Hey you, you know who you are.
I just wanted to write you a little something personal. And no, I am not blaming others entirely for my short comings like you think I do. And I know you say “you don’t have to be like your siblings” but I know that’s just kind of pretend.
Because I know you have done the same shit with them. For some reason they worked out better then I did. But, you told me you’re disappointed in all of us for individual reasons anyway.
Oh and I am sorry for that your dream of becoming rich and beautiful has not worked out because you married the man you love.
But before I go into the negatives, I want to genuily thank you for keeping me in line with school. That I could get an education even though I frustrated you a lot. For that, thank you.
That’s where it ends unfortunately.
Nothing ever was good enough for you. My grades weren’t up to par with my siblings who have been bringing you A’s and B’s in almost all of their classes. But it doesn’t stop there, nothing I ever do is up to your expectations. I stopped trying to get your approval, just wanted to get by with okay grades.
For all the times I needed you, you told me to get over it, ignore it or talk to my teachers. Especially when I first attempted suicide… yes the Events leading up to it were my fault… you said I should get out of the clinic as soon as possible to get back to my chemist school. And advised me not to tell my friends about it and being unnerved when I did. You said I shouldn’t take the medication because I am “fine”. You said I should hide the medication when People are over, and to never mention this to the rest of our Family. You repeated yourself when I went in the second time. You added I shouldn’t go to the psychologist afterward.
I know you weren’t happy when I bawled my eyes out because you interogated and “pushed me into a corner” by locking the door when I told you to leave because I was upset. And even unhappier, when I asked you to come with me to an appointment with our GP about being transgender.
You said you’d come along, because you love me.
Instead you barged in the door a few hours later and told me I should pack and go if I ever did anything. I would not be your child anymore. Seven years since that, can’t trust you ever since and you ask me why I don’t open up to you.
Everytime and I mean every single time I lost a Job, you blamed it on my Looks. I told you the reasons countless times, you never believe me. You tell me that my employers were lying and my coworkers were lying and it was either my hair, my look, my clothes anything other then cheap tacticts, econimical reasons or People coming back from maternal leave. “NO it is because you wore that girly shirt – Cut your hair”
And thank you for a recent compliment and told me “You’re too ugly to work in a pharmacy”
You say you mean well, and that your words have to be harsh because I won’t listen. “You know I am right, don’t be so stubborn”.
You forced me to cut my hair off… the hair that was always well kept, conditioned and combened. Always tied back where it wouldn’t interfere with work. It needed to go because you guilt tripped me into it. I needed a job and of course anything you deemed innapropiate… needed to go.
You keep telling me that my psychiatrist is a bad influence on me, because she is helping me Transition. “It saddens me whenever you go” and when I said it’s your Problem that you have a Problem with me being trans you yelled “Don’t you ever think of me?!” to which I replied that I can answer questions and assure you I am fine, whatever ruckus this causes inside you is your own to deal with. Then you said I am cold and uncaring.
Sometimes I wonder if you even realize that one of your children seriously endangered it’s life because of mental illness and emotional negligence. You don’t listen to me if things seem alright for you. Most important to you is that I have a Job and that I pay every month. Anything else seems unimportant. Unless, of course, I have fresh wounds on my arms. THEN you jump into action and ask if I am alright.
Even though I got you Information about tell-tale-signs about Depression you either choose to ignore it, or haven’t read them thouroughly.
I don’t blame you for all of my mental and social Problems. But I blame you for and empowering my fear of not finding a job as a transwoman, worthlessness and being an outcast/freak of society that will never amount to anything.
thanks for reading
I don’t particularly want to kill myself, but it has become the only practical solution. I believe some people aren’t meant to make it in this world, and that I am one of them. I learned how to pretend and act normal socially, but I can’t maintain it. When there’s no one telling me what to do, I just sit there, so I find it very hard to pretend to have a personality in a workplace or in order to maintain any human relationship. For a while, it works, because I can listen to other people and run around and have fun, and talk to many strangers, but it is like carrying an awful secret to know that no one can know that I can’t figure out life and that I don’t really have a life and depend on other people’s ideas. Talking to therapists hasn’t helped because they just want to put labels like “depression” and “social anxiety” and prescribe medications, but I don’t know how to explain that I spent a lot of time watching everyone around me and trying to be (or not be) like them, leaving me empty. I can’t seem to grow up because I have the same thoughts every day. I used to follow my instincts in order to survive, but now my instincts aren’t telling me anything helpful. Life feels like a very strange joke and just a long, slow death. So, I would rather speed it up than be burdensome on others or end up all alone on a street corner. I am waiting until after my brother graduates from college in a couple of months. Honestly, if I could figure out life, I wouldn’t do this, but I can’t really fake who I am anymore and I just don’t seem to fit in society. I don’t feel like another 50 years of this nothingness. Has anyone else felt like this?
I go into the hospital tomorrow morning for some tests.
One of them is a dexamethasone suppression test to see if I have Cushing’s Disease, the other is to see if I still have Osteomalacia. (Not osteoporosis but osteomalacia).
I’ll find out the results next week, plus I’m hoping they’ll start investigating the tumor in my head which showed up on the x-ray about 2 years ago. (Yeah, they’re taking their time with that for some reason).
If the worst-case scenario happens with the tumor, I may not even have to worry about suicide after all.. my body will self-destruct all on its own.
Still can’t decide whether that would be a good thing or not.
I have no idea if this is going to work right.
If you’re able to listen to the sound file, here’s the story behind it:
I wrote it in 2011, and it’s called “Requiem”.
A requiem is a song written to honor someone who has passed away.
I thought it might be nice played at my funeral.
I realize the instruments are all computery and fake sounding; it’s artificially generated sounds, and I’m sorry about that. I wish it came out better. It would be better with real people playing real instruments.
The instrumentation is as follows:
Here I am again, a year later. I want to die, it’s the easy way out. I want to give up. Life is hard, death is not. I’m tired of doing and trying.
I am not depressed. I just do not want to do anything. It’s a cop-out. I am lazy.
I do not wish to die, I wish to do nothing. Forever.
The ultimate cop-out. The peak of laziness, to cease to exist. A coward, that is me. What I get I deserve, and I cease and I desist. I give in, I give up, I surrender. You have won, all that have doubted me. You have won, I have lost. Bravo. I applaud you. You win at living and I die. And it is believing that life could be easy and comfortable that killed me. It is believing in unconditional love that killed me. For there is no love, for me, not for me, the real me, no.
You, you should know not to love. Know not to feel. People can die and I will not cry. And you will not cry either. And so, it does not matter. When my father died, it did not matter. And neither will the death of me. I felt nothing, absolutely nothing.
People act as if a death in the family is an excuse for failure. It is not, I lost my will to live years earlier, because of my own foolishness. Do people deserve second chances? I believe one mistake can end your life, and I cannot pretend otherwise. I cannot allow failure. Taking foolish risks was my mistake. Pretending I could deal with the consequences was my mistake. Knowing it could not end well, and doing it anyway. That is something I cannot take. That is not me, that is someone else. I like safety and success. Why, oh why did I have to buy into that lie?
I knew better. I did. I tried to change myself, and change myself for the worse I did. I do not know who I am anymore. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. Maybe I was better before I thought I could make myself even better. Maybe I just did not try hard enough to go all the way. I do not know.
I decided to get some obligations as an incentive not to kill myself. And I now abandon those obligations. I am sorry I could not carry it out like I promised. Going out while on top is what I’d like to think I’m doing. But what I am doing is breaking a promise. And that shall forever be my legacy. I have betrayed you. I have abandoned and left all that was good in my selfishness.
Out I go, too afraid to face the consequences of my actions. Too afraid of what future may unfold. Out I go, as coward, deserter and betrayer. Let me be a warning example.
Life goes on without me, I am sure. Those who know how to live shall keep on living. Others will die, and that is the way of the world. Goodbye.
This is a first, reaching out because I’ve reached my end thinking this is going to take so much energy to write and expecting no response it hardly seems worth the effort. I’m a walking contradiction… I’ve read a few enteries and like some of you, I suffered a horribly abusive childhood however I can’t get over it. That said, I’m house bound, self inflicted. I haven’t left my house in ages, afraid of being judged, having to talk, seeing someone I know and having to pretend that my life is perfect which it isn’t. I’ve lots of bad habits, one of many is talking in circles, I’m sorry. I’ve was diagnosed with clinical depression at age 17, been on antidepressants since forever. My first suicide attempt was at 13, I don’t think I wanted to die cause I called a family member when I began feeling very much out of sorts and she rushed me to the hospital, where the Dr’s didn’t believe that I had taken the amount of medication that I truly had, here began my fight with life, every aspect of it. Oh shit, I remember when I was discharged my mother came to get me and was supposed to bring a change of clothes and forgot underwear and shoes, yup, humiliating. Fast forward to today, countless failed suicide attempts later, living w a man who treats me like arm candy or like shit depending on the day lol (I glance in the mirror and see an unattractive, desperate, pathetic ANGRY sad empty desperate loser)
I’ve never loved him. I never wanted to love him, I just settled like I always do, thinking that I don’t deserve better so wtf, just settle. he was a way out from my verbally physically abusive family. I hate him, that’s so mean, I wish I didn’t feel that way but I do. He’s always been emotionally unavailable so talking to him is like talking to a brick wall. Why I do this I’ve not a clue, I PUSH EVERYONE WHO CARES ABOUT ME OUT OF MY LIFE, and I wonder why I’m so lonely….I haven’t anyone to talk to, my dear sweet older brother has Autism, my older sister is a fuc—g abusive drunk. (I don’t know who was more abusive her or my mother, I guess her cause she still treats me as though I were a piece of shit, deserving of her abuse. I had to install an alarm system on my ” house” bcuz of her threats of death. My father has Alzheimer’s and he was my rock, he still is in a weird way. His health declining rapidly is gut wrenching and the day he doesn’t rmbr me is the day I WILL DIE. He wasn’t perfect, but he cared, he listened and never judged. My dad always knew what to say, how to be a parent like, not perfect, abusive but for some strange reason I always forgave him. My emotionally, verbally, physically abusive mother died wen I was 28. The abuse started wen I was soooo young. I don’t have much memory of my childhood but the bits I do rmbr suck. She’d have me awake, dancing w her at all hrs of the morning memories of the latter as early as grade 1…it got worse. She’d slap me in front of my friends, belittle me at any time she could, as I stood wide eyed, tearing up, wishing the floor wud open up and swallow me, this was my childhood and my life until she died. The last words she uttered to me were, “you’re the devils spawn” how am I ever to get over those words, from my flesh and blood? I can’t, haven’t and won’t. As I ramble on, bk to my dad, she threw him out wen I was 11. In hindsight, I should’ve left with him, but never knew I could. She had such a tight reign on me, I loathed her. Now that my dad needs me, I can’t be there for him. I don’t leave my house, going through another episode of agoraphobia, debilitating. Everyday a piece of me dies. I wish I were happy, could smile and feel that smile instead of the dread and despair. Can I PLEASE get a hug. I long for human touch…
Back to today, barely existing, walking on eggshells feeling the lowest I’ve felt in my entire life, pretending to be ok. I’m lonely, OMG IM SO VERY LONELY whether it be by my own hand/will, I am so damn lonely that the thought of going through one more hour, minute sickens me. I want to be free of this nightmare that won’t go away, how much longer I can endure this life remains to be seen. Biggest fear, screwing it up again and living worse off than I feel I am now. If there’s no such thing as a perfect crime then there’s no such thing as a perfect self inflicted exit, or is there?
I, I, I, that word urg but I am sorry. I’ve wanted to be done with this hell on earth for years, I’m too afraid to try again and NOT succeed. I lay in bed all day, everyday hating life, wondering why I’m still here, not sleeping at night and thinking so much that my head feels like it’s going to explode… I’ve become someone I don’t know or like, if I weren’t here, no one would notice…I just don’t care anymore… And I need a hug so badly it hurts.
I don’t know how much of my rant makes sense, it’s all over the place which is indicative of where my heads at. Thanks for reading, sorry for the overwhelming use of “I”, don’t much expect a response, don’t really need one, just needed to vent. <3
So I stoped talking to my parents if I can avoid it. I am going through that idea of geting my emotional independence, so if one day I do decide to put an end to this whole thing then they will be used to not having me around.
I am in a period of time when I am all alone again. My friends left the country (mine is one of those countries you always want to leave) and they are organizing their own lives. Good for them.
I was thinking that maybe this is how life is supposed to be : you grow up and learn you can’t have all you wanted, that humans are lonely beings and that rutine and monotony are just a part of living. So you live with this little ackward feeling that disguises itself to pretend to be a void in your chest, but that is actually made of all your disappointments shouting at the same time.
I have this feeling, like there is this one part of my head I just can’t reach. Maybe there is where my sanity lies.
I am sad today, not depressed, just really sad. I wish someday I can just sit with someone and talk and breath. Not worrying about the moment he or she has to leave, and not knowing they actually want to be somewhere else. I just want to spend a moment with someone that may really want to be with me.
Its so hard to hold everything in. You want to scream all the time but you cant because you dont want people to hear you. You just put a smile on your face and pretend like everything is ok and you dont notice whats going on. You pray everyday to just disappear, and you wait for so long just have everything blow up in your face.
Your worth something, and if you have to be the only person who cares about yourself then so be it. It might be hard, and you might need help sometimes, but its not impossible. You just have to keep working at it. Please dont give up, you will be ok.
Do you know what’s the worst thing about suicide?
It isn’t making the decision.
It isn’t buying the things you need.
It isn’t writing those letters to your loved ones.
It isn’t booking the hotel room, so your loves ones doesn’t find your body making it worse.
It’s not even the preparation: putting everything on the table, so you have everything in one place and you just need to sit down and start. Oh no.
The worst thing is when you plan everything, you do everything and 36 hours later you f_cking wake up looking like shit, pale, and you have to go home and pretend like nothing happened.
It’s not the first time and not the last.
Always laughing, Always dying
Always living, Always crying
Always helping, Always running
Always surrounded, Always lonely
Always doing, Always tired
Always happy, Always cutting
It’s always tiring separating the person you are to the person you pretend to be.
” I cant pretend that i’m okay; I can’t fake it anymore I’m hopeless I’m helpless and I’m scared I’m never going to be happy anymore.”
I’m back. Living, and back. I thought by now I would have atleast tried to kill myself. To rid myself of the tortures of life and anxiety and depression. It’s haunts me everyday, and I don’t know how to fix myself, because I’m broken. I’m not happy, I don’t have dreams, I can’t live a normal life. I put on a fake smile at school, and pretend like I’m happy. I try to talk to new people, I try to get them to like me. But I will never be accepted. I’m weak, and broken.
I live in my room, and play the violin to keep myself busy. I do my homework, and make straight A’s. I take school seriously, and I try to look like a good student. I make my parents proud, or at least I think I do. I eat healthy food, and play sports. I look like a normal teenager, I act like one, but I’m broken, and they can’t fix me.
lets pretend for one minute that i am happy, that the smile on my face is real and the cuts on my wrist are there. wait i cant do that. i cant think of me ever being happy and that kills me.
Why is it that when you fix one problem another one appears…why is it people just can’t understand that it’s all pointless..who makes up shit like this…I hate waking up feeling like…I hate being imperfect…I hate that god chose me to live this pathetic life…I FUCKING hate it…and no matter how many time I try fix it I still wind up back in this same box….I really want to know when does it end…when do happiness come for me…when can I smile because it’s genuine…I just don’t know what to do anymore…I just don’t know how to pretend anymore…I just don’t know what they want from me anymore…I have nothing..I am nothing…why deny it…
My whole life, I never valued friends. 90% of the time I don’t want to talk to anyone, and when I need a friend I just go pretend to be some awesome, funny guy, and get some friends. Temporary ones, friends I can use to satisfy my desire for companionship, and later ignore. I drop the formal language, long words, and complicated sentences. I hate the modern english language. It’s so bland. Meh. HAHA, meh. I guess I don’t hate it as much as I claim I do. Ah well.
I hate to admit it, but I’m p lonely rn. Ah well. Here’s a song.
*note to self: stop saying “ah well” so much.
Can’t take feeling this anymore. Unacceptable. Gotta change something. Do something.
So, what’s holding me back from living a worthwhile life?
Well, superficially, there’s all the minor health issues. Just enough to make me uncomfortable most of the time, without actually being severe enough to deserve medical attention (not that most of them are curable anyway.) Either my skin problems are flaring up. Or my stomach problems. Or my allergies. Or my insomnia. Or my back problems. The combination means I never feel well.
On top of that, there’s all the little embarrassing physical inadequacies (both real and perceived.) Because I need more reasons to feel inferior.
But let’s put all that to one side, and look deeper.
There’s this crippling fear. Terror. That I’ll never be able to really relate or connect with anyone. That I just can’t be real, or honest. Because the truth is awful. The truth is I don’t deserve to live. I’m worthless, and I don’t deserve any kindness or respect. I don’t deserve to be involved in anyone’s life.
And I don’t feel I can forget that, and pretend. I’m not a psychopath. I can’t consciously manipulate people, or deceive them. So I have to keep them at a distance, so that they don’t see the truth.
But how to change all that? Part of it is just integral to me. I’ve always felt awkward and self-conscious. Which then leads to fear that others will see me as inferior. I’ve always been weird, and found odd things appealing. I’ve always had difficulty relating, and been incredibly introverted.
Building on that, I’ve essentially wasted the last 10 years of my life. At 28, I have less confidence, less hope, and fewer resources than I did when I was 18. As an adult, I have failed in pretty much every regard. Even more for me to feel insecure about, and hide. How could anyone see what a pathetic inadequate coward I’ve been and still want anything to do with me? Pity is the best I could hope for, but all I deserve is scorn.
But beyond even that, there’s the things I’ve done, and wanted to do, that are just terrible. And I know that if anyone knew, they would despise me. So in order to get close to anyone, I have to deceive them. I have to pretend that I’m not this worthless, pathetic monster.
And knowing that increases the fear. I will be wronging anyone I allow myself to care about. And I know that will eat at me. Any relationship I build will be a lie. I will always be performing, rather than enjoying the moment or feeling actually cared for by anyone.
Still, maybe that’s preferable to the pain of isolating myself, watching a meaningful life pass me by. Maybe it’s preferable to death.
Whenever I enter close personal relationships with anyone, be it best friends or romantic partners, I always make promises I can’t keep. True. That is because I wear my heart on my sleeve, and that is usually a good thing. I do it because I don’t really have much of a heart, so I take whatever little heart I have and combine it with a lot of metal and plastic and scraps of junk, and pretend that’s my heart. To most people it looks like a super big heart. But anyone who knows me eventually sees that who I pretend to be and who I am are two entirely different things.
Anyways, I make promises I can’t keep. But just because I break one promise, does that mean all the times I’ve kept my word should just be forgotten? That the ideal I’m trying to embody should just be ignored? Thrown out the window? If it does, then I accept my role as a villain in the eyes of former friends and lovers.
If not, then why am I treated like this? Where did the trust go? I accept the fact that I’m a poisonous snake, but I’m still the closest animal there is to a dragon. I’ve deserve a lot of stuff, karma for my past misdeeds. But I don’t think I deserve this. At this point, I’m just being shunned for being who I am.
People always talk big and say “oh, we don’t discriminate due to race, or gender, or looks. We don’t discriminate, period.” Everywhere I go, everyone I meet professes values of equality.
But everyone discriminates based on what’s inside. Who you are is not something you can change. I can’t fix who I am; I can only pretend to be the man I want to be. Why does everyone focus on who I am? Why is that so important? It’s so unfair! I know I’m being petulant, but it’s just so, so, so so so so so unfair.
Discriminate based on intentions. Discriminate based on desires, on actions, on misdeeds, on values. These things should define a person. Not what they feel. Not what they think, what they repress. What they hide.
That’s exactly it. That is exactly it. The part of me that I hide from the world is exactly the part that matters most to everyone. The moment I slip up, the moment someone sees it, I’m branded a villain. Again. And again. And again.