Taken from Robert Crumb’s Plunge Into The Depths Of Despair (1983)
And if anyone wants these comic strips in a PDF form:
Did I plan on being dead by now? Yes.
Am I ready? Yes.
Then I got the phone call. A shot at a job in my field. I have to take it.
It was easier when I could add up all the pain. The lifelong depression, the disconnection from relationships, the alien-like quality of being in my own body and mind, and to top it off: my career at a standstill.
It made it perfect timing to leave.
This job won’t make me happy. I already know the routine. Nothing will ever make me want to live.
But if I get this, maybe I can muddle through a little while longer for my family’s sake. They mean the world to me and I would hate to ruin them.
Now that I may not be forced into a corner, I can really think about this.
Might as well give it a go. Death will always be waiting.
It was one of these surreal sleeps I have. I am dreaming but in my dream it’s like I am awake. I can’t move or talk. I almost wonder if I had a seizure. I eventually wake up really out of it and it takes a while for me to get back to sleep. There are always some sort of vibrations, this time it was violent chills in my arms. I guess I would call it a vivid dream. I have probably had 4 or 5 of these that I actually remember. All within the past 20 years. They always scare me. Mainly because I think they could be seizures. Has anyone heard of such a thing as a sleep seizure? I don’t take any medication that could cause such a thing. I was so tired this morning and struggled through my morning routine and I can’t help to think it’s related. I have enough trouble sleeping and need to sleep well to keep sane. My doctor’s already think I’m a hypochondriac. This stuff messes with me bad.
Another day living in this disenchanted society. In society I am not enchanting. In society I have to live a certain way and look a certain way. I cannot fit into this category. I can barely live. I am turning insane. I want to drop out of this cruel life I live in vain.
I am extremely exhausted of being in this world. So much is asked of me. On the outside is nothing but me and I am nothing to me. I hate walking around pretending to be like everybody else. I hate the falseness. Society is one false sob. Every single person idolized is full of it. Plastic surgery, implants, Botox. To all this hierarchy of bullshit I have failed. Real is identified by these everyday feelings other people like myself have felt. I hate the routine everyday life I live. No one around me has a clue how difficult it is to try to fit in to this false life I live everyday.
Have you ever wanted to be something and worked hard only to have all of your hard work go towards nothing at all. Feeling like a lost cause. Feeling ill like nothing at all. I’ve tried and tried and I am lost in life my demons terrorizing my mind….
I know a girl
She draws on
with blades instead
It all began when
she was eight.
She wondered why?
Why would he look at her like that?
Why would she let him?
She often thought:
“She loves me”
But deep down
She’s never loved her
And never will
The only one that
Truly loves her
Is Mr. Sharp.
He makes her happy.
He helps her forget about THEM.
When her skin
And her demons
Oh there’s no better
Feeling than that.
But the feeling goes away!
“NO! come back!” she yells.
But not even
Pain wants her.
And that hurts like hell.
People always believe
The “I’ll kill you” stare
And the “go away “routine.
really cares to
To look into her eyes
And see her broken heart.
To see the scars on her
Wrists and thighs.
They don’t care!
No one really does!
I should know
I’m that girl.
Yup. totally and utterly numb.
It feels like someone has turned off a switch in my head and switched on autopilot mode. I am doing daily chores, smiling and talking to family, going to work and coming back home, cook meals, and cut.
Its like a routine and for last two weeks I cut on my thighs (so that my hubby wont see) every other day just to make sure that I am still alive. The pain is the only reminder left of life.
Oh how I wish, this routine would include studying… I am at the verge of being thrown out of my PhD, both my supervisors extremely frustrated with my lack of progress. I have a meeting with them tomorrow, to discuss what I did in last month. I did None, Zilch, Zero progress. I should be writing right now, something, anything, for the meeting and I am here. I am trying to but the overwhelming sense of fear has reached the point where I just gave up. I just feel numb, staring at my laptop’s screen.
I thought that I was losing control, that either I would eventually snap or people around me would realise that I am worthless. But with each passing day, with each drop of blood and each new scar, all these stupid feelings are fading in to nothingness. I know my parents will be disappointed, me and my husband will have to go back to our country, I know that I am losing precious time… But… I just cant… Lost control of my body, its in autopilot and I am nothing.
Sometimes I scare myself. At first I don’t realize what I’m doing. I tend to change reactions and emotions quickly. I’m bipolar. When I’m alone and calm , I can control myself, until I experience episodes of anger and sadness. These episodes result in me cutting myself or swallowing 30+ pills, or just guzzling down vodka.
I’m having more frequent thoughts of harming myself lately. Its like I’m an addict who is in remission but is being tempted. My friends have tried with me repeatedly to get me to stop self harming but I just can’t
People just don’t understand that suicidal thoughts and self harm are addictive just like actual drugs or cigarettes . Similarly to how a smoker who smokes in excess can’t just stop smoking on queue, I can’t either. Sometimes its not as easy as it sounds.
Like many aspects of our daily routine, self harm and suicide attempts are acquired tasks. For some breaking routine is difficult. Self harm and suicide attempts are like eating, brushing or eating. For some, a day without thinking of how to harm themselves or actually do it.
I wounder everyday, for what reason have I been put on this planet, why was I born – what difference am I making to this shitty world? The struggle for everyday survival, the 9-5 deadbeat job and the same constant fucking routine; that we call everyday life.
I can’t move on, there’s nothing to look forward to anymore, nothing to smile, care, love and be happy about; Just pain, misery loneliness. I walk down the street, see happy people all around me, couples holding hand – kissing, children playing etc. The people who helped destroy my relationship, the ones who I once called friends – all fucking happy, but me.
i can’t do this anymore, thought I was on the path to getting better.. I just want to die
I don’t know if I love you anymore. I mean, I do love you, but I don’t know if I love you like I used to. After four years together, maybe we’re just in a rut or routine. I enjoy doing things with you–going places, playing games, conversing, but I don’t feel romantically drawn to you anymore. I also don’t feel drawn to anyone else though either. I still love you as a person, but not as a lover most of the time. I don’t know if you’re holding back romantically to let me deal with my issues, or because you’re feeling the same. I just don’t understand this. Maybe it’s just me though, and my mental issues. I don’t want anyone else romantically, including you. So maybe my depression is hindering my ability to crave intimacy or to feel as strongly towards you as before. But when I tell you I love you, I still mean it with everything I am and have, even though that’s not a whole lot.
I don’t know what I feel towards anything. Everything is so unclear. I don’t know what to do and I’m sorry. You deserve better and I’m selfish for allowing you to stay with me..
So I’m 64 now and my whole life has gone by and I’ve got nothing to show. I’m still living in my parents house. I never left. I can’t afford my own apartment because I don’t have a job. I haven’t worked in over 27 years. I still havn’t had a single boyfriend at my age. I just live in my own little bubble. Get up, watch some YouTube. Go back to sleep is my routine. I am a fat slob because I have no motivation to get out of the house.
Okay so I’m not 64 yet but this is practically my life as it is today. I am getting older and older and I can’t seem to change myself anytime soon. I think I was born with this curse of a phenotype which makes me incredibly lazy, depressed and non-social. I know because I’ve been like this ever since I was a kid and it is so hard for me to do otherwise. My quality of life is so poor right now, and it’s just a cycle that goes round and round.
It’s been 3 minutes since I walked through the front door and I’m in tears.
i knew I should’ve stayed outside, it took me a while to convince myself to come inside anyways.
I walked through the door and the second I do my dad tell me to hurry up and put my backpack down and go see him.
i went to go see my dad and he said he has stuff for me to do, I told him he has to hurry because i have a lot of homework tonight and he automatically got mad at me and started yelling at me saying I’m selfish and that I’m rude and disrespectful. I don’t understand. I just told him that I don’t have time to be doing other things.
I walk to my room and just break down. I’ve already had a shitty day at school but somehow that is a perfect day compared to being in this house. He never stopped yelling at me, he still is right now.
This is a daily routine and I’m not sure how much longer I can live with this. I’m miserable at school and even more at home. I have nothing to look forward to anymore.
Hey everyone! I’m still in a barely good shape and still crying for things that shouldn’t even make you feel sad but I decided that I’ll go back writing. Well, it will probably be a run on whether I get crushed by the felling of panic or success to finish this first though.
But I decided that since I only have this I should at last risk it. As long as I can continue I’ll go back to my old routine of being crushed and get up again and again. I might be here a little less but I’ll probably come back time to time! I’m really happy that I met you guys and I which you luck!
It is tough for me to explain and on the added front, it is tough for other people to understand as well. In the end, I am another person who wants to die but at the same time hangs on.
I definitely did not grow up “usual”. I grew up best described as isolated on a farm. I am the youngest. I have two older siblings, a sister (5 years older) and a brother (7 years older). We attended church and I attended Sunday school which was the sole social interaction that I had for my first 5 or so years of life. It was extremely rare for much more social contact than that. There was not any routine social interaction with other people–no relatives, aunts, uncles, or friends. At my age 5 I started kindergarten and was finally exposed to other children on a routine basis. I took to school and kindergarten pretty well though it was a little overwhelming at first. Any friends that I made at school had to stay at school; I was not able to bring any friends to the farm.
With the above said, that was my routine for the first 16 years of my life. I couldn’t understand fellow students lives–visiting with people, sleepovers, visits with aunts and uncles, etc. As time progressed I became inward at school, just trying to get by. Yes, I was picked on. For whatever reason I tried to keep a smile on face thinking that “it’ll get better”.
My father was (is) emotionally absent. He, for whatever reason, didn’t spend much, if any, time with his children. Such routine activities such as playing/teaching hockey, playing ball, helping and guiding his children. All absent. To add things, he generally didn’t speak to his children directly but rather send communiques to his children through our mother. Visa versa is true where, at least for me, I would communicate to my father through my mother.
My mother was (is) overly religious and because of this listening to music on the radio was forbidden and was seen as evil. Television wasn’t as limited per se as long as we watched educational programming and/or children’s programs. My mother kept a firm grip on her family and overtime became emotionally abusive toward my father. I am not sure when it started but my mother would do such things as purposely hide the television remote from my father, prevent him from eating certain things from the fridge (though her children did not have the same restriction), would not permit him to eat snack foods (though, similar too, her children did not have the same restriction), restrict the satellite channels on television that he could watch (children could watch whatever). My mother would also talk with me about her methodology–she would also complain and go on about how poor of a father he is. Such activities still occur to this day so I am told. My mother would also “do stuff” to exclude my father from family activities–grocery shopping for example.
With the isolation, I don’t think it needs to be said that my parents were recluse–also known as hermits.
At my age 16 I was socially withdrawn. I still went to school and graduated. I was the quiet one. I am not entirely sure what kept me going–I still ask that myself. I never could quite understand the social networking, how other kids would socialize with such ease–create new friends, navigate the social playing field, etc. I can reasonably say that I was “alright” when I was in an element that I was familiar–school and home. Anything out of these I was overwhelmed but tried to maintain calmness. I went to a few parties–I tried–but oftentimes was made fun of quite bad; I was the quiet one.
I did end up going to college and ended up obtaining a career with a bank which started to open my eyes to the things that I never had an opportunity to see and experience growing up. Perhaps call it an awakening? I spent much of my 20s in mental flux–trying my best to make sense of everything, trying to connect the dots. I still lacked a social life as this was painfully difficult. For those who grew up socialized, socialization isn’t necessarily difficult.
Looking at my life from an overview standpoint, I have toughed much of it out. I have had to do so many things myself. Figure things out myself. I should have asked for help but didn’t–there was a rule that we weren’t to talk about life on the farm so asking for help would have been detriment.
I have been passive-suicidal since my approximate age 16; I am 34 now. I have asked the question to myself over and over: To be or not to be? I have struggled through so much. I have tried so no one can say that I didn’t. I live alone. I am estranged from my family. I have mental issues which can be attributed to my youth: social anxiety/aversion. I am heavily medicated. I technically work but am presently on disability–things just got too much. There is more that I can add but I don’t see any point.
I have spoken to different professionals. My youth has been compared to being cult-like. I come from a very dysfunctional family, a disillusioned mother, an emotionally absent father, and social isolation that is close to (if not is) severe. But yet I have trudged on. I have. I have tried. I suffer now from my own mind. Suicide is a daily thought. I have explained it to mental health professionals the suicide thoughts–at the end of the day no matter how far along I come with my own development I can never get back that what is lost. People who grow up with a background similar to mine oftentimes spend the remainder of their lives struggling, trying to figure things out. For me I ask myself what the point to is (figuring things out and continuing to mentally struggle) if we just die in the end. We are born to die, what experiences we have during our lifetime is irrelevant. While people around me today perhaps find my existence relevant, looking into the future perhaps a 100 years to what degree was my existence relevant. I understand and realize that every action that we do has an inherent cause and effect and my existence may have somehow influenced someone else to do something resulting in a infinite cataclysm of cause and effects. I have struggled for so many years. I am tired–oh so very tired. I want to cease to exist but not die.
I’m the kind of person that get really get attach to someone who cares for me. Like if we start talking for a while and becomes a routine it’ll become like a part of me. So eventually, when you decide out of the blue that your going to leave and not say a word it’s going to hurt, of course not knowing what i did or didn’t do that made you run away from me of fucking course that it’s going to hurt. Because the other night it was all laughing smiles and love and now it’s ( i don’t even think i can name it cause it’s in-existent ). There’s nothing here while way back then they where everything. Please tell me what i did wrong, why did you run away. You weren’t the first one to run away, but i don’t know, with you everything was extraordinary i even think i found a little happiness in our friendship. I thought that it was different this time that everything would’ve been okay but i guess that whenever i find happiness it never seems to last, and for the number of time this as happen i should’ve learn from now.
i am more then a year very suicidal,im just suffer,empty.
i have a good life,hobbies,good friends ,im not rich but i can get want i want,good grades in school (high school) and have a weekly routine.
i read all the advice and nothing works for me (except a psychologist that i havent tried).
i promised to my girlfriend to not do it but it feels impossible, i start to realy lose myeslf.
what to do?
sory for my shitty english grammer .
Two years ag, I lived in Switzerland for a couple of months, working as an au-pair. I was in a small village, in the middle of the Alps.
Living there, the landscape, the routine with the kids, it made me feel so peaceful, that I desired to stay that way forever.
One day, I visited Sion, the capital of the canton of Valais.
After walking around that quiet and both modern and old town, I found a place where the town just stops and give space to the nature. It’s a big square, and just in front of it, all those flowering cherry trees. At the sides, two hills. One of them has a castle in the top, the other one has an abbey.
I just laid there for a while, listening to the silence, looking the landscape, feeling the gentle breeze and that little bit of the mountain sun. All that peace I never felt (even if I also live in a precious place with mountains and cherry trees).
Then, I took off my shoes (they weren’t ok to climb and I didn’t want to fall) and I went to the castle. Up there, looking to the precipice, I made a decision: if I ever wanted to kill myself it will be there. If the peace of being there don’t make me feel alive, at least I would die in such a beautiful place.
Do you have a place?
Why am I alone? I am overwhelmed with bitter regret and anger. Everybody has some big blotch of the past they want to delete, there’s no such person who has had a perfect, sugar coated life. I selfishly think that I have it so bad, nobody can relate to me. I am wrong. My peers who put on a happy demeanor have their own skeletons; they seem to know how to function without the past disrupting their routine. I don’t know what went on in their lives. I sit there and in my mind I snicker, thinking these people are so young and naive. I don’t think it’s true. I think I’m different because I haven’t figured out any way of coping like them. It’s almost like I need to belittle the rest of them because I am the champion of sulking and nobody shall surpass me…because it’s the one thing I am good at.
Damn man, this seems like routine. I remember when I said “things get better”… Well, sweet sweet irony. I guess I ate my words huh?
I feel horrible again, and I don’t know anymore if it’s my fault or if it’s someone else’s. I feel alone, waaay worse than before. I can’t go back to cutting, and I can’t say a god fucking word to anyone. I’m lost…
I’ve realized that nothing amuses me or makes me happy. My life is becoming a boring routine. I’m in college and yes, I have different classes every day but it’s all the same to me.
Today, I woke up at 5:20. I don’t drive so I have to rely on someone who has their own business to drop me off. I went to class, where I almost fell asleep in. Now I have this huge gap, 4 hours, until my last class. I have no friends here. I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t mind it but it gets boring. Then I’ll most likely go home and listen to my mom complain about how I’m useless and stupid. Then I’ll do my homework and clean. Lock myself in my room, cutting. Finally maybe falling asleep to wake up to the same routine.
I literally hate who I am. Everything about myself makes me angry. That’s why I’m so easily irritated by everything. I’m not comfortable in my own skin. The bathroom in my college has long, never ending mirrors. I glanced at myself as I passed by and I felt the urge to just cut myself. Of course, I didn’t, there were other girls in the bathroom too.
I really just want to die. I see no point in my life. It would be so easy to just fall asleep and never wake up. To not have people stare at me because of my careless and depressed look. I look exactly the way I feel. I’m just over this whole “things will get better” bullshit.
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