.

 

Things have changed. I have a new found hate for myself. I used to hate not meeting up to other people’s expectations. Now, I can’t even lay down without thinking about killing myself and all the reasons why I should. I am not told by anyone that I should end my life or harm myself in any way. Like alot of people on this site, it’s all in my head. I hate my existence. I benefit nobody. I am easily replaced. There’s nothing for me here, I’m just a waste of space. I still feel the urge to kill myself to the same extent as last June,  I just haven’t found the right time to follow through and do something. I’m already dead inside, and it’s just a matter of time until I become a distant memory.

 

My response 3 years later to myself

 

Dear me;

you’re going to suffer memory loss likely for the rest of your life. You will have to claim bankruptcy and after everything is finalized and you’re free again you will decide to follow a debt free lifestyle.

 

 

You have found joy in working a job you enjoy with great people, even though you hate the brand you represent. You are going to find a new joy for cycling. it will start with weight loss, and move into something not only healthy for the body, but a sport that can be very social, and you’re going to learn the ways to love yourself.  Your will to live will gradually increase and soon ending it all will be a topic only to describe emotions of the past. All the medications DONT have to work, you will be surrounded by people that will push you like never before and that will create an ability to overcome hardship and handle stress.

The “new hate” is a temporary feeling. I wish I could have realized how much I was going to accomplish in the near future. I still remember the raw feelings of being dead inside, and its horrible but it will go away. Out of all the bolded words above, only one was true at the time. I was easily replaced, especially in the workplace. but with consistency and genuine effort, people are making me feel valued and appreciated.

 

 

I hope I do this again in a few years.

 

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GeneralStories of Loss

Love is the worst feeling.

by @pls_end_my_suffer
written by @pls_end_my_suffer

So I’m someone whose really gentle with others, maybe a little bit too much sometimes, and I’m also very shy, I also went through a period of bullying, which was resolved last year thanks to a girl I loved and with whom we got along very well, one day everything broke and then got repaired and so on, the problem is that I’m at fault, I wanted to get things done too much, now I’m afraid to talk with anyone, so I found comfort in the alcohol but one day a friend of mine told me that she was going out with someone when she told me that if nothing was happening between us it was because she wanted to wait, that she was not ready, she lied to me, I felt betrayed, I started mutilating my arms again, hitting my face and thighs, the worst part of it all is that I want to see her again even knowing that any love relationship is impossible, I just wanted us to be happy, finally I just destroyed my life until I became sick and vomited almost every morning in class, I just wanted to be loved by the person I love. I want to end this suffering, I want to get better but a voice in my head tells me every night to end my life, I can’t take it anymore, I want to live happily, that’s all.

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I’M THE ONE YOU’VE COME TO TALK TO. LEAVE A COMMENT

by OddOneOut
written by OddOneOut

What’s on your mind, bud? Talk to me.
I know you came on this website to see what people have to say, to see if you can leave any comments. And I also know that you want to leave comments on people to help them with the shit they’re going through.

SCREW THAT. THAT’S NOT WHY YOU’RE HERE. YOU’RE HERE BECAUSE YOU NEED HELP, YOU NEED SOMEONE WHO’LL LISTEN.

I WILL LISTEN.

Leave a comment, let’s talk. I’ll listen. No judgement, no problem-solving (unless you want it). I’ll try my best to understand, I’ll try my best to here you until you’re through, and most importantly I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU. Talk to me, leave a comment.

To the admins: I’ve been here since 2012, if memory serves me. I’ve been to some of the deepest, shittiest parts of life and came back fighting with lots of psychedelics, booze, victories and losses. I’ve had an amazing amount of love thrown at me and have recently come back to this site with the intention of helping.

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Stories of HopeStories of LossSuicidal Survivors

Unloved by my own family

by SleepyAtty
written by SleepyAtty

Warning: mentions of self harm and other sensitive content. I’ll try to be vague on certain words. sorry if it triggers you, this is to make you feel like you’re not alone.

My mother was forced down and forced into intercourse with my father, who she was with for 16 years at the time when she got pregnant with me. SHE HATED ME FOR IT! she attempted to get an abortion, then failed. My father even attempted to throw my mother out a window, and luck was on my side as they failed to do so.

Growing was equally as miserable for me. my father was abusive to my mother, brother, and myself. I later in my life found that he was cheating on my mother too – as I have 3 siblings from different mothers that are the same age as myself. My own family thought I was a curse onto all of them, so I was treated like one growing up. I had no choice in the matter; as I didn’t have the means to escape. I was tortured, beaten, raped, abused, forced into having sex with drug dealers before I even hit 14 years old too. I was locked inside cages for 9 hours at a time and forced to watch my father rape them too.

Every day was miserable for me, I would get forced into BEGGING my father to do things to me – and he’d threaten to do them to my brothers if I didn’t. mom wasn’t any help, as she would overdose on various illegal drugs; and would rent me out to pedophile drug dealers to ensure she’d get her fix.

I attempted suicide 9 times during my life time, three of those times I was actually declared legally dead and put on life support. My dad would make betting rings with my mother and a friend of his on when I’d finally actually do it. He even raped me without protection and got me pregnant at 13 years old, of course he forced me to abort it. It’s not as easy as “get up and call the police.” because what people don’t understand is… to make us more dependent on him he got us into massive amounts of debt. in fact, my mother had to ask him to let us go to school to begin with!

But then it came to me….HOPE all because of one song.

This would be the one thing I would contribute to saving my life. see, when I was laying there half dead on the floor and hearing my brothers scream, I came to a realization as I tried to tune it out with a song I heard playing on the radio…. he may have power over me and them now, he can take away everything about me. he can make me a shell of my former self, he can break me and break me again. he can make me feel like I’m nothing, but the one thing he COULDN’T take is the power I had within myself to protect my brothers from him. I decided that throwing my pride away to protect them was worth it. I started begging him to do things to me instead, and I would sneak in books and such into our cages and keep learning to focus on something rather than the pain. Eventually, I became fluent in 3 languages, 4 if you count American Sign Language.

I focused completely on my future as well as my brothers’ futures too, and we formed different ways of coping with our pain. then it happened, we got these small laptops from our school that had video cameras. my parents didn’t know, but I made a Facebook and reached out to my uncle. he asked about why they didn’t talk to him much, and at first … he didn’t believe me because “your father goes to church every Sunday and works as an engineer, my sister is a nurse for Christ’s sake!” and he put him on a high horse. I made a plan to prove it to him, I had him Skype me. my parents didn’t notice the camera was on, and my uncle caught my mother shoving my hand onto a pan that was JUST taken out of the oven followed by my father branding me again.

He found out about the massive debt he put us in to make us dependent on him. Now, my uncle had enough of that. he’s active duty army you see, so he gets paid a lot of money. he saved up for 2 years and I took a dead end job of working as a cleaner. we planned EVERYTHING in secret, and he helped me pay off ALL of our debt so that I could get us out of there. but that’s not all. he didn’t want us to go homeless, so he even got us plane tickets to come move in with him after proving to us by a DNA test and showing us his military ID.

We moved out on February 13th 2020. each of us have been going to trauma counseling. We also now have to get medical check ups once a month in the least due to all the permanent damage we got through various torture methods. I developed schizophrenia, severe PTSD, DID, paranoia, and I also get random tremors in my body that occur from the muscles in my body getting used to all the torture methods I’ve gone through. It was a HUGE struggle to survive, I only did so because I had to grovel and beg….

My message to the one(s) reading this is… please don’t give up. you may not be able to see it, but there’s a reason you’re suffering now. you’re growing so much stronger the longer you force yourself to stay alive. those scars on your body? the fat on it? the bones you may see? that’s your body. you have only one life, and people that love and depend on you would be devastated to lose you. please don’t throw the fight for the sake of being tired. I tried that so many times, you’re not doing anyone a favor. allow yourself to cry and let it out. I don’t care how “manly” or how “strong” you are, everyone has the urge to cry. cry all you want, and if that means for a few hours or even a few days – just do it. part of making yourself strong is the ability to accept and let your past scars be left where they belong, in the past. You are cared for by at least ONE person, even if it’s yourself. you’re beautiful in your own way, trust me. You’re hurting now, but the pain you feel is something that’s going to eventually make you into a person that you would want see when you face the mirror. all the scars you have are from the war you fight daily to make sure it doesn’t all end. despite everything, there has been some form of reason that you’ve been keeping yourself alive. for me, it was my brothers. for you… maybe it’s the possibility of having a future with someone that keeps you up. maybe it’s your pets, maybe it’s because it’s something small like you have to attend an event – let whatever positive thing it is be the reason you don’t throw the fight in… you’ve suffered this long, haven’t you? surely you can suffer as long as it takes to get yourself to a space where you’d be happy in. you deserve to feel happy, you deserve all the love and the care you could possibly ask for. <3

-Atty.

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Is there even a point?

by Empty Husk
written by Empty Husk

Life has shit on me that its driving me to the point of suicide. Lost my mother just this New Year. Lost my friends because some toxic psychopathic asshat manipulated everyone around me and decided to turn everyone against me. I took out loans to prepare for my fiance’s wedding just this month then 2 weeks later, I find out that shes cheating on me with another guy. As Im typing this, the cheaters are now rubbing it in my face that theyre now together and seeing each other.

Look on the bright side. You people literally have it better than me. At least youre not mocked, made of fun, dont have to suffer, not made into some sort of loser and social pariah who society has decided to chew out and spit out after its been done with it. No amount of empty platitudes like “At least you can eat three times a day” will ever make things all right in my life.

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The Funeral

by ghostingthem
written by ghostingthem

It was back in January. Our friends and I were sat all of five feet away from her casket during the service. She wasn’t religious, but they held a service anyway.

I felt like I couldn’t be seen crying. My friends were distraught, feeling sick and bawling like newborns. I was like a rock. I don’t think I cried at all. How sick does that make me? The monster who didn’t cry at their friend’s funeral. What’s worse is I’m now realising I never got to break down like them. I didn’t cry for hours or get comforted by doting parents. I was left alone, by my friends and my parents. Only the day after the service did i indulge myself, and I laid in bed well into the afternoon.

What sickens me is how my school dealt with us. A student had just died, of cancer no less, and all they did was shove her close friends into an unused room, leaving us to our own devices and having a teacher check on us every hour or so. We were given less than a week to grieve as one would expect, and yet on Monday, when the first bell chimed the vice principal tried to usher us to class.

The year head approached me a few days after that. She wanted to assure me that the school wasn’t ignoring us, but that ‘protocol’ dictated that the teachers had to get the school back to working order as wuickly as possible. I don’t want to believe that that’s what the protocol actually is, but it was completely unfair. They had little to nothing to offer us in terms of grieving resources or councelling sessions. It doesn’t help that the one guidance councellor in the entire school is completely shit at her job.

What pisses me off the most is how quickly things went back to ‘normal’. It was fake. A blur of the emotional storm that had actually been brewing for months afterwards. Some school, huh.

I didn’t go to her grave, in the end. I don’t think i would’ve been able. Able to bear the sight of her mother and father mourning the loss of their only child. Her broken family and friends.

I didn’t want to have to speak to them. I didn’t want people to ask me about her. My exclusive memories that shone a light on how much better she was then me.

To this day, every time I get a pain in my leg, I wonder, ‘why couldn’t it have been me?’. I’m nobody’s first choice. My own friends habe described me as ’emotionless’ and ‘wasted potential’. How am I not supposed to take that personally?

I know I’m loved. I know i have people who would miss me and mourn my death, but hell if she didn’t deserve to live more than me. She knew what she wanted to do, she never had a bad thing to say about anyone or anything. She was athletic and spontaneous and caring. And I’m a lazy ***** who ignores my friends when they text me.

I haven’t told any of them how badly I want to be dead. I don’t think I ever will. They don’t deserve to go through my petty bullshit. But more often than not these days, I wish I could just die. I’ve considered slitting my throat at least six times while making sandwiches. I’ve considered going to every shop in town to buy painkillers so I could hopefully overdose and die. I’ve considered slicing my thighs and forearms until I bleed out. I just want so badly to end my life.

I’ve never been interested in cutting. I’ve tried it, but it didn’t make be feel better, so I stopped. Instead, I scratch. I itch my skin until it bleeds, and when it scabs over, I pick it until it bleeds again. I drag thumb tacks over my skin until the point draws blood. I poke bruises and cuts. I always feel like I’m in pain, but i just do it less obviously so I don’t have to hide scars or bandages.

I wanted to die long before she died, long before she was even diagnosed, but her dying just made me realise that it’s a possibility. She’s dead, and I could be too. I don’t fear death. I don’t fear what comes after it. I don’t believe in heaven or hell, or an afterlife of any kind. I know what I’d be getting myself into, but I don’t want to do it during the pandemic.

I can’t quite figure out why.

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Sad and Mad/Mad and Sad

by DovaKitten
written by DovaKitten

I’ve been thinking about things that have happened to me a lot lately, and I have realised that I am stranded, stuck, lost, alone in this world now.

My parents, as much as I love them dearly, have no idea about what I’ve been through, and wouldn’t (couldn’t) understand if they did.

My friends don’t understand why I am not the same, why I am not the old me. They have noticed that I am not miraculously better, even after being given time and space.

The only one who does know, is the one that left me like this, and they don’t care. They just went back to their life, to their family, to their friends and just cast me aside.

I don’t know if the fact that they can all go about their lives being the same, being steady, being them, makes me mad or sad.

Probably both.

Yeah, it’s both.

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Shattered Life

by BrokenNSad
written by BrokenNSad

Hello. I randomly stumbled across this site. Maybe it can help or maybe it its a waste of time. who knows, but here goes nothing.

I am a 30 year old African American male in Columbus Ohio. I recently moved back after my mother passed last month. It has been very devastating to me physically, emotionally, and psychologically (like death usually is from my understanding). I cant sleep well, I have to force myself to eat, and many days I dont even want to get out of bed. This stems from so much in my life while on the outside looks as though I’ve achieved much, I feel like a fraud and a failure. I quit my job in NY once Covid happened since I was so miserable. Every day was like waking up in another nightmare to go to work. I made great accomplishments there, made “friends”, became a mentor for the firm’s prestigious internships in the country, lead a team unofficially, and generally had admiration, respect, and power. Once things outside of my control, I lost all of it and was essentially seen as yet another grunt once again. However, even at the peak of my career, I was completely unhappy. Sure I had friends, but I had no one to talk to about what really was bothering me: my lack of a significant other, my lack of life’s purpose, and the recurring nightmare I had about my mother since moving to NY. I am a gay black man who doesnt subscribe to your typical LBGTQ+ culture. I tend to see things differently, and it kept/keeps me ostracized from  everyone. What also didnt help was fearing for rejection simply because of my skin color or having someone only like me for it. I know love takes a long time to develop, but it would have been a huge help to have someone that I could share all of my struggles with intimately as they do the same with me. I see many gay couples who are just so happy either married or have boyfriends and it pains me so much that I dont have the same. Even my straight friends have someone in their lives like that if they’re not parents. I tried to write it off as “it will come eventually” or “it will come when you stop searching” or whatever else they say about finding love; however, the pain of loneliness just kept getting to me. Feeling like I had nothing, no one to take those random walks outside with, no one to share the stupid moments with (the ones where you just do things just because that serve no real purpose). Obviously holidays were the worst so I cut off my social media so I didnt have to see it from others who were happy. It broke me mentally as I that surely by now I would at least meet one guy that I could be happy with. Even at work, everyone kept speaking of their wonderful families and children and whatnot. I buried that pain inward and tried to be strong. I buried myself in my work and alcohol as an excuse for not having a personal life with anyone. I had even contemplated suicide partially because of it. Regardless of where I went to socialize and mingle with new people (bars, clubs, museums, theaters, botanical gardens, you name it) there was not one person who was single and emotionally available to date. Everyone had boyfriends, was married, or wanted someone that knew just as much about Broadway and Drag Race as they did. It shattered me so much that I lost my passion. I lost my will to even care about my own life. Sure I had friends to talk to, but they can only help so much. I spoke to quite a few therapists and pastors and they werent of any help or use. Then I came to the realization that maybe I need to find my passion in life. But im 30! How on earth am I supposed to just find my passion when 1) I have to work all the time, 2) I’m so tired after work that I just want to go home and sleep/drink, and 3) it costs money that I dont have. I tried a few different things such as exercising, changing my wardrobe, giving myself affirmations, telling myself that I’m a catch and I will find purpose in this life. I tried learning new skills such as programming and listening to new music I would never have thought of before, but none of it worked. I found myself so bored with it all. This in fact happens with every new thing I try: I end up getting so bored by it since I dont have a mentor or anyone to connect with about it. The things I do actually enjoy such as fighting games, comic books, and pro wrestling have all been riddled with things that made them unenjoyable to me anymore. I dont know how to go about finding my purpose in life. I tried meditation, going to church, praying, trying to go out into the world, and it left me soulless and dead inside. What pains me even more is that I see so many of my friends who had a mentor (whether it be a teacher, parent, coach, etc…) help them find their passion and purpose in life and I wanted that for myself. Everything I and my mother have (since it was a single parent/only child situation) we earned so without any real passion for what were doing. It didnt make us want to wake up in the morning, like every day was just counting down until the day we died. Nothing really meant anything. And now that my mother is gone, I have no hope, will, passion, love, career, or even desire to live. What makes matters worse is that I fear for my life every day now being a black man in America with the racial tension and whatnot and I cant even confide in my mother or ask her guidance (not that she would have known really what to say either). Every day since her passing, I’ve felt rage, emptiness, anger, loneliness, fear, and despair. Like I said, I have friends, but they can only help so much, especially if I envy how their talents have served them well and being my age while mine have just gotten me a meaningless career. I feel like my entire life is just a big joke. I renounced my faith in Christianity since I could no longer take “it will happen one day” or “God works in mysterious ways” or some other preached excuse for why life is horrible for me seemingly but great for others. I dont even have anything to be thankful for (and no being alive isnt enough, whats the point of life if you’re not doing something with it or dont even have a purpose?). Somedays I am jealous of those less fortunate than me since they can be content with doing what they have to do getting through the day. I had dreams of attaining power and status through my gifts (whatever those are), but I have no one behind me. The only person I did was my mother, though she did what she could, she never had the answer for me. Ive interacted with people from all walks of life and no one could help me. I’ve seen therapists, counselors, pastors, and no one has any useful advice for me, which leaves me feeling like God wants me to figure everything out myself. I even prayed to Him every day for 30 years, read my bible, went to church when I could, and still nothing. Meditation didnt work. Volunteering only left me angry that I was helping someone else but no one could help me despite my pleas. With my mother gone, I feel all alone in this world, like no one truly cares about me. Which goes back to why Im so sad I dont have a significant other. Sure, my friends are there for me, but they cant be there 24/7 or even a large majority of the time, and I try not to be a burden to them. I have to stand on my own two feet, but I dont even know how to stand. The thoughts of depression and suicide constantly course through my mind. Things I once enjoyed I dont anymore.

Sorry if this is long, but I had no where else to go with this. It was on my heart and I wanted to get it off my chest. I just feel so broken, shattered, and hopeless. Im afraid I’ll go these next few years to be old and never find the answers I’m looking for

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GeneralRantsStories of Loss

Doomed

by sadspock
written by sadspock

[rant alert]

I’m unlucky. I can’t even begin to say how unlucky I’m. Maybe I just fuck myself up, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m fucked. I’ve nothing. I would top the school back-to-back in the mid-tests and mid-exams, but then my body would randomly decide to put my life in danger during RE/TEE. I had acute health complications, both physical and mental. I survived Varicella in grade 10 and Enteric flu in grade 12. I had only 30% attendance. Although, I still managed to score 97% (with two 100/100) and 92% tho, I didn’t top the school. That sure was embarrassing — note: I live in India with prying relatives around. It was time for college. I was hoping to get into IITs or go overseas – wasn’t able to do ‘em both as I couldn’t take JEE and SAT/ACT since I was fucking hospitalised again. I could’ve waited a year or so, but I was already running late for I did my nursery classes twice as I was mute. Although I’m now into one of the top 5 private universities of India (NIRF), it doesn’t really make me feel good. Oh, I also fucked up my college – consecutively fucking up my career. Same yada yada, I was a topper and a 9 pointer in 4/6 semesters yet, but my mental health got fucked real bad in the mid that I had to be immediately put in a psych ward. Well, that’s how I ended up with 8 backlogs by not attending the Winter 2018-2019 classes and exams. Upshot, I’ll be a timed-out student ‘cause of my arrears. I can’t as well clear ‘em on time for I hardly have only two semesters left, and unlike other universities here, our university requires us to redo the N grade courses for an entire fucking semester again by paying 6K/course. I thought I’d complete those due credits in the Summer I and II 2020 classes if they offered the courses I’ve N2 (<75% attendance) and N3 (absent to FAT) grades in, but thanks to Corona! No way I’d be there at the 2022 graduation ceremony. No way at all. Unlucky. So fucking unlucky. So, yes… timed-out and no on-campus placements for me. Surprise, mom – The 13-15L you spent on my useless degree is for naught, and your child is a stupid piece of shit, but you already know this. One may argue that marks don’t matter. Well, they sure don’t — but I was only good at one thing, and that was academics. I failed there as well. I’m not jealous, but the people that I helped with almost everything related to academics are way beyond me in life now. They’re all successful. Good for ‘em. But… don’t you think what’s happening to me is downright unfair? I’m just a waste of space, have always been. Everything has gone wrong in my life. Everything still goes wrong. I was born with (neonatal) Jaundice. Cerebral Palsy, Kernicterus, and DEATH were in order. They should’ve fucking let me die but no. 21 years later, death is still playing me. Still alive after all. Why? I don’t know. I want to die.

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RantsStories of Loss

(TW; mention of covid, politic’s bs, murder, sexual abuse) Hi, long time no visit

by mranony
written by mranony

The world as of now is in chaos.
And my country is being run by crocodiles.
Politicians threatening lab workers to do 2-3 test even though they’re asymptomatic and negative of the virus.
All the while, citizens who has symptoms has been dropping like flies.
People got arrested or gunned down.
Government labeling University students as terrorists for doubting the system.
Influencial people defending and admitting to sexual abuses.
And half a fandom who wants a child dead. Fictional or not. That’s fucked up.

I know what I put down is heavy. I don’t know where else to put down my demise.

I’m just very sad about it.

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Ember and Cinder

by Lacey D
written by Lacey D

I love fostering cats. Mostly kittens. A few months ago, I was taking care of a litter of six with their mom. The mom was great, took care of her kitties, and was super sweet. But she was in a hoarder home (specifically the mom because the kittens weren’t born there). I ended up getting sent to a hospital. But it turns out, the mom had some parasite from before. It killed one of the kittens. My mom in her eternal wisdom decided to wait a week before telling me. Because why would I care if a six week kitten that I’d loved since birth was dead? You know, just weird stuff like that.
She was afraid of how I’d react. She brought hot chocolate too, to soften the blow. And then she was all confused when I got mad at her.
The dead kitten’s name was Ember. She looked just like her mom, and she was so freaking loud. She meowed all the time. A couple weeks later, her brother Cinder died. He was gray and had a super short tail, and he never meowed. At least mom told me that time instead of trying to spare my feelings.

 

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GeneralRantsStories of Loss

stay

by chxice
written by chxice

it wasn’t fair. how you got to move on and I’m stuck here trying to get over your ass. its not fair how once, we talked about our future and now we barely talk at all. how i poured my heart for you and you refuse to notice my pleas… its not fair that i try to fall in love with someone else but you. are. always. there. i miss your hugs and your voice and your warm brown eyes. it was a short amount of time that i fell deep into the abyss of your heart. i fucking love u and i hate myself fo that.
every time i see you i want to cry. all of my friends tell me “you deserve better” or “you shouldn’t waste time on him” or “you too good for him”. it doesn’t matter how many times you tell me these things. i still put on a fake smile so everyone things I’m okay. I’m sorry I’m fucked up and that i was too much for you. i just wish i was enough for you to stay.

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Family & Friends EffectsGeneralMy Suicide NoteStories of Loss

The Tunnel

by fallencrescendo
written by fallencrescendo

In the state if Arizona, there is a tunnel known to grant you wishes. If you drive through it, hold your breath until the end, you can make a wish and only hope it to come true. When I was younger, I’d always wish for a bike, finding my soulmate, or a house, camera, etc.

When I was 12, my wishes started to change. I had started wishing for a permanent home to stay, for someone in my family to show me love, for me to be happy; I gave up on that quickly as things were always getting worse. So I  started wishing for my death. I wished I would become diagnosed with a terminal illness, for a Semi to strike me while in the car, for someone to walk up and shoot me in the head. It seems dark, but I’m assuming for this site, it could also just seem amateur or ridiculous because there is always someone out there that wants to tear you down no matter the cause.

People always spoke to me when I would open up to them and they would all give me the “It gets better” speech. What they never tell you, and no one will because they have to remain optimistic for your sake, is that for some others: It does not get better. Then they proceed to tell you that you must hit rock bottom because the only way is up from there. I don’t think they understand what rock bottom could mean for some people.

Anyways, this isn’t about them. It’s not about anyone. This is about me and what led me to my decisions.

Today I sit alone in a hotel room located at one of my favorite places in the world: Sedona, Arizona. It’s so peaceful and quiet here. I knew this is where I wanted to be to take my final breath. Although, I did invite 3 people to come with and stay with me. No takers. Made this decision easier. No one has even reached out to me while I’ve been here. I even confessed to a friend I was planning on suicide at this hotel and yet, I’m still all alone.

In summary, my mom was verbally/mentally/physically abusive. She was also very manipulative. She would often have sex with me sleeping on the bed with her and the new guy of the year. Same with my siblings; we’d sleep on the floor while she’d be on the bed making a lot of noise in the middle of the night while we had to wake up for school the next morning.  She would beat me due to her temper and patience. While she would help me study with flash cards, if I got an answer wrong, she would scream at me; call me an idiot, say she was disappointed, and then throw the cards off the tablet, slap me/pinch me and would tell me to figure it out. If she had a reason to beat me, she would be sure to grab the metal hanger, not the plastic. She would be sure to grab the belt that was studded. She would be sure to buy me clothes to cover up the marks and bruises. She would make me take care of my baby brothers, change their diapers, feed them, put them to sleep because she simply didn’t want to; I was 11 at the time. We moved every year depending on who she was fucking at the time. For a while I would stay with others and they just neglected me because they hated my mom and wanted nothing to do with me either. We hadn’t spoke in years until she had a stroke a couple of years ago. Then she wanted to speak to me, try and be kind, but really she just wanted to collect pity. I attempted to drop contact with her until I got a phone call from a collection agency stating she stole my identity and owed money for unpaid bills. When I confronted her about it, she told me to go fuck myself. Mother dearest…

My father was never there unless he needed to remind himself that he was a father to 6 estranged kids. He was a typical dad. Neglected his children so he can run off and do drugs and fuck whomever he wanted.  He went to prison for 5 years because of it. He reached out to me, attempting reconcile our relationship. I gave him a chance and he ended up neglecting me for some woman he had just met and thereafter wanted nothing to with me until later. He attempted to contact me again and I refused. He then proceeded to threaten me and say he would die soon due to high blood pressure and for that I should show more respect. I followed in my mothers footsteps and told him to fuck off. My mother threatened me last year similarly when she had a stroke. They both got a close taste to death and they finally noticed me… They wanted to speak to me because in all honesty, they were lonely bitter people and they needed one person to soak up sympathy from. Father dearest.

When I was 20, I met the love of my life. We moved across the country and were head over heels in love. We hardly ever argued, we showed each other such an immense amount of affection, and we spoke about the future we could create for ourselves. He made me believe that I deserved loved for the first time in my life. I felt loved and cared for. He was there for me every step of the way, including on my bad days when I would struggle with my mental health. He was my best friend. Some of the things I miss and remember most: When I would wake up and see him lying next to me. Messing around to the point where we would wrestle each other and laugh our heads off. The days when we would be at war with our Nerf guns. Movie nights after work and cuddles on the couch. Listening to music in the car and singing to the top of our lungs. Getting into bed at night and having him always hold my hand until he fell asleep. Kisses on the forehead. Taking off my hat and running his fingers through my hair even though I was insecure about the psoriasis on my scalp. Calling me beautiful on days I didn’t feel like it. Cooking dinner creations while dancing in the kitchen to music. Holding each other in the shower after a hard day at work. His eyes. The way his cheeks got red in the cold. His crooked smile. I believed him to be the soulmate I asked for in that tunnel. The happiness I had always wished for, my forever home. We talked about getting married,  having kids and living in a house close to the mountains.

Then my mental illness got in the way… I sabotaged our relationship due to my insecurities. After 4 and a half years, we decided to separate to work on ourselves for a while until we could be together again. Although it didn’t work that way. One day before I moved back home, we saw each other again to catch up and say goodbye. He told me that he planned on proposing to me at this spot we traveled to when we moved to Washington state. It was a beautiful spot, the mountain was full of fall colors, leaves all over the ground, the lake flowing towards the cascades and just a waterfall about 10 feet away. It was perfect. But he moved on… quickly. He slept with women a month after our split. He also met someone else and is now starting a life with her not even a year after we split. They look happy… He messaged me and told me he was over me and no longer interested and then blocked me on all social platforms. Lover dearest.

Love is fucking weird. I’ve never felt it so passionately only to have it pulled out from underneath my feet like that. I was never deserving of it and that proved it for me. It may seems silly to you all, you’re probably rolling your eyes, but with my personal experiences and what I have gone through growing up, that was my beacon of light. He was my light and he not only smashed the glass, but he took out the bulb and shattered the glass to dust so there was no opportunity of bringing it back to repair. And I still miss him… I still try to glue the pieces I can find to put it back together but it never turns out right. He was my best friend… he was the love of my life. My soulmate. I knew it. I just did. I felt it in my heart. He treated me so kindly and loved me in ways I never knew existed. And I fucked it up! I fucked it up. I fucked it all up.

No mother. No father. No love. No friends. No family. And not a care. Neglected. Rejected. Abandoned. Abused. Broken.

I tried. I tried so hard to survive. I can no longer. It’s time.

You know, I wanted to be a singer all my life. An artist, but I was always told it was a waste of time. I still would sing because if I didn’t, my soul would brittle. I leave today listening to one of my favorite artists of all time: Otis Redding. Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay. One of the last recordings he made before leaving this world tragically at the age of 26, same as me. I hope to see him on the other side and duet with him. That’s what I would like to think…

I wish you all the best. Thank you for taking the time to read my very summed up story about my life. Ever since I entered that tunnel, I had always wished for this very thing. Death. And I will finally make it come true today. Just know I wanted this ever since I was a kid. Things overall: Did not get better. And that’s okay.

It’s okay.

Signing off….

-A.R.C

 

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