Pent up in here
Left all alone, I’m with
The one I most fear
I’m sick and I’m tired
Just want to break out
Shake off this skin
Loom larger than life
I can’t swallow
Seems like my shadow
Mocks every stride
Can I learn to live with
What’s trapped inside?
Pent up in here
Left all alone, I’m with
The one I most fear
I’m sick and I’m tired
Just wanna break out
Shake off this skin
I can’t escape myself
I can’t escape myself
I need some company
I miss the noise of life
The silence deafens me
The minutes I can’t kill
I keep an eye on the time
I catch it standing still
In my hour of need
Sometimes I get so near
I journey aimless days
But always end up here
In my hour of need
In my hour of need
In my hour of need
Groundhog Day Loop Syndrome
(Image Source: Haruhi Suzumiya (Anime/Manga))
Itsuki: “We’ve entered an endless recursion of time. (x4)”
(Some rambling, sorry. :()
Sigh… I feel like saying so many things on here. 🙁
Like, most of it is on my profile I guess, but it would be nice to talk about personality stuff to see where everyone is at so I can get to know them, or if they never looked into it, they could to discover themselves. 🙂 Like, Myers-Briggs, the Enneagram, arguably sillier ones like their D&D alignment, and so on…
I could also talk about dark anime/manga/games with a sense of hope, or ones so dark they just seem full of despair… the latter is pretty tempting to talk about, and hopefully that won’t make anyone feel worse here though… I guess I could focus on the former for now. 😕 Unless I feel like total garbage or something…
Oh, and maybe I could talk about different outlooks I have on life or thoughts and feelings I had that I saved in my diary, or a Facebook post (as most people ignore me or be mean to me though, I’m wondering about quitting it today, especially if I have this site).
Anyways, here we go. :p
(Groundhog Day Syndrome)
You ever feel every day of your life is the same with little variation besides seasons and holidays? :p Because that’s how I feel all the time. 🙁
I feel like I have to make my own happiness, try to get into new things, but otherwise I just work and work and nothing really changes much, I just live this dull and unhappy life with all these demands and I don’t know how to get out of it, I’m stuck in soul sucking retail with no friends or girlfriend…
It’s like I’m in the matrix… I almost want to watch the Truman Show or this movie called Groundhog Day, I think their both old 90’s movies or something. :p
And maybe it’s a bit of an exaggeration, but sometimes I feel like my job is even like Oddworld, that old school PS1 game. XD
Anyways, I think I felt this was around Winter this year, maybe Spring, that I first posted this on Facebook, part of it was probably from the crappy weather and thinking about how I have no new year’s resolution plans really…
Finally, the image source is from Haruhi Suzumiya, an old school movie from last decade or so that I watched in high school. :p I really liked the disappearance movie, it was mostly a drama as opposed to the anime being mostly a comedy. It’s got enough sci-fi or whatever elements where it becomes it’s own genre though. :p Steins;Gate is almost like a spiritual successor, but where there is ultimately a genuine focus on story and the visual novel games at least are a bit darker for older people. :p (Oh, and I think there was a few fanservice moments too, but yeah. XD)
But yeah, Endless Eight… my life feels like Endless Eight…
P.S. “Kyon-kun, denwa (phone!)”
Here’s a poem I made on Facebook on June 1st, when I really needed to vent. :p
(It’s a bit dark and sadomasochistic, instead of just plain masochistic, I hope that’s okay…)
Not that anyone cares, most people just ghost me…
People usually ignore me or hate me, I’m not sure if anyone is at fault when people leave me or don’t want to talk to me and I’m not sure if I should even care…
I just want to be myself… people are too different from me…
I might make a full post about myself later, but right now I’m kind of lazy. :p
Anyways, here’s the post. Enjoy. <3
(June 1, 2018 (Friday) (26))
Topic: The Solipsist
(Poem by me)
I’m pure evil in reality, yet pure good in the imaginary.
Death is the only freedom I know,
The more I suffer, the more my hatred grows and grows.
Everything I do is to make myself feel free,
In the end, I just want to be me.
Life often doesn’t even seem real,
What does it take just to be able to feel?
When the world ends and burns to the ground,
I’ll be happy knowing there’s no more deafening sounds.
I woke up this morning,went to the kitchen and made a coffee.I sat in front of my pc and I started watching videos on youtube,smoking and trying to kill time.Most of the time I wasn’t paying any attention to these videos.I was thinking.Thinking about my life and the world.
I spent most of my life in this empty house (I’ve been living here since I left my parents’ house when I was 20 years old).Alone.I haven’t got any purpose or any goals to reach.I’ve saved some money,so I don’t have to work for now.But I know that I’ll have to find a job.Working is a nightmare.I don’t see any point in any job.Most of the jobs I’ve worked didn’t mean anything to me.I couldn’t stand them and I couldn’t stand my co-workers.Usually I was silent,I never started a conversation with them.I knew (and I know) that I didn’t (and I don’t) fit in.I didn’t care about their interests or their problems.I quited most of these jobs.
I thought to call some friends and go out,but I didn’t.If I go out with them I’ll have to pretend that everything’s fine.I’ll have to force myself to be social and I can’t do that.If I tell them about my problems,they’ll tell me to go to a psychotherapist or a psychiatrist.I’ve talked to two of them about my situation and they gave me this exact advice: go to a therapist.The problem is that I don’t believe in psychology.It’s not because I’m a religious person,in fact I don’t believe in any god.I don’t believe in psychology or psychiatry because I think it’s a scum.They drug you and they brainwash you to be social,to be like you ”ought” to be.The try to make you construct a false reality,a lie,and to live inside it as ”normal” people do.
The problem,as I see it,isn’t the fact that I don’t have a good job,or that I don’t want to be social.The problem is that I live.Life itself is the problem.Life with its pain,its deceases,its misery and the upcoming death.This life which is never static and always changing.The moments pass with no purpose,with no value at all.Nothing matters.Happiness is just an idea,a myth.Happy are the people that don’t want to see the emptiness of life.Life itself is empty and we try in vain to fill it.Existence itself is tragic.
I know that these thoughts are the cause of my depression and the pain I feel.I have headaches and body pains.Sometimes I have panic attacks and a lot of times I cry.I am an extreme pessimist and I know it.That’s why I never did and I’ll never do anything in my life.But what can I do?That’s the way I think and I can’t change it.There were times that I tried to be like the others,to be social,to be friendly.But either I couldn’t do it or I failed completely.How can I be social when I can’t even be with myself?That’s why I tried to kill myself.Twice.And I failed.There’s nothing worse than the way you feel if you know that you can’t kill yourself.
When I get bored, I try to find something to do.I try to read a book,listen to music or watch a movie,but in the end I give up.I can’t find anything appealing.When I get extremely bored,I take my car and I go to remote places,standing there alone thinking about how worthless my life is.Once, I went up to a mountain near the town where I live and I came up to a stray dog.It came close to me,waving its tail.I started crying.I knew that this dog was happier than me.I knew that this dog had a better life than me.I envy it.I wish I was a stray dog,wandering around with no worries.
I know that there are people with bigger problems and they try hard to continue their lives.They have this strength,this will to live and,I have to admit it,I admire them.But I can’t be this way.I’m weak.I’ve always been weak.Only the strong survive.Strong not in a physical way,but in a mental one.The true survivors are those that can think in a way that keeps them living.I can’t do that.
Nothing will change for me,things will never get better.I’ll have to accept the fact that I’ll live in this kind of hell until the day I die.I’ll be struggling with my problems,hoping to find the strength to kill myself.I’ll have to accept the fact that I don’t belong anywhere and I can’t even stand myself.I’ll have to accept that I can’t escape this reality and I can’t escape myself.
So here I am now,still in front of my pc,with nowhere to go and nothing to do,just waiting to die…
I always feel as if my chest is empty.
So I’ve decided that since I’ll never fill it, I shall make the rest of me feel empty.
Just like much of my writing, this probably won’t be read much before it is eventually destroyed… Though unlike most of my writing, this is public… Just thoughts I guess..
I wanted to say.. I wish there was something… Of all the reasons to leave this world, mine is in essence.. I never found my place.. I never found my passion.. Where I fit.. That one spot that actually seems right..
I’m a great jack of all trades and I have passed tested rating me as a genius.. I’ve thought it all out to the point where I don’t have any questions left to ask..
Its just.. Day after day of pointless carrying on for no reason… I don’t have any hope, though the despair also seems distant, most of the time… Most of the time it’s just fine.. Just living.. Just boring.. Just another day,
except for when the depression hits and I long to leave this world.. To stop the pain… its only then when i really think about how bad things are
my other main reason for leaving.. When I eventually do so, if things don’t somehow change.. Is the way this world work.. It’s knowing so many people I care about have been raped.. Abused.. It’s knowing loved ones have ptsd and go into flashbacks of the things that have caused it.. It’s knowing no matter who I meet or where I go in this world.. We all hurt, we all struggle, we all die…
I’m just so tired of the suffering… I can manage my own just fine, my life really holds no value to me.. It’s that everyone I know seems to have suffered so much.. That gets to me.. I wish I could wash that all away, at least for those I care about..
I can’t stand to bare to.. I know ever one in my life comes and goes.. I’m just a bandaid to their life’s.. But the fact that everyone has endured so much.. gets to me..
being alone gets to me as well.. I long so badly to have someone to be close to.. Relationship doesn’t matter either way.. Just want to be physically close to someone..
Heres hoping.. things come to a close soon.. Perhaps for all of us, if that is what’s best for in the end.. Perhaps it is
I’m new to here, so hello… I’ve been feeling down for a while now and alots been going on… I’m sure a lot of you can relate to this poem …
You make me feel so worthless
So depressed and so alone
You make me feel like crying
And cutting deep into the bone
You look at me in solitude
With your evil looking glare
Make me feel so worthless
Like I’m living in despair
I want you to understand
To have some gratitude in there
To feel the emptiness I feel
And the loneliness in the bed we share
Why am I here
What have I done
Will it ever get better from there
Can it ever be undone
For the pain I feel inside
Is torturous and grim
Like looking through a telescope
And seeing the darkened weary emptiness
That’s flowing from within
For you are not my saviour
My knight in shining gold
You look at me with piercing eyes
And make me feel so cold
What have I done to deserve this
And will this ever end
How long will this continue
How long shall I pretend
I am still here.
It seems as if it is just one disappointment after another. I have everything I need to “punch in my ticket,” yet instill I hesitate. My friend said something is keeping me here, keeping me from committing the final deed. I don’t know what it is but I want to find it. I am tired of the monotony of life and just want to be okay again. I have been seeing a psychologist and psychiatrist on and off for about three years now and it doesn’t seem like it is working. I don’t feel intense emotions anymore and all I do is sleep on the coach and go to work. Nothing that I used to do brings me any joy just a hollow feeling of nostalgia. Then I turn to SP to sympathize with people with depression and mental illnesses alike. Is this is what my life destined to be? Now they are talking about me to undergo Electroconvulsive Shock Therapy. I can just end it easily at any moment, but because it has to be perfect I am still here hating myself. Any other person in this situation would have already done it. It has to be done because things are going to get far worse before they get better, but maybe I am a masochist just enjoying the self torment my mind puts me through. I just want it all to stop and go back to how I was seven years ago before my depression, but it never will. It never will.
Sometimes I wonder if there really is an alternate universe, or another life, or a life in a life. And whatever might happen when you’re dead and your feet are no longer touching the ground.
What do you feel after you die? What do you see? Is everything pitch black, you with no thoughts whatsoever, you literally just gone? Are you really going to be up there, with a God who just so promised to have plans for you? Plans for your life? Or is there another life, where, once you’re dead, you live again. Live another life. Reborn. Forget your past life and just move forward. Start new.
Sometimes I wonder if a new-born baby, a toddler, or a five-year old child just strolling by the streets of Manila could have been someone I knew in the past. Someone I met, who died sometime.
I think that’s what comforts me the most when thinking of death itself. To start fresh. To start new. To be a completely different person, maybe with a better life compared to what you have now, and to be given a second chance, you know? I’d love that.
I read what a few people wrote on my previous post, which definitely was comforting, and everything you said made me think. And those thoughts led to this.
Though again, I’m still contemplating. There’s still a band out there who saved me in more ways than possible, and I’m learning to enjoy what I have at the moment, even if there’s something twisted in my family and group of friends outside the internet.
I still have my internet friends, the people who support the same people I do, and although we’re barely in contact after what my parents have taken from me, we definitely are still in contact, and I’m thankful for every single second spent talking to them, whether it’s about this band or not. They don’t know about what I’ve been going through and I’d like to keep it that way. I feel loved when I’m with them since they don’t judge me at all for whatever I’ve been through, and I guess that’s all I really wanted, you know? To feel loved, since knowing you’re loved doesn’t move the same extent.
And these boys in One Direction? I feel loved. After everything they’ve done for me.
And from my last post–I get that I can still listen to them. Even when they’re gone. Listen to them when I’m upset or angry or just flat out happy. Because I do listen to them. That’s all I’ve been doing at the moment. But it doesn’t move past the comfort of just knowing they’re still doing it, their dream of making music, of entertaining crowds and crowds of people.
This is why the alternate universe thoughts make me feel safer.
I’d rather just die-with no thoughts, everything pitch black. Or with a God, looking down at them, letting them live their dreams, and watching them fade away without feeling just a void of emptiness, of sadness. Or in a new life, where I’m born again, as a child, with thoughts running freely and a wide imagination. Where I don’t care so much about the little things. And I wouldn’t even know what a ‘One Direction’ would be, and would have no interest in them or whatever drama, happiness or sadness revolved around them.
I’d rather die knowing that the actual people who make me feel loved won’t even know I was gone. The boys still wouldn’t know I existed, my friends would think I’m just MIA. My family, I know they could care less. My circle of friends outside the internet would move on. I’ll be okay, won’t I? I don’t know.
when was it that I first knew you?
Eternity — at the age of two
I think I first saw you.
gazing through my tear-soaked blindfold
that my mitten-bound hands could not remove,
I lost myself in the warm colours of your embrace
as terror descended on a body no longer mine.
you remain my first memory. but then,
how could I understand you?
seven. on dark basement steps, you found me again.
though you took me by surprise.
soothing and seducing
were your intoxicating whispers —
yet silent were your eyes.
I took in your ethereal liquor —
I breathed your whispers in.
“You don’t have to be here and suffer;
you just have to imagine.”
so imagine I did. I buried my head into your embrace
and pressed my eyes against my thighs —
no longer on a cobwebbed staircase, I felt myself rise.
I had grown wings.
I felt myself soar and soar.
but then your whispers ceased, and the spell was broken —
I was Icarus no more.
at eight I took to heart my mother’s words:
“Don’t sleep under the blanket, or you’ll run out of air.”
while I ruminated escape. did I dare? did I dare?
I buried my head under my blanket,
and waited for your whispers to arrive.
but they never did —
even when I pressed the blanket tight.
I lay there breathing, and felt my air grow warm.
you had promised. you had promised.
why wouldn’t you come?
sometimes I’d catch you in the news in Singapore;
my family lived on the seventh but
when I was ten I’d go to the thirteenth floor
and imagine the lives of everyone below —
and I’d see your form beckon.
how easy was it to take the leap!
how easy was it for me to go!
at thirteen I started hearing you call and call —
singing a siren song only I could hear
that made me ponder my own insignificance.
that made me feel downright weird —
if my memories had been planted,
I wanted none of it.
I wanted you, Eternity.
I wanted out of my imprisoned skin.
at nineteen, who else could fill my growing empty
where two dozen lovers had failed?
at night I would go to bed to your roaring whispers —
kept up by your siren wail.
you were always waiting home for me,
after every intimate party,
after every proud travail,
to suck the meaning out of them,
until I valued nothing else but you.
you make a fine lover Eternity —
indeed you really do.
but sometimes I’m not sure Eternity
if I’d really want to be kept forever by you.
I must admit your wine is sweetly intoxicating!
sometimes I want to drink my fill —
only to find myself awake in hospitals
where they give me different pills —
till my mind is numbed to silence
till my mind is quietly still.
but the silence is still an absence
that I can still poignantly feel.
some days I’m not so sure Eternity —
sometimes I still dream of eloping with you.
Where to begin… I’ll be 19 next week and I still don’t know what do I want from life, I don’t even know what would I like to do in the future, what would make me happy. It all started around the age of 10 I guess, my parents got devorced and we moved in the new environment. But I wasn’t really sad beacouse of the devorce tbh, it was the new environment, I wasnt excepted there, I was an outsider. But that was only the begining, at first I thought it made me stronger and it did in some way but since that year I can’t say I had 1 read friend, I had few but non who I could really talk to about my problems. But that never’ve bothered me…I liked being alone… It was the fact that whatever I do…I’m not happy…even the stuff that used to make me happy aren’t the same, or when I’m with friends are we(they) are having a good time and I’m really trying to laugh and enjoy that time but all I can do is put on a fake smile….I really hate when I need to fake a smile…but I don’t want to worrie people around me. I even had a summer job last year where I was cleaning the windows at the gass station and you need to smile all the time so you can earn good money…It was so darn annoying job…I even hated myself for doing it but I needed the cash. I’ve never visited a psychiatrist or some other specialist beacouse I didn’t want my parents or other siblings to know I’m gloomy and depressed, they have enough problems theirselfs. Or maybe I’m just scared, I dont know for sure…I don’t know what to expect…Maybe I’ll grow this depression? And there was also this strange “friend” if I may call her that, we meet only once but we were texting quite a lot, she was in some strange stuff, bipolar tho and she claimed there is some sort of life after death…never explained that to me, always said she will tell me when I was ready.. I’ve never understanded this…but It got me woundered maybe there is something more in the other side…maybe I’m just being too curious, but unknown nothing still sounds better than unhappy emptiness ahed of my life…
~Living is just a slow way to die – Mortal love
I wrote this a long time ago, in my teens when I was first coming to terms with my depression and feeling suicidal. This was one of the many many poems I wrote going through a really bad time. Thought some of you might relate or have at some point.
I can’t bare to go on much longer
These suicidal feelings continue to grow stronger
The only escape is in my sleep
I’ve dug this whole and now I’m in to deep
Don’t act like you know how I feel
For you see this life of mine is surreal
Still praying you hear my desolate cries
Everyday I live, A little of me dies
My heart slowly grows cumbersome
Disgusted with who I’ve become
Living in my final days
No this is not just a phase
Constantly searching for a way out
Hopeless with a head full of doubt
Maybe they should just commit me
Lock the door and throw away the key
My smiles are nothing more than fake
Your criticism is more than I can take
My wits are sharper than a knife
Maybe I could use it to end this strife
Doctors are nothing short of a joke
High cost med.’s enough to make me choke
Shortly after speeding off in their vette
Leaving me with nothing more than debt
My only outlet is through these pages
Left with but a pen an paper in life’s cages
Now I’m bleeding to death from a paper cut
Still sitting there ignorant with your eyes shut
Maybe I’m in a coma and on life support
Pull the plug now even if it’s only as ‘Last Resort’
Fighting to hold back the tears you can’t see
With A lump in my throat I cry my last plea
On my knees I reach out from under my bed
By the time you get this I will likely be dead
I know you will or can not understand why
To the best of your knowledge it will defy
You will always remain embedded in my heart
Now the time has come for me to depart
From the icy waters of loneliness and despair
Agony has set in and it is beyond repair
Leave my headstone blank and without name
Cause I was never really known, so it’s all the same
Now I cease to exsist, just a memory of the past
Long forgotten and hardly missed
Drifted off by the tides of new things to come
Now all I am is ‘Comfortably Numb’
I really don’t know what to do anymore.
Some call it a phase of life, others just a small crisis.
But I don’t know and I actually dont care.
I feel empty. Nothing excites me. I don’t have goals and no matter how much I search, I just feel that I will be put down.
Everything I do is put down. I got support, but what does that count? They wont be there forever.
I wonder, why was I born? I feel empty. Don’t feel joy actually and just waste my life.
I tried many times to kill myself, stabbing, hanging, drowning and even throw myself infront of a train or car.
I always hesitated.
The meaning of Life means to live it. But if my life keeps being empty, i wonder…
Why was I given life?
I am tired of it.
Tired of living a meaningless life where every day feels empty no matter how good it can be.
The void always is there.
So I think life itself is just actually a waste. Thats maybe my only opinion. I dont really feel anything else, I am envious of those who can express themselves freely and pure. I wish I could.
The only thing I can feel is Fear.
Fear of Failure.
And between Death and Failure…
I rather choose death…
I really don’t know.
All say I can find the answer myself, but how do I do it?
Is my answer in death?
Maybe I should try again.
But I don’t have the courage to do it. Neither am I in such despair. Those feelings are unknown to me
YOU ask me what i need and WHAT I NEED IS YOU.
I know I cant have you, You tell me i cant have you, you’ve made up your mind. You tell me you love me, you tell me you will still be around but you tell me you’re leaving overseas.. HOW THE FUCK?
You tell me all these things but do you really mean it? Why would you challenge yourself trying to make it overseas when you have a challenge here trying to make this work, make us work and (what i was hoping) start a family. YOU and only you would throw this all away. Is it because i don’t make lots of money? Is it because im in debt? Is it because i have nothing? Nothing to offer but myself..
Why would anybody think that LOVE is enough to keep someone around? LOVE is not forever.. LOVE is to be used and abused. Whats the point of being in love when twice now i’ve had it ripped away. WHY say you LOVE me and leave me? WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL ALIVE?? WHY ANYTHING?
What or who do you think is torturing us?Â And why?Â Is it a god that’s torturing us for some reason?Â Is it some evil powers like demons?Â Or is it justÂ “nature”?
I see a picture of horses grazing in a field and, my god, it’s so beautiful, it’s so peaceful, none of them are bleeding, or in any pain, all of them are beautiful happy and content.Â That’s how life should be.
Instead we have chaos everywhere police syrens, blood, screams, filth, crying, humiliation,Â emptiness, suicide, hopeless, traumatized….
Everything is wrong.Â I want to know why.
It’s been a tough few months for me lately.
Some days i hide it well, others, not so much.
Some days I am sat on my own in my bedroom and I feel so low I have no idea where to go or what to do.
I consider whether my next breath is worth taking dozens of times a day.
Some nights i go to sleep and admit to myself that not waking up; well it wouldn’t be so bad.
Sometimes i will try to talk family or friends but they are always seeming so happy that I don’t want to spoil their day so I put a brave face on.
I am void of all happiness and filled with nothing but despair, anger, sadness and self-loathing where those happy emotions used to be.
And, frankly I’m tired of sounding like a broken record.
I am a Catatonic Schizophrenic which you can imagine brings a fair share of problems itself. I am medicated, daily.
I exhibit all the telltale signs. Some more regularly than others.
And that makes it very hard being understood, especially by new people because I’m just “different” I suppose.
I get very little sleep. Probably less than 30hours a week every week, which I suppose qualifies me as an insomniac.
I had been with my girlfriend for over a year when we broke up earlier in the year, which hit me really hard.
Because i loved her, i really did and I have to come to terms with the fact i always will in some shape or form.
I have made numerous sucide attempts since then. I have been hospitalised 4 times. I have began self harming again.
It’s hard because, in her, was the first person who did understand me. I was actually able to be myself. A person whom even I had become strangers with prior. It was a weird feeling; one that gave me the will to live. Feeling understood was all I’d ever wanted and then it was ripped away from beneath me.
I have been a wreck since.
I dropped out of college after my first attempt to kill myself.
I lost so many friends because It is just too hard for them to deal with a person like me when sometimes they have to have their own problems to deal with. That is not to say I am completely friendless and i am thankful for that.
I guess that in life, sometimes the things which we thought weâ€™d always hold onto slip away.
Some people think holding on in there shows strength. And maybe thatâ€™s true, it sort of does. But it also takes a great deal more strength to know when to let go and then do it, even if we once told ourselves we cared too much to let it happen.
But, the hardest thing off all isnâ€™t letting go. Itâ€™s starting again. Itâ€™s laying the foundations to rebuild yourself.
I have tried so hard to find perfection in my life. To be “Normal”. To be happy again, without her. With someone new or by myself.
Then I realised something. Everyone else feels as empty as I do some days. Maybe less and maybe even more.
I realised that if you are surrounded by people with empty lives, then don’t expect them to fill yours.
After all, how can they? When they are as scared as me or as different as I.
I also decided that there is no such thing as perfection and normal either, I don’t think. Feeling lonely and sad and scared is normal, we all go through it, but some of us just suffer more than others. Maybe it’s not so futile to do something relaxing or that I enjoy just because the feelings of sorrow will return. Maybe the fact they return is a good enough reason to be happy now. What’s the point in being happy now if you’re going to be sad later? The answer is because You’re going to be sad later.
I know it’s hard to when you feel so down. I find writing helps and writing down my problems: it’s a very good way to vent and feel like you’ve got at least some of the anger or sadness or fear out of your head.
Because I’m not alone, not completely, not indefinitely. I can come here and talk to people any time, people who understand those feelings. I just have to try and remember that there will be a better day even if it’s not right now or tomorrow: it will come.
The fact of the matter is, pain wonâ€™t let go until you do and listen to me, you areÂ notÂ as powerless or pathetic as you imagine. You are the complete opposite, you are capable of amazing wonderful things and as for pathetic? No, you are absolutely amazing.
My home life really isn’t as bad as some here. But, I’m not going to say it is spactacular, because I would not be telling the truth.
But at home, there is always conflicts. People are always unhappy. And if I want to talk to anyone in my family about my feelings of depression or emptiness or loneliness, they get shoved asside. When I went to the mental home last year and my parents found I was suicidal, it was more like, you’re turning your back on god, or, how could you be so selfish?
I never want to be a greedy person or selfish, so that hurt a lot. I would do anything to be sure people around me were happy. I’m not always the most generous with food, I’ll be it, but with anything else, yeah, I try. But anyways, at home, it is like, why didn’t you do this, or is this done, or you can do better. And I can’t tell anyone about my issues because they will just ignore them, or tell me I should not feel the way I do.
School has just started a few days ago for me. And that’s ok, I guess. It’s slightly better than being at home, but it is the same. Except for, I got really noone there. This time, last year, I was suicidal because I had a friend who I thought was leaving me, now I’d rather just leave this world, because it feels like I really don’t have many people at all.
I go to school, talk to some people in my classes, but at the end of the day, I am still alone, like always. I used to be able to talk to people and ask if they would like to hang or something, and after so many times of me making the calls and nothing happening, I’ve kind of just given up on trying to make any friends. The people I have put my issues and stuff on have their own lives, and I have to respect that, so I don’t say much to them anymore.
So long story short, I feel I am starving for affection. I would like someone, just anyone, in my real life or whatever, just to talk to about anything. Not like me for my music abilities, or for my athletics, but rather, like me and love me for me. For if I had that, I’d give all the little money I have, for that person. I want to just talk about life, not about my rants, or their depressing stuff but just about stuff in general. I’m tired of being the one who calls people to talk or just chill, and it’s a don’t have time, or no response. I don’t want to burden people, so I have just not tried much lately.
I do try not to wallow in all this, and keep myself busy with life, but at the end of the day, it seems to just catch up with me again.
its seems everything i knew about the human race the people iâ€™m growing up with the people i look up to the ones that leer over me are all… i canâ€™t rely explain it to be honest its like there crossâ€™t between 2 faced and volatile or in the case of my peers just plane violent i look arrowed and everyone i know it seems purely sexually driven like its the only thing they want need desire is sex and frankly i think itâ€™s a bit floored coos if thatâ€™s all you can think of whatâ€™s the fucking Pont what do you think… pray tell you think you can go throw you life fucking everything that moves cos if you do thatâ€™s well A kinder pathetic and B your going to be rely disappointed one day when shit gets in the way Why do we feel the need to be so fucking sexually driven (apart from the basic biological Pont) and by choice there no fucking Pont cos all you will find is a cold emptiness that you will not be able to fill what will you do when the time comes around when that has to stop is that rely all there is to life rely if it is i dont whant to be a part of this shit no more
I’ve been depressed for the past three years. It’s changed me on the inside, and you could almost say that I’ve developed, maybe grown for three years. But it’s odd, and I feel like as if most of my depression is from myself. This post is basically a boring recollection on how my depression has progressed, but hey I feel like posting here. I appreciated this website the moment I set eyes on it. I just don’t know how to sort myself out, and there are a lot of things that are difficult to express with words. I’m starting to get anxiety attacks because of her, and I’m not sure what’s going on in my head.
My parents began fighting the year I was born. I grew up with it, yet I was cheerful and bubbly until the end of 7th grade. I don’t know what happened. I don’t remember what flicked the switch all of a sudden, because I was a straight-A student in 7th grade in a gifted-and-talented program, but suddenly I could barely keep my grades above a 3.0 in 8th grade. I know, I know, 3.0 isn’t the worst GPA in the world, but in the eyes of tiger Asian parents, I was an academic failure. You could say I don’t have it that bad, but I really don’t know how to respond to that. I just don’t.
Anyhow, the first two years of my depression were not what was significant. I’m hitting a parabolic curve here, and it’s gotten much worse in the last few months than it had progressed over the two years before that. This was also the few months when I moved away from my mother to live in a separate apartment with my father, went to three different therapists, and changed my diet to be healthier. I guess I just kind of snapped midway an argument with my mother. I was trying to explain our financial situation to her (she didn’t believe my dad), that my dad didn’t just ship $30,000 he got from a loan to his family; he used it to pay off a lot of our debts. She didn’t believe me either and we started arguing. She called my brother (her and my brother were closer than family; they were emotionally codependent), and when I talked to him over the phone as well, he told me that both of our parents are losers with low intelligence. He told me that he only relies on them for the money and for occasional relationship advice. I don’t know; I guess hearing my perfectly happy, sane brother saying that just did it. My brother was always a health nut, and he told me that all of my mental issues would be solved if I just ate a tip-top diet. Sure, he lost a hundred pounds off of it by eating until he was full, and I lost a few pounds myself, but nothing changed in my mind. But he seemed to have become a completely different person. He was happy no matter what.
But I don’t even know if my case is depression. I’m just horribly hollow. The emptiness is a tight feeling on my chest, as if it’s about to cave in at any moment from the vacuum inside. I hate it. I started cutting a year ago because the rush of adrenaline from the blood calmed me down, but now I do it because it hurts. I don’t enjoy the pain, but it fills me with something, and the empty feeling goes away. It distracts me from…everything else. I have no motivation to do anything. I have goals that I know I can achieve through effort, but I always have a nagging feeling I will never achieve any of them.
The weird part is, however, that in the past year my emptiness has caused me to be emotionally absent in a lot of ways like a psychopath. The irony is that this has actually helped me–my insecurities have made me prettier and more fashionable; my I-Couldn’t-Give-a-Fuck personality has made me smoother and garnered me more friends; my lack of motivation has made me come up with cheating methods that actually improved my grades; the fact that I never felt compelled to talk to people unless they talked to me first made me seem more trustworthy and has made me the person people go to for secrets. I don’t know why, but I’ve grown a superiority complex and people mistake it as confidence. More for me, I guess. I even got a boyfriend who cares for me for more than my body. Sounds good, right?
But goddamnit I’ve sealed myself off. I can’t even tell my two best friends, who come to me with all their secrets, anything unless they caught me. They don’t know that I cut, that I feel empty, or even that I moved out with my father. I feel like a brat. I have people who care about me all around me now, yet I can’t seem to improve myself. My mother has calmed down, my father has improving motivation, and my brother is a motherfucking med student with tip-top grades and girlfriends all around. I’m just so,Â soÂ empty. It’s either that or Willy-Waterworks streaming from my eyes at the most random of times.
Now I’m not sure if I’m just really depressed or I’m going crazy. I invented “Mother” and Mr. Parston when I was young to create an explanation for the ghosts in my room I was afraid of when I was young. I used to pretend that they were just guardians who watched me from the shadows, but now I’m relying on them. I feel their presence sometimes when I cry, their arms wrapped around me. I feel like there’s a separate “me” who is growing in my mind like a malignant tumor. I experience the depression and try to make something of myself from it, but that “me” has recently made another presence of herself. I don’t know if I’m even making sense anymore. “She” is just…something else. When I lie by myself in silence, she emerges. She tells me to cut myself even when I don’t want to; she enjoys the sight of blood and is always pressuring me to cut into a major artery. She keeps chanting at me that the pain is pleasurable. In a way it helps me blank out as my hand keeps dragging the blade, but I don’t like how I have to hide lots and lots of scars. I don’t know if she is just a product of me pushing my sadistic nature into a corner and blaming it on a separate entity, but her presence is an expanding mass inside my head, not a physical one like that of Mother and Mr. Parston. Paired with the caving emptiness inside my chest, sometimes I break down when I’m by myself just by hearing her voice.
I want to die, but I don’t want to hurt all of my friends and family. But every time I refuse “her,” she yells inside my head and it makes me panic until I cut myself. She wants me to go out with a bang, to take a large knife and cut out my entrails. I attempted that once by getting hammered on hard liquor and stab myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even while I was drunk. I got scared last second and diverted the knife so Â I cut my side instead. I scared my parents and had a wicked hangover, and I began to sob when I heard that my mother developed a fear of large knives since then (she uses small, serrated knives now, even for cooking). I almost wish I was successful at that moment. But anyhow, “she’s” still pushing, and I just want her to stop, the emptiness to stop, everything to stop. I want time itself to stop so that I can catch up. Everything to just…stop, even if for just a little bit.
I know that my parents were a factor in my depression, but I blame myself for it. Often times I would yell back at my mother and a few times I returned her hits. I know she’s controlling, but I often break the rules she sets for me out of personal grudge. Besides, I talk myself down a lot, too. It’s like negative thoughts come into my head and I agree with them and encourage them. I just think pessimistically and it makes me more down than before. I used to be excited for school because then I could escape my home, but now I just loathe it because I dwell on other people’s flaws, forcing myself to hate people. But in the end, I’m afraid of what “she” might do. I fear nothing else. Not death, not pain, just her. I’m trapped. Time just inches forward regardless of what I do, and I can’t keep up anymore. I don’t want to sleep because I want time to pass by as slowly as possible, not swiftly like the way sleeping makes it.
Augh this was so long! I’m sorry if it was boring. There’s been a lot on and in my mind recently. Just my two cents. Or maybe twenty.