Why is it so hard to understand? I have depression, but I don’t want to be fixed or cured or given “coping stratergies” (ugh). I just want to die. That’s why I don’t go to counselors any more, or talk to my friends or family about this: they assume I actually want to get better and treat me as such. It’s an assumption that would make sense for a healthy human being, but clearly that’s not me. I’m sick of being told that “It gets better!” by people who don’t understand my problems, and in many cases are the cause of them in the first place. I just want to die.
I don’t know who I am or what I want in life, because I never found an identity for myself: I’m just drifting along without any purpose or meaning. I hate my body: every single part of it is absolutely disgusting. The worst part of it all is my voice: when I speak I can see people making up assumptions of who I am in my head, and I absolutely abhor it. I try to speak as little as I can now, and I’ve actively tried to destroy my voice by physically damaging my larynx about one a month for the past three years. Unfortunately for me my body is quite resilient, so nothing has happened so far.
So my mind is void of personhood and I hate my body. That’s already enough to persuade me that there’s no point in continuing to struggle though human stupidity and natural challenges, but there’s more: I’m not good. I’m intrinsically a disgusting, lazy person, and have taken advantage of my mother, my family, my friends, and my teachers. I just take money, time, and energy from them in my fruitless attempts to find an identity, to no avail. I mislead them by saying I really enjoy things when I don’t, and try to stick with those things because I don’t want to seem like a failure. I don’t deserve their help, and I wish that they would just save themselves the pain and let me go already.
It’s not like I have the power to change my place in life either: I’ve tried to use logic and rationality on enough people to know that it’ll never work: people just don’t care. It really is a bloodthirsty world outside when we gleefully celebrate sending people to their deaths on a daily basis, ignore massacres of thousands of people by terrorists because it happened in another country, or by making people suffer for just being themselves and trying to survive. Why should I try to struggle through all of this when I already recognise that I’m not only a bad person, but that I’m not even a complete person. What’s the point? It’s not like there’s a prize at the end of the tunnel, only a slow degradation into old age and the death that eventually claims us all. Why should I stick around and suffer, only to meet the same fate anyway?
And then I get told by a registered psychologist to use a fucking stress ball and to splash my face with cold water when I feel like this, AS IF THAT WOULD FUCKING SOLVE THE PROBLEM. These are the sort of retarded pieces of shit who think that I’m some innocent person who needs to be helped. They feed me all this bullshit about things getting better, and sometimes I believe them, only to be let down.
It’s funny, because even though I want to end this pathetic excuse for a life so badly, I know I’ll just turn off my computer and go to sleep, like the sack of human shit that I am. I hope I kill myself soon, but I’d probably fuck that up too.