I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like an idiot but I’m honestly hanging by a thread and at this point I’m just looking for some sign that this isn’t all pointless and that I’m actually going to be okay. Everybody has told me it’ll get better for years. It’s only gotten worse and worse so I feel desperate and stupid. I hate depression. I’m so tired of being in pain every day from something I can’t even control. It physically hurts my heart at this point, it’s so powerful. I just want it to stop. What’s the point in any of this? I’ll never be anything worthwhile so I’m honestly just wasting space on earth. Please make it stop.
I ain’t living long like this. No one or nothing could help me. It’s been a decade, nothing yet. There are holes in the floor of my mind, like those in a medieval dungeon floor — Making it difficult for me to crawl back up from the pit. I feel worse than numb. The medicines only fucked me up real bad. I can’t even begin to talk about them for I’ll have to pen an entire fucking essay on it. Bruh. Oh, the ECT made me lose my fucking memory. Sure, it did help me with my severe mania episodes, but it worsened my OCD and anxiety. And Ketamine Infusion Therapy sounded cool, but ‘twas only momentary. Nothing helped. Nothing helps. Constant panic attacks and PTSD episodes over trivial matters. I’m depressed. I’m paranoid. I’m neurotic. What-fucking-not. One of my most favourite fictional characters, Dr. Hannibal Lecter says, “If you weren’t neurotic, Franklyn, you’d be much worse.” Well, guess what? I’m much fucking worse already! There’s no point beyond this. It’s said —
People who have psychotic episodes are often unaware that their delusions or hallucinations are not real, which may lead them to feel frightened or distressed.
Well, I wasn’t aware as well and was in complete denial about it. But now I am. I’m psychotic as fuck. Psychosis sucks. It’s morbidly awful. My psychiatrists were right after all. I may sound dumb, but why aren’t there methods to legally kill a person like me and ease the pain if the person involved consents to it? Why do we value a human’s life so fucking much? Ugh. Kill me already! I tried killing myself more than thrice, but joke’s on me; I’m a fucking loser! If I could, I would hire a hitman to kill me. I just… I want to go home. I want to die.
My tests say that I show extreme Alexithymia traits. Is that actually a thing? I don’t know. I don’t care about/for anyone. I just don’t give a fuck. I’m an awful person to even begin with. If you showed me a video of a child getting sawed, I’d stand stock-still. But if you showed me a video of an animal being abused, I’d flinch at a stroke. I don’t fucking understand myself. I hate humans. You could come to me crying, and I’d ask you to just fuck it and nothing more. I can’t help you with your emotional needs ‘cause I don’t relate. I haven’t truly loved anyone in all my life, and that’s just scary. I’m more in my head than in my heart. I don’t know if this is a boon or a bane. It’s like a two-edged sword, really. It’s just sad. Imagine ending up all alone because of this attribute… I don’t have a problem with that, but it’s funny I can’t have the normal things that normal people have. Can you believe that I’ve never felt butterflies in my stomach? I can never be okay.
They say tHe mEaNinG oF liFe iS lOvE, but what’s the meaning of my life when I don’t even love myself?
I don’t wanna fucking live anymore. I hope there’s no afterlife. I just want to die, and that is fucking it. If there was another realm or anything of the sort, I’d seriously be more fucked up than I’m now ‘cause I think the problem is not just with my body and my mind, but also with my soul – if there is any. I feel like some evil maggot has drilled a hole so deep in my skull that it is controlling every fucking thing that’s me. I just wanna be gone. Forever. I wanna die, and I don’t give a fuck about anyone. I don’t love anyone. I just can’t. Wait, it’s not what it seems like. I don’t want to die ‘cause I’m lonely or some shit like that. Not even close. I’ve people that actually love me bat-crazy, but I don’t give a solitary fuck about any of ‘em. Sure, I’ve helped ‘em with academics and still do, but that’s only ‘cause I’m condescending – Not because I like any of ‘em back. Heck, I don’t even reply to their messages most of the time. I’ve ignored everyone around me for almost a decade now. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they all hated me to the bone now. It’s understandable. I mean, who the fuck puts up with a shitty friend like me for years? It’s actually okay for I don’t seem to care even a tad. Anyway, I was the most successful kid at school. I was the consecutive topper for a decade. I was teachers’ favourite. Though I hated it, I was always surrounded by friends back in the days. I had the coolest of things; thanks to my mum! I was never bullied. I was never humiliated. I had a good run. Everything was A-OK except the fact that I could never be happy, no matter what. Nothing fucking mattered, and nothing matters. I can’t enjoy the things that normal people enjoy. Maybe I just never intended to try ‘em out? I don’t know. I’m 21 now. I never danced, never partied, never smoked, never had sex. Nothing really. I guess it’s just the way I’m. It’s not rocket science. Shit’s simple – I’m fucked up beyond repair. That is all it is. Mind you, I’m the shittiest person you’ll ever meet. I’m not even kidding. I don’t hate anyone more than I hate myself. I wanna go. I really wanna.
I OD’d on my psychotropic (/psychiatric) pills in 2019. ‘Twas a heavy overdose and my pills were strong and of very high dosages. I was naturally almost sure that I’d wind up dead. But guess what? I woke up in the morning. Not in a good state at all, but I awoke. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t utter a solitary word. Hell, I couldn’t even see things. I was cold. I’ve a long history of mental illnesses – BD (+ Psychosis — Schizoaffective disorder) and various PDs, so my folks figured out that I must’ve once again yanked some suicidal sh_t when I didn’t answer their calls. I guess they must’ve checked the locked medicine cabinet to find out that the pills were missing from it, and the lock was picked. They stormed into my room only to see me half-alive, half-dead. I was soon rushed to the emergency room. Gastric lavage was carried out. Ewald tubes were let down my entrails. Cannulas and tubes all over – IV and NG tubes. Oh, did I mention fecal incontinence? Pathetic. That was a nightmare. That really was. I’ve pulled through seizures, tremors, and H(a)ematemesis. You might be wondering why I pulled it again. Right? Well, I was so f_cking desperate, and I was actually dumb enough to redo it. I was that desperate to die. I still am. But only now, I’ve learnt the lesson that overdosing on your pills isn’t a cool way to go. It’s painful. It’s humiliating. It’s hardly successful.
Right to die must be a thing. Assisted suicide must be a thing. (Update: Heard from a Swiss friend of mine that it’s actually a thing in Switzerland — Exit, Dignitas presumably offer the services… Why not here?) I know when my mind and body can take no more. I know how it feels to be so mentally f_cked when nothing actually is wrong in your life (or is everything?). I’m convinced that killing myself will be the kindest thing I can ever do to myself. So, I will not stop you with the lame a_s TED talks. However, do not overdose on your psychiatric pills… or try to slit your ulnar or radial arteries, please. I’ve around 30+ sutures on just my left arm, and I’m still alive. Over-the-counter P500/P650s OD in 2017, and I’m still alive — N-AC treatment. Sucks. Maybe I’m just a loser, but that’s for another post! Good day(?)
Dying is the kindest thing I can do for myself. I don’t particularly want to, sometimes I wonder if I really was a terrible person, I should stay alive. It’s brutal, and the perfect punishment. I know I can do things with my life. I don’t think low of myself usually, I just am who I am. I’m pretty resourceful, I can make things work. Which is why I’m thinking about this. I can make it work, this is the kindest thing I can do!
I’ve never met someone with the same life story as me. Someone who’s had so many unrelated horrors happen. It makes sense and yes I must just have terrible luck, but I’ve only met people with parts of the story, not all of it. Why? One way or another, they didn’t make it. Dead somehow. Because life will just get worse. If I don’t do this, someone else will. I don’t want to die afraid, no one will care but me, but I don’t want to. I want to make sure my cat makes it to the right place, she’s mean, no one will adopt her and she’s getting older and doesn’t deserve to be randomly put in a strange place. Assuming someone got into my apartment soon enough…
I haven’t figured out what’s wrong with me to encourage really normal people to hurt me. Why so many people will attack/assault me. It’s not like I didn’t learn, it’s not like I’m passive, either. I have a voice, I have muscle. Never mattered. I know it will happen again… people tell me this stuff isn’t my fault and no one will tell me if there’s something that encourages others to steal everything from me. Like… okay. So I can’t stop this? I don’t want anyone to experience this, most importantly, myself. Why should I stay somewhere where I will be victim to insane violence? Do we not tell people who are in abusive relationships to leave? This is just life for me. Why can’t anyone see it’s an act of utmost self respect and love? The kindness? To be in charge of a peaceful passing, knowing everything will be taken care of, knowing I will be safe.
Hello, I see that this is a site where people share how sad they are and there are some helpful people out there. I hope I can get some nice feedback from others. I want to start off by saying that I am 21 years old. My grandma had passed away and it took a big toll on me. My family too of course, but for me I wanted to die. Ive attempted to kill myself and this sweet genuine old lady passed away and in my eyes it wasn’t her time to go. It honestly should’ve been me. Recently I’ve been kicked out of my house by my parents due to a big fight that went on. To sum that up, it was built up sadness and anger that took over me and I just blew it all at them which ended up me getting kicked out. Most of it was towards my mom..So now, I live with my grandpa. I don’t like living here very much but I got to bring along my dog who I see as my literal life line. He’s honestly my best friend. I never had a good relationship with my mom, I really feel like we always were together so much and it kind of bothered me? Because we never actually got to have a good time, we just always fought even over the littlest things. I was also diagnosed with depression a longtime ago. I overdosed in the summer of 2018 on Benadryl because I was ready to die. It feels like nobody cares about me. That feeling has never left. Not one time.When I overdosed all I got was my family yelling at me. Nothing but them telling me how dumb I am and how selfish I was for trying to kill myself. It made me feel worse and to this day I think about what they said and it makes me feel bad still. I developed a disorder called TTM, also known as Trichotillomania. This developed when I was around 7 years old. Its a hair pulling disorder which causes you go to bald depending how severe your disorder is. Its went away for around middle school and my high school years but unfortunately, it has gotten worse for me AGAIN. When im sad I seem to do it and I only pull the hair from my head so I have such bad scaring and a sensitive scalp because of it. I feel ugly, and seeing my bald spots make me feel uglier. You’d think I’d want to stop but I can’t. Sometimes I don’t even know im pulling until its too late and I have such a big clump of hair next to me. It hurts to see it but I just feel helpless. I get told to take my medicine which I am now taking Fluoxetine, and I feel it doesn’t do much. I get told to up my dosage but that doesn’t seem to do anything for me either, I really have no hope in doing anything. My mom has repeatedly told me that I “wouldn’t be so sad” had I taken my medicine every singled. I PROMISE you, I have and It has not helped me. Ive switched to many different anti depressants and the one that was super effective but in a negative was was Duloxetine. It made me feel no emotion and I was just tired all of the time. Now im back on Fluoxetine and it doesn’t help me either. I’m just so sad and I don’t know what to do anymore. I get yelled at for going out to walk my dog, get yelled at if I go get food for just my dog or just myself, and the people I live with just always want me to bring them stuff when im not able to buy 3 other people things all the time in the household. Ive been saving my money up to get a new place but it always gets depleted because they find a way to make me feel so bad about not spending money on them and its making me even more sad because I feel like just stuck. I started to cut myself again and I want to hurt myself so damn badly and I can feel myself everyday wanting to hurt myself again. I need help but im afraid to be sent away. I’m honestly really at my wits end. I’m about to overdose again. And the only person that I know will care is my dog. It hurts that I don’t want to leave him but I feel like I’m not going to get anywhere with how im feeling. I’m sorry that what I wrote was a lot
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.
idk whats wrong with me. no matter what i do nothing is good enough. I have a d in calc and im questioning gender again and march 15 is coming up. i planned to die two years ago on that day and fuck. everything hurts and i wanna relapse and i’ve lost all motivation to stay clean or do anything and fuck. i just want everything to be over.
One thousand, one hundred and fifteen days have gone by since we discovered you were no longer a part of this universe, our universe. It has gotten easier to process but it’s still not easy. The shock of it never ceases. It is still surreal. How can I summarize in words the cluster of pain we feel everyday given your absence? Let’s see. The reality that you are missing and missed our daughter and son’s 16th birthdays, his phenomenal culinary skills, his dream of becoming a chef and his fascination with living in Japan someday, our daughter’s early high school graduation, 18th birthday, first year of college and her being on the honor roll with a 3.81 GPA and her extraordinary producing and deejaying talents, is saddening. The reality that you will not be present for other monumental moments in their lives such as college graduations, weddings, births is even more heartbreaking. The thought that our beautiful daughter and handsome son haven’t had a male role model since you left, causes tears to well in my eyes almost every single day. When our son comes to me asking questions only a man can authentically answer, I do my best to fill your shoes but I shouldn’t have to. When our daughter tells me that a young man she’s dating reminds her of you in the way he protects her, it’s bittersweet. Bitter for obvious reasons and sweet because she at least has someone who, for that moment, is a positive reminder of you. You left us to pick up a million shattered pieces. You left me to raise two human beings that we created together, on my own and it hasn’t always been a breathtakingly gorgeous emotional walk in the park. There have been and will be countless nights I shut myself in and weep silently in my pillow so not to cast any more of a crushing burden on our children. Why couldn’t you have been strong enough to pull through the rough times? Why couldn’t you have in the darkest of hours, seen their four impressionable eyes staring back at you, counting on you to be the protector as you’d always been? Where did the tragic turn in the journey begin and ultimately end? Why did you let go of this thing called life? Was there something I could have done or, anyone for that matter, to change your mind? Is it unfair of me to call you weak, curse your ashes and regret the day I met you? Absolutely because obviously, you felt an indescribable hopelessness in which I simply cannot fathom. This tragedy has taught me, albeit a process, not to project so much but to lead with compassion, understanding and empathy. One never knows how rough someone’s terrain is until they too walk on that very terrain in that someone’s shoes. Just because there’s a smile on someone’s face doesn’t always mean their spirit shares that very sentiment. Who am I to judge you? Will I still have my moments of anger, sadness, confusion and a whole bunch of feelings and emotions I sometimes choose not to control just so I can allow myself to feel organically, versus distract myself and become numb? The answer is a resounding yes. I’m human and I’ll always wish you were here to see our babies, who are now young adults. Watching them triumphantly maneuver through this cold world we live carrying the legacy of you not being here on their backs, assures me they are resilient and in time, they will be just fine. They are truly champions and my hero and heroine. I cannot help but acknowledge and credit you though for most of what you instilled in them during the brief time you had in their world, which contributed to the stand up and strong human beings that they are. Thank you for that because outside of God’s love, those very attributes are the things that have enabled them to keep moving forward and upward, even when the light is so dim at the end of the tunnel. Not a day goes by in which we don’t share a story and/or a laugh about you and despite it all, you are terribly missed. I know that it will never be easy but each day, it will get easier. Continue to rest in peace.
Hi guys, I finished ‘My heart and other black holes’ a few minutes ago. I was reading it second time. Why? Because I feel so bad. I know that I have a lot of mental health problems… yeah… who haven’t here… but sometimes is worse. You know this time in your life (day, week, month) when you feel worse. Worse than normal. I don’t know what I want to say in this post. Maybe I need some space to write about my feelings. I study abroad in London from September. That was my dream, this is my dream. I had been thinking about it since primary school and now I am here. I should be happy propably, yeah… but I am not, not at all (and sorry my English sometimes sucks but I try my best okay xD). I am on good Uni, I have friends (here not many but I have not problem with meeting new people and I have a lot of friends from my country so we can write on Messenger all the time), I like my body/face/apparence, I have a lot of plans for my future- I know what I want to be. So why I am not satisfied? Why I feel so blue? I cry and think about comitte suicide a lot. But I don’t wanna die. Because if I die I won’t be able to realize my plans. I’ll never be satisfied.
I’ve pushed many people away. Maybe I can end it and no one would care. Maybe this is a cry for help, or me ranting. Either way, I hope this pain will stop.
You also must be ‘smart’ especially in terms of knowing how to make money. And often times, that also means you also have to be opportunistic, follow the system & rules (just like everybody else), even be cunning, sly, ruthless, brash, full of tricks, greedy, selfish, ready to step on other people who are ‘weaker’ (eg: poorer, etc).
Money is everything in our modern society today, unfortunately. It’s all about money nowadays. And if you can’t beat the system, then you have to join them. Everyday you are forced to survive, or for survival. And if you’re not strong enough to follow the system/rules, then too bad, either you will lose, get left out, get sidelined, trampled, kicked in a dirt, become a loser or failure in society, or you will die because you can’t survive.
Maybe life is just not for everyone. Maybe some of us are not meant to live in this world, society, existence, or whatever it is. Maybe it’s all really random and nihilistic, ie: some will live, and some will die. Just like ants, some will survive, and some will be killed, can’t survive, got unfortunate/bad luck, and die.
Life is depressing. Society is depressing. This world is depressing. Even all this whole existence thing is just depressing, mundane/boring, very limiting, sick, pointless/meaningless (for some people who really realize it), and honestly, everything is just so stupid.
In the midst of another outbreak of depression, I found this website through the magical wonder that is Google Chrome. Apparently, searching terms idly such as, “can i just die” and, “does my life matter” actually aren’t completely useless. Let’s start with some basics. My name is Adam. I am 15 years old as of writing this. My mother passed away due to complications regarding lung cancer about a year and a half ago, leaving my already dysfunctional family fractured in an injury that seems beyond healing. I struggle with severe social anxiety, which I believe to contribute a great deal to my depression. Anyways, here I am, ready to spill my heart and ideas out to a bunch of strangers around the world.
Writing this, I find my decision to even share this with anyone, much less people I don’t know on the internet, slightly odd. In thinking about that, I realize just how attention-starved I must be. After all, the only people in my life that seem to even remotely understand the position I’m in are the people who are paid to do so. Man, that’s a depressing thought. My father works all day, my brothers are in a constant state of distraction to avoid their problems, and my peers are too busy beating themselves up about having A-’s in one class. (I live in a predominantly wealthy Asian town in the Bay Area) In that case, writing this doesn’t feel too stupid. After all, you and I share something no? A bond over suffering, pain, and perhaps some trauma. With that in mind, I don’t wish for practical and literal things from people anymore. All I ask is for people to take the time to understand me, in which I am always left short. Maybe that’s why I’m here.
In my opinion, when viewed from a completely “rational” point of view, life is simply not worth living. It is my belief that even your average Joe will suffer far more than he experiences positivity and pleasure. From a mathematical perspective, negatives cancel out positives. If the end result is negative, then why live? Depression may seem like a corner that you’re trapped in, unable to experience happiness and positivity because there is none right?! Well I disagree with that. Depression distorts your perspective, making you interpret even the positive things as negative. If I were to grow older and survive the violence that I perceive to be adulthood, my goal would be to find a way to live with the ludicrousness that is society. This is in stark contrast to what I believe most people do; throw a bunch of shit on top of the wounds and hope they heal, or stay underneath all that shit so that that they don’t even realize the wound exists.
When searching random shit on Google for the 800th time, I happened upon an article attempting to reach out to people actively considering suicide. Out of curiosity, I read the article. One of it’s most facinating arguments was the idea that, “People consider suicide for relief from pain. Relief is a feeling, one you have to be alive to experience.” Have you ever told yourself or a trusted individual that, “I want to die, but I don’t want to kill myself.” That reality is one that keeps me alive everyday, somehow. Now is that my body biologically telling my brain that it wants to live, or is it something greater? I believe the latter. If you’re reading this, think about it. No matter where you are, what you’ve done, or how you feel, there has to be a future with a positive outcome right? For me at least, I’ve come to realize that I’m not as screwed in life as I would believe I was. Though I am far into a dark tunnel, the faint hints of light at the end begin to shine through in some of my better moments during each day. However, that alone won’t ease my mind. When everyday contains a similar struggle, seeing point B from point A won’t help you get to B. There are still many days between me and that moment.
With that in mind, I frequently ask myself, “Why?” Why should I keep fighting this war that I didn’t start? Why should I persevere? That is what drives the idea that suicide is even a remotely plausible option. Why continue? When life is pain, why keep going? For me, I’m still here because the idea of a light at the end of a tunnel, though not necessarily confirmed to exist, entices me to continue living. To cling on to life.
If you’re still here, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to hear what I have to say.
The thing is, my whole family’s depressed, and has always been depressed, for as long as I can remember. It’s just that I can force myself to function more or less to the standards of the outside world, where they don’t. I can drag myself to work, I can take a shower if it’s a weekday (and I have to go to work). I can slap on a smile and strike up a conversation. Sure, I can’t do anything else–can’t buy food for myself, eat, cut my hair, clean, read, pursue a hobby, buy a phone, or do anything other than shut down and become near-catatonic when I shut the door to my apartment in the evening. It’s not just the misery, but how the misery puts a fog over my brain so I can’t properly think about anything in the way I know I’m supposed to be able to. It’s how I’m more and more frequently gripped by a heart-stopping panic that makes me want to run for my life, stop sleeping, die. And yet, even through all of this, my family and coworkers think I’m just fine and well adjusted–of course they do, because all society at large really cares for is how smooth a cog you can be in the fucking capitalism machine. I can do my job. Only my job. That’s all that matters, huh? I can’t possibly be doing at all bad like my older brother still flunking through his classes in college, or my unemployed/barely employed parents. I have a paycheck!
to say i’m stressed would be an understatement.
these days have been so hectic, i feel like i can’t keep up with everything, but everyone is constantly telling me to keep up, to cheer up, to calm down, to just stop feeling stressed. mental health has been a mess lately, and today is just not working for me. sometimes i wish i caught a cold so i could rest in bed, but then i remember that even if i’m too ill to get out of bed, i’ll still have to do everything.
the problem isn’t having stuff to do, the problem is having to do things for everyone, and having to leave my things at the bottom of my list of things to do. there’s so much on my mind that i want to talk about, but everyone would most likely think i’m being annoying so i’ll keep it to myself.
i cried today while trying to turn on a fan and i haven’t eaten anything since 8am this morning, but nobody here gives a damn about that. i feel so tired, even though i sleep. it feels so crowded in my head, even though it’s just me. i don’t know what to do or how to cope, or anything honestly. who knows if i make it to December, i honestly feel like i’m going to explode soon.
i’ve felt pretty dizzy all day, and i think it’s because of stress, but i’m not sure.
anyways, i’ll shut up now.
I will consume you. I will completely take over your life. You’ll think you’re in control but really I will be. I’ll change the way you think about everything, the way you live. I will slowly destroy everything you once knew and loved. I will ruin your life until you don’t want it anymore. I’ve always been a winner, even when other people say you can beat me. You can’t. I will end you. Or you will end your life because you can’t live with me anymore. I’m too powerful for you to handle.
I am depression.
Living really takes it out of me. Just breathing, surviving another day. It requires so much effort.
Being alive is honestly the last thing that I want. I absolutely hate myself. I hate this world too. I can’t look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t have any talents and I am not attending school at the moment because I don’t have the energy (to deal with people’s shit and I don’t see the point in doing work because I am unable to take that work further due to my lack of skill and talent). I practise the things that used to ease my mind in the past, hoping for the same result but to no avail. I practise so much, and I never get any better. I often wonder what it must be like to be good at something, to fully enjoy something and to want to cling to life. There isn’t really much I can or want to do in this world.
It is quite an ugly place and certainly not a place I want to be in. I have never had a single true friend. My life has been made up of disappointments, betrayals and back-stabbers. Guess that’s where I get my extreme trust issues from.
I’m used to people using me as a stepping stone and then discarding me, it barely bothers me because I have learnt not to get attached, but at times, I do feel alone.
Everytime something hurts me, I am unable to recover. They just dig deeper and deeper into me, gourging out my insides and leaving me as a shell. I am unable to rebuild myself. Perhaps I’m weak, perhaps I’m just tired. It doesn’t matter though, nothing ever does to me.
I do not care what happens in this life. I have no goals, dreams or motivation. My only wish is to die. I have always felt like this and wrote my first suicide note when I was 6/7 years old.
I don’t remember what happiness feels like. I am not sure I have properly experienced it. Constantly, I feel empty, numb, emotionless. A sociopath you might say. Though, I do feel hate, anger and sadness.
My family wants me alive and try to keep me that way. They don’t want me to suffer. They don’t understand that forcing me to stay in this world is the thing making me suffer .
I have attempted suicide countless times, self-harm weekly and barely eat, all in hopes of leaving this world and destroying this hateful body.
Suicide may seem selfish but it is the only thing that I have ever wanted and my whole life has been living for others. Not willingly but being forced to. Because I didn’t want to prove the fact that I’m a failure, a disappointment and an expense.
But eventually, you get tired of giving. You can’t pour from an empty cup. You need to refill your glass before you can pour into other people’s.
But there is nothing to refill my glass. Nothing that I enjoy, or find a piece of hope in. There is nothing anchoring me in this world, making me want to stay.
And to be honest…I would rather have it that way. I want no part in this horrible, pitiful, ugly world with monsters wearing human skins and friendly faces.
One day (Hopefully very soon), I will be successful in taking my life and can leave this living hell.
My mind is like a maze.
Trying to think positive, but always go to the negatives.
I need to escape this pain, this hurt, these thoughts.
I’m in class, then boom…
It hits me, all of a sudden I want to die.
At night my thoughts races, for seconds, minutes, and hours.
They don’t stop until midnight.
Six hours until you have to wake up, yet you still can’t fall asleep.
You wake up to your alarm, wondering how you even fell asleep with your mind so active at night.
You then have to go to school just to do it all over again.
When will my mind stop?
Have you ever thought about doing something so unforgettable?
Something that you cannot fix after pulling the trigger.
This isn’t the kind of thing you can say “I’m sorry” afterwards because if you do it there won’t be nobody to say these words.
Well, what is it? You will have to figure it out since I can’t say those words out loud.
Sometimes I feel that my life is like a graveyard of buried hopes since that’s where all my dreams like to go.
It is getting harder to breath
Harder to sleep
Harder to think
Harder to live
It´s hard for me to explain how I feel but I guess that you would’ve realised by now that it’s no fun.
I feel I’m in conflict with everything
this is something I’ve been feeling a lot lately
I constantly feel out of place
and the things I create are the first to feel the consequences of that
I wanted to make this happy
To give it a happy ending
but happiness its an unknown thing for me
I don’t know what else to say
I guess I don’t like to write anymore
I don’t like to draw
I don’t like to do any of the things I used to
but this has been happening for a while now
I feel like I am at war with myself
and I’m afraid to tell you that I’m not gonna win.
I am afraid of people finding out the way I feel right now
They would treat me like my dad
When my family found out I could see it in their eyes
All the judgment there was