I used to be happy. I used to be full of joy. I used to be bursting with life. What happened? What made me feel this way, living with so much hate and emptiness? I’m an average person with nice friends, a caring family, and an endless amount of love in their heart, right? Wrong. That’s what people think about me, that’s what people believe that I am. Sadly, they don’t know the real me. In reality, I’m a wreck. I have had depression for a month, suffer from anxiety attacks, and lack motivation, not to mention the constant emptiness I feel. I recently started self-harm, cutting my knuckles and hands. Hope for me seems lost. According to my parents, nothing I ever do or say is right, and they constantly point out my failures. One night I got upset and actually admitted to cutting myself. They began to cry and told me to go upstairs to my room. I haven’t come out since, worried about what they’ll say to me when I do. My “friends” constantly reject me, or completely forget I’m in the room with them. School makes my life even more miserable, giving me huge amounts of homework and projects that trigger my anxiety attacks. Every night I cry myself to sleep, dreading having to survive another day of it tomorrow. I’ve never considered suicide before, and I don’t think I ever will, but I’m beginning to feel like a waste of space. I’m like a peice of glass with a crack down the middle, just waiting to shatter into a million pieces……. Thank you for taking the time to read this, it really means a lot to me to know that people care. : /
It’s like a taste in my mouth..
Yes a taste, very faint, but still there
I can just see myself. Released into space
Suffocating from the lack of oxygen
Just so peacefully dying
I don’t want to blink and be dead
No…I want to feel it…to feel it slowly slipping away
I have these day dreams, where I’m in Chernobyl..
Walking down the street wearing the uniform of one of the original fire men..helmet to boots…
Just walking the empty city like a zombie
Letting the radiation turn my skin pail, my veins showing like I’m some kind of junkie,
A Fox walks up and asks? Why do you have that on, you know it’s covered with more radiation than anything else here right?
I turn to the Fox, with a blank face, a cold set of eyes and a dry voice….reply..we don’t eat,,,falling over dead shortly after
The Fox looks to the sky and softly mumbles…the world will never be the same..in a sorrowful way
I’d sell my soul to the devil himself….if he could make that come true…as long as my body disappeared, and no one ever knew…not because I want to shield anyone..simply because I’m cold..colder than the peaks of mounteverest, and deeper than the bottomless pit I fell in,
Some people embrace responsibilities and challenges. I avoid them.
Most people spend their 30’s, 40’s and 50’s advancing their careers and/or raising a family. I’m 30 and have no interest in either. I have friends now but I wonder how many of them I’ll still have in ten years when they’ve all “moved on.”
I was so well suited to the school environment where things were highly structured and most work was individual, but so ill suited to the real world where things are less structured and uncertain and most work is done with other people.
I completely lack basic life skills like cooking and fixing things, nor do I have any interest in learning them. I haven’t been particularly interested in learning anything for a while, actually. On the other hand when I was a kid I loved learning everything.
I’m just afraid of life. And even more afraid of love.
I feel like the bus that was meant to hit me five years ago got stuck in traffic or broke down instead. If it hadn’t, people would probably remember me for all the promise I had then instead of for the way it’s all crumbling now.
When I’m faced with an uncomfortable challenge in life, I’m always afraid I might fail and I’m usually even more afraid that I might succeed. The only safe option is to not try, so that’s what I often do. That’s why being depressed makes me feel safe, because I know I’m not going to talk myself into taking any risks. And it’s not like I have any life goals or (realistic) dreams that might inspire me to overcome those fears. When I dig holes for myself, I tend to want to stay there.
I fear failure because, well, disappointment and rejection suck. I fear success because when I succeed, people (including myself) tend to raise their expectations and/or give me more responsibilities. That means that when I inevitably have a depressive episode it’s more overwhelming and harder to deal with. I start to see myself as a fraud, or a ticking time bomb, and figure it’s only a matter of time before my emotional instability or lack of some critical skill is exposed in front of everyone.
I should be redesigning my website so i can get an entry level job in the field. I should be redesignimg and adding to the couple of clients’ site I’ve had. Im procrastinating out of fear. Well that and food anxiety im juice fasting today save for the banana i had while writing this post. I dont want to screw it up. Stupid i know logically something is better than nothing. I have a voice that tells me I can’t do it. Sometimes i can ignore that voice other times i can’t. There’s another voice telling me that I should kill myself. Honestly the only reason that voice loses is lack of method. I’m still living with some regrets of my past i feel i waited too long to lose weight. There are people who I’ll never talk to again and i go back and forth as to whether or not thats a good thing or sad failure or a combination of both. Idk i wish i could knee someone in the face though.
I fucking hate myself im so shit at almost everything i try even when i really try i still fail. I never apply myself, im lazy, i lack enthusiasm and drive, i think too much, i dont get the simpler stuff, im fucked in the head in some way or another or multiple i just know it.
Dont bother commenting or do but im going to bed so laters peeps.
I don’t have the energy right now to explain the full history. The short version is that since I took Chantix in September of 2008 I havr had massive depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation.
I’ve now lost everything. My 2nd marriage crumbled 3 years ago, and I don’t think I will ever get over it. I’m currently 36. My oldest daughter is in college, my younger son is 15 and, although I have custody of him from my 1st marriage, I didn’t fight him a year ago when he announced that he wanted to go live with his mom. I wasn’t doing him any good – he shouldn’t have had to witness my downward spiral. My youngest son is 13 and lives with his mom, my 2nd wife.
I lost my job (as a Systems Administrator) in July of 2014 and have been unemployed since.
I lost my whole family. I eventually ran out of funds and ao I’m a 36 year old living at my mom’s house where I have slept on the couch for the last 8 months. How pathetic is that!
I identify as transgender. My mother is from a generation and social environment where she can’t even acknowledge my gender expression.
At this point I’m done researching methods – my problem is not a lack of methods. I’m just done. I’ve hung on for as long as I can.
Before I start my post, I’m apologising for the lack of replies to the comments on my last post. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind the other day, so I thought it was best to not reply at that time.
The last two days have been particularly awful. My moods have been so irregular I’ve had to leave rooms because everyone is utterly pissed at the lack of stability. And the voices are so frequent I feel like my head is going to explode. I can’t cope with the constant noise.
The figures aren’t much better. I see things everywhere now; I can’t look in once place without seeing someone or something. I was trying to start my essay the other day and the words kept moving on the page, and the paper started breathing – in short, I panicked over ‘the tree still being alive’ and I went into the garden at 3:00am to try and plant it so it would be okay. I realise now how ridiculous that was.
I’ve been doing the therapy diary to keep notes of the voices – however, I’m only writing some of the times I hear them. I only really write them in when I attempt to distract myself because that’s what my therapist said to do. The entries are so brief and undersized though (in fear my family or one of the Others reads it), I don’t know if it’ll be much use to my therapist.
My aunt and uncle and their kids came over today (we rarely see them since they live down south), and it was noisy the entire time they were here – about 3 hours. So the voices were even worse – because they can get triggered in noisier situations. I felt like listening to them and just walking out (they keep saying I need to run away and hide from everyone until it’s safe again). But it all calmed down after an hour or two.
My aunt was talking to my mum about her Bipolar, and my mum was telling her about my moods and stuff. So my aunt said I probably have Bipolar or something because my symptoms are very similar to hers, and she said I should bring it up in my next meeting with my psychiatrist. Fun.
That means admitting to her I haven’t been taking my antidepressants for the best part of 3 years (antidepressants trigger mania and makes mood swings in Bipolar worse, and if she thought I was taking them then she’d instantly dismiss the thought of Bipolar. And now that I think of it, the main reason I stopped taking it in the first place – before the Angels – was because it made my moods fluctuate horribly and I couldn’t handle the intensity or irregularity of them). So I’m not looking forward to our meeting next month.
I couldn’t get in with my doctor this week again because there were no appointments, and I couldn’t leave the house on Tuesday anyway. But I’m going to try again next week.
Last night was awful. I considered going to hospital at 4am last night because some of the Angels kept saying I needed to kill myself, and if I killed myself then they would use what’s in me to defeat the Others. But the other Angels were telling me not to trust those Angels, and it all got really stressful and loud. But I eventually fell back asleep and avoided doing anything.
Surprisingly, I can’t hear anything right now. Which is shocking, considering I’ve heard voices constantly for a week and a half now, I think. I’m making the most of it, and decided to write this post.
My posts don’t usually seem to flow very well due to the continuous noise distracting me and my thoughts jumping from each different thing – they are now, but I can type quick on my phone, so that isn’t a huge problem for once. So I hope this post makes sense for a change.
I feel that friendship is more fragile and more important compared to a relationship. I don’t know, but it’s like whenever my friends suddenly act cold, it hurts so fucking bad I just add a few more cuts just to be able to feel. Fucking hell it makes no sense.
Honestly, it really fucking terrifies my how much of a hold this person has over me. All she has to do is say a word, and I think I’ll just fucking crumble. She’s not even the person I’m in a relationship with. But I’d rather lose him than her. It’s really difficult and just tiring to try and stop myself from doing something to chase her away. I really couldn’t stand it if she hated me.
Sometimes when I feel like I’ve said something wrong and she goes all quiet, it just makes me hate myself all the more. She’s done this before last year. She was really close with me, and then suddenly the cold shoulder came for roughly 3/4 of the year. This time she’s gotten really close again, just after I’d gotten over the fact that I’d lost her.
Now I’m just afraid she’ll up and leave when I’m no longer needed.
It’s just kinda scary, and this lack of control just makes me want to cut more.
“The problem lying behind the lack of human fulfilment was a shortage not just of time but of imagination. They found a day that worked for them and then stuck to it, and repeated it, at least between Monday and Friday. Even if it didn’t work for them – as was usually the case – they’d stuck to it anyway. Then they’d alter things a bit and do something a little bit more fun on Saturday and Sunday.
One initial proposal I wanted to put to them was to swap things over. For instance, have five fun days and two not fun days. That way – call me a mathematical genius – they would have more fun. But as things stood, there weren’t even two fun days. They only had Saturdays, because Mondays were a little bit too close to Sundays for Sunday’s liking, as if Monday were a collapsed star in the week’s solar system, with an excessive gravitational pull. In other words one seventh of human days worked quite well. The other six weren’t very good, and five of those were roughly the same day stuck on repeat.”
? Matt Haig, The Humans
I’ve lost my connection to time, everyday flows into the next becoming a kind of Ground Hog Day, only i’m not learning anything so can’t envision it ever ending.
More and more these days I’m overwhelmed by just an omnipresent sadness that coats everything. Even my stock answers to “how are you doing?” can’t even mask my intense sadness as people realize I really mean the opposite of what I’m saying. Most times during the day I’ll just find myself uncontrollably tearing up. I’m not upset or distraught, more just a resigned moroseness that in itself is defeatist and depressing.
Even my daughter comes and hugs me several times a day just to remind me how much she loves me because she can sense my complete lack of joy.
I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.
There were many indications and hints long ago that something is off about me. There was a big fear that this thing that I call a life would never function like it is suppose to. Did anyone help? I don’t feel like they did but knowing how delusional I can be with my mind only thinking so negatively, they probably did.
Was it it helpful, I can easily say that no it didn’t really help me. Here I am years later with all of my issues amplified with new ones created. All of these problems coupled with the lack of energy that holds me down every day. I wish I could be free but I’m trapped in my own mind. I wish I could do the things that I want but it always turns to shit.
None of these things matter if I take my own life, it’s literally the only way I can see of escaping.
I’m pretty sure it was a month or 2 ago that I made a post saying that I was hopefully leaving this world and that it could very possibly be my last post. Nope. It didn’t pan out the way I would’ve wanted it to so I’m still here. Around the time I found out it wasn’t going to happen my mother took notice for once of my depression. So it was about 4 years ago that my mother moved me away from my friends and I haven’t made any since, partially due to my social anxiety but also a lack of opportunity. Anyway my mother got it into her head that my lack of friends was at the root of my depression, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t have a part to play, it certainly isn’t at the root though but that’s a story for another time. She had me get on a bus and travel almost 10 hours to my home town to see my friends in attempt to make me happy again; It didn’t work. I spent a month there and in that time I actually lost my only friends. My mother finally came to pick me up and on the way home I very bluntly told her I wanted to kill myself and my reasons why, her initial reaction was to shrug it off. Later that week she broke down in tears and told me that I two options: seek therapy, or she would send me to a mental institution. Since I already have plans to shoot myself in the head with a shotgun this summer I couldn’t go with the second option and I’m not really one for therapy I didn’t want to go with option one either. So I took advantage of her bad memory and convinced her that I hadn’t said I was going to kill myself, only that it was something I considered but only as a last resort if I can’t put my life together. It got her off my back and now I can carry out my plan this summer, which is only possible because my hair-brained hunter brother bought a shotgun and wants me to try shooting a shotgun for the first time and because I’ve worked up the courage I needed to not be dependant on having a partner. Unlike my previous post I can rest assured that the next time I say goodbye on this site, it will be for good.
Here’s a pretty thorough list of why I suck, and you should hate me. In no particular order….
I obsessively worship artist. Music, pictures, poetry, books, movies, sculpture. Art period. I love it. I want to be an artist. But I suck. I prey on you here, I know you’ll lie to me. I want to believe that lie. But I’m terrible. I’ve spent THOUSANDS!, ON music equipment. To compensate. So I look cool as I finger fuck my way through Teen Spirit. My poetry? Makes me sound like a spoiled ***** angry he got the charcoal Mercedes instead of quartz grey for his birthday. My stories lack build up, straight to the climax…. Which, next point…
I’m a terrible husband/bf. I won’t give 2 flying fucks about anniversary, Valentine’s etc. If I’m happy on a Tuesday, we celebrate, if I’m pissed on Christmas, it’s cancelled. I don’t give 2 shits about your interest unless it’s something I’m into, but I fully expect your undivided interest and attention. I will adorn you in fancy gifts but I’ll never say the L word.
I’m a terrible friend. Half the reason I have none. Other half being my wife’s a *****. Why am I terrible? Well I have a systematic way of rating people. I will use the fuck out of you. I’ll be sure I’m gaining more than you. I’m not your rock. I’ll help move a couch, if you don’t give back I’m out. Plus, see above, I’ll guilt trip the hell out of you to build false confidence.
I’m a garbage parent. I like to do a few hours of play time but I fight real parenting as much as I can. Discipline, diapers, feeding, putting to bed etc, I avoid.
I’m not a hideous chud, but, I don’t take care of myself. I usually look like I been sleeping on a park bench. I just don’t care. I probably smell like I bathe in a dumpster and use an ashtray for soap. I have horrible teeth from years of neglect and drug abuse. So I’m sure my breath is considered a hazardous substance, I will breathe on you to death.
I’m a shit employee. I slack like a pro. Hence I’m so fucking manipulative. I will do the bare minimum but convince you I’m the best. When I fail, I’ll make you feel bad for setting me up to fail.
Please, add anything I may have forgotten.
I’ve been sleeping through the past few weeks since the new semester began. Last semester i slept through the last 2 months of term and i scraped through my exams, but since then i just dont have the energy or the discipline to work. And it’s kind of funny because what happens to those of us who don’t want to work? Do we just go homeless and starve on the streets? If it comes to that, i’ll make a point of dying on my own, out of the way, in the wilderness somewhere.
Every time i feel this complete and utter lack of hope, a level of hopelessness so deep and complete that it fills up my veins, I come on here and attempt to put it into words and, ironically, hope that somebody knows the magic string of sentences that will put me back together again.
I’m at a point where I cant quite decide if i want to work in an insane asylum for the rest of my life, or live in one. Neither option is available to me, but when i’m asleep i can dream.
That i don’t actually need. But im useless. I’ll never have a meaningful experience with a woman. Why? Part anxiety. Part social ineptitude, mostly consistent negative reinforcement. I am simply not attractive enough. When i did approach women i had to consistently risk and have panic attacks for the opportunity to put a lot of effort into someone who didnt give a quarter of a squirt of piss about me. Id get lied to or disparangingly “accepted” Occasionally id get a one off pity lay. The fuck could possibly the point. I’ve been working out for about a month and trying to diet. The fuck is the point i have this jacked up complexion and repulsive demeanor and brokeness and complete lack of trust. Im old tired and depressed and suicidal. Im not here because i want to be i have to be. Despite all the comments I’ve been leaving I’m going no comments. These posts usually breed comments that make me feel worse.
I know I don’t mean anything to any of you, but I just need someone to know how scared of myself I am.
I continuously have dreams in which I end up dying, more often than not, by my own hand. I’ve jumped off buildings, jumped in front of moving cars, slit my wrists, overdosed, etc. I day dream and lose myself in suicidal role plays threatening my sanity. I wish I could turn off my thoughts for a day. I wish I could stop getting lost playing scenarios like pornography to an addict. Am I addicted to the thought of my death? Do I desire it that strongly? I am fairly positive it isn’t a lack of attention, but quite possibly a thriving need for someone to see how pained my emotions are. I can’t speak out and my cries are too subtle, or overlooked… I’ve contemplated calling a suicide hotline, but where would that get me? I’d prolong the inevitable even longer. They sit and attempt to convince me that I’m worthwhile, but if I was worth anyone’s while, I wouldn’t be on the phone with them. It’s not always like this. I actually find myself feeling happy sometimes. I feel like everything is falling into place for me right now. If that is the case, why do I still find myself crying in pained reminiscence of my thoughtless desires? What is wrong with me?
I’ve read numerous articles. “You won’t always feel like this. Just put off your decision for a day, a week, even longer.” It’s been a month and I still want to kill myself. I won’t be able to stop my hand next time.
I guess my time is drawing near.
At this new job at my brother’s company, anxiety is always flaring up and up. Meeting clients is so much of a struggle because I try to leave my social anxiety and depression at home. My brother keeps on telling about the Lord and how he’ll save me et cetera
I just feel like I don’t belong and wasn’t meant to be in the first place. I can’t function like a normal human being. The boredom and repetitive mundanities of everyday life just render me powerless. Lack of confidence in self, in the world. I am generally fucked to the 100th degree.
Getting lost in fantasy is how I get through most of my day. I always imagine myself being a vigilante bringing criminals to justice, a mutant who can walk through walls and a drop dead gorgeous guy who dates lots of hot people ( I am Bi-sexual). Fantasy gets me through my miserable daily existence but the inability to actually live out my fantasies worsens my depression.
In Real life I am an absolute W.O.S. My anxiety is always flaring and it impedes my participation in life as a functional adult. I also lack the knack to be competitive in life. I live vicariously through pessimistic and fatalistic philosophies. I am a complete W.O.S. I deserve nothing but the void, I am burden to the eco-system and this planet does not need my services. I lack purpose and direction. Now let me go to my room, smoke weed,take my meds and cry.
Graphics went okay, I guess. It turns out they’ve extended the deadline to next Monday, and my tutor didn’t see my lack of work as she was busy.
However, the morning was unbearable. I was in college no less than 15 minutes when I started to have another ‘episode’, for lack of a better word. Thankfully, it only lasted roughly 3 hours. I see my doctor tomorrow morning, first thing. And I’m debating on whether to tell him about what happened today.
I can’t remember most of it, but I vaguely remember believing everyone in college were robots and were part of a plan to attack me when they were given the signal. Thus, I did no work for the entire morning, and spent the three hours paranoid of when they were going to get me and looking around for cameras and the Others.
The Angels were louder and harsher, and I couldn’t block them out at all. If I recall correctly, I spoke aloud to them at some points during the morning – which earned me confused glances from others.
The faceless figure was back also, and he sat beside me for an hour or so while emitting faint smoke (causing me to cough constantly), and he made the room cold (so I shivered none stop).
This all abruptly stopped just after 1, and everything was silent.
I don’t know if this is worth mentioning to my doctor or not since I don’t remember much of what happened, nor what caused it. Plus, Im still uncertain as to whether my psychiatrist has got inside his head yet. I wouldn’t know how to bring this up, anyway.