My suicide note. I’m still working on it. I’m still waiting for help even though I know I’m only fake hoping. I don’t have a purpose anymore. Living is a torture every single day. I set myself a date. I planned everything. I’m pretty hopeless.
Anyways. Here you go, enjoy? I don’t know. Do whatever you want to do with this:
Hey. It’s me. I’m that shitty girl who killed herself because she’s a weak-ass depressed kid who’s only great at complaining and seeking for attention. You probably heard about me now, you’re probably gossiping about it. Anyways, I’m writing this letter because soon enough I’ll be gone. And soon enough drama will come, people will care, blaming themselves for not caring at all. Soon enough, people will question everything, and ask why. Oh wait, not soon enough. I forgot, I’m already dead, has drama started yet? How’s it? Don’t worry okay? This is going to be fun, we’re going to get through this. Word by word. Letter by letter. I’m going to tell you, why I ended my life. You see, I experienced the worst pain. A pain you could never imagine how hurtful it is. Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. A pain that caused me to say that it’s easier to end my life, than live a life I never wanted, a life that I didn’t choose. The life that made myself… me. What do you expect me to do? How do I react if I never felt like my life is worth living?
So hey, I know some cared. I may hate myself, maybe I’m quite stupid, maybe what they say is indeed true. But I think people actually cared, just not enough. Is that right? Well, forget it. I will never know anyway, well literally because you can’t tell me after, I’m still dead. You see, I hate not knowing what to believe anymore. I hate not knowing what’s real. Maybe I just wanted someone to actually care and maybe that someone, approach me for once, and say, “Hey, are you going to kill yourself? Please no, please I care. Please don’t do that. I’m not going to leave you until you beat this.” Well, I guess that’s not gonna happen. It’s never gonna happen. In reality, it’s only my words anyway. To be honest though, someone actually said something similar, but they didn’t stay, they didn’t actually cared. They lend me a hand, the next day they thought everything was already fine. There’s no drama, therefore they let me fall. They said they miss me, but never made an effort to contact me, to ask how I’m doing?. I’m always the one who approaches them. They never knew what’s going on with my life, they never knew me at all. Isn’t that right friends? Bullshit. Lies.
People are stupid. I know I am too, but when it comes to reality and not just those shit they teach at school, they’re hopeless. You guys never understood suicide, you never will. Not until you become one like me and end up being a fucked-up, am I right? You think just because I don’t have a big reason to kill myself, just because I don’t have cancer or whatever shitty worse problems other people have, they’re the only ones that has the right to suicide. That only they’re allowed to use a rope, a gun, or a blade to kill themselves. It’s not how it works. Suicide doesn’t work like that. You can’t expect me to have the same tolerance level as yours. I have my own tolerance of pain too. Just because you didn’t felt what I felt, just because you see my pain as a small problem, doesn’t mean you’re stronger than I am?. I see it as something so hurtful. Depression is a silent killer. It doesn’t mean that if you can’t? see or feel it, it isn’t there. No, you can’t call me weak just like you fucking did. Like what you guys fucking did just because I’m scared of the pain. You can’t call yourself strong just because you can live your shitty life and that others like me decided to end theirs too. That I decided to end mine. It makes you a fucking coward. It makes you an asshole. You have no idea how much I tried to fight before I even gave up. You never knew me, you only see me as someone who lost a fight. The same as how you fucking called? me stupid, you guys don’t know how hard I was trying. Instead of helping me you guys decided to call me stupid. Shouted at me. Embarrassed me in front of the class. ‘Teachers’? Yeah right. But hey I can’t blame you though, instead, I’m going to live up with the title stupid. Oh wait, not live up, because I’m dead. I died, I died with the label stupid. They will remember me as a stupid piece of shit, a pain in the ass. Thanks for helping me destroy everything, my confidence, myself. I learned that I really am hopeless, I know that now.
You see (*insert names*). When people are different; More specifically, different from you. You instantly think they’re a disgrace, a thing that you can just throw around not knowing they have feelings too. That when, for example, a girl fucking had sex with someone in her teenage years, they’re already a slut. And if they don’t agree with you, you immediately label them as, assholes and ignorants. The funny thing is though, you guys are one of the most ignorant assholes I’ve ever met. Wake the fuck up, you’re not the basis of normality. People like you don’t deserve to be praised. You are no different from people who actually killed somebody. You won’t get anything from backstabbing, you won’t get anything from bullying others. The moment you judged other people; that moment when you judged me. You killed my soul. You killed my individuality. You killed me. Society killed me. You guys kill suicidal people. You destroyed me just because I was being myself.
I killed myself because nobody made me feel alive. Nobody saved me from dying, you didn’t try hard enough. When you guys are killing me, when I was dying. It just never stops. The worst thing is though, it also gets worse every second. Don’t worry. You guys aren’t alone, the world itself is a fucked up. You guys see me as a happy little shit. I smiled at you, told you how my day ‘went well’. I even tried approach you when you were fucking sad and cheer you up. Some pushed me away but that didn’t stopped me from helping, from being friends with you. You even saw my biggest smile, heard my loudest laugh. I’m quite disappointed to see on how stupid you are. You never saw me behind those. Did you even care? Because I’m a lonely ass person who relied on my fake friends. You don’t even know me, you never asked how I’m doing. You never tried to contact me just to fucking catch up. You miss me? Fuck you. You never knew what was going on with me. You never knew I’m depressed, you were supposed to be there when I needed it. You were supposed to call me because I was suicidal or because I was cutting myself again, because I was fucking attempted so many goddamn times to end my life. Oh, you didn’t know that? I never knew what to do or how to deal with depression. You were supposed to help me but nobody bothered to. Isn’t that what friends are for? Family then? No? Well I know what exactly friends are for. You aren’t friends. I’m so fucking lucky to even find real friends across the world. They’re fucking across the world, countries away from me. But I trust them more than you guys. And I never trusted anyone for so long because you broke my trust. You broke my spirit. Now you care because it’s too late. Now tell me if I’m still your laughingstock. But don’t worry, I don’t give a fucking damn anymore. I tried to understand you, because I know behind your attitude are people in their shitty lives. I tried to understand you guys, if I didn’t, then you probably end up like me. And you have no idea how painful it is.
Sometimes I wonder if really did wasted my life, if I should’ve done this sooner. Because right now, society is a mess. Society is an asshole. Everyone is an ignorant. If you knew that someone is gay, you immediately criticize them, and laugh at them for being themselves. You make the word ‘gay’ feel like it’s an insult. And quote something like they will go to hell because god told them not be gay, because being gay is a sin technically. Nobody seemed to care. If there’s someone with depression asked for help, you see them as just seeking for attention. You will tell them to just get over it, move the fuck on because it’s that easy isn’t it? In the end, if they ended their lives, you now suddenly care, you give ‘sympathy’ towards them because they decided to end the pain. You fucking hypocrites?. You guys care when it’s too late. You only act when it’s over. You’re gonna wait until suicidal people die before you move. And you think this is a phase? You think depression and suicide is phase? Well it’s? not. WAKE. UP. You can’t get over depression. It’s not a shitty ass thing that you can get over with this overwhelming pills that my psychiatrist told me to take. Suicide is real, and you can’t stop it. It always pull you back no matter how hard you try to run. Because you know, it was my problem at first. But unexpectedly, it became my last solution.
It was depression that killed the remaining happiness I had left, but it was the same thing that keeps me going. Most of the time? I just want to die, to disappear until there are no ashes, no trace of my existence would be left. To be just nothing, as I am now. But the nothingness wouldn’t be overwhelming. As if I never existed. I always think that life was just a joke that I had to deal with. It’s like a prank I need to face everyday. The more I encounter it, the more it makes me sick. Then later on I wouldn’t notice that I’m already tired of it. Although I would feel that I can’t escape it, and believe my brain that this is indeed inescapable.
Everytime, I’m gonna wish I was dead, that I’m already dead inside. Most of the time, it hardly matters to people. So everyone will think I’m just some attention-seeker who just wants to feel comforted. Yeah, ridiculous right? I’ve been like this for nine years, I never asked nor wanted them to pity me or just tell me everything’s gonna be fine because I knew, deep down those were lies. And back then I had to do everything alone, because I knew no one cared. They’d just pity me then later on when they see me laugh, they’re gone like everything was fine already. It doesn’t work like that, but that’s the sad truth. I had to learn to be alone, I have to learn how reality works. I needed to learn the fact that no one will ever come to save me when one day, I just decided to end my life. Nobody’s coming to tell me to eat my untouched meal, nor stop me from self-harming. Because nobody knew, nobody cared.
The moment my in real life ‘friends’ asked why I pity myself so much that I decided to harm my body that covered my ugly soul. They started telling me everything will be alright, but I knew when I started to turn my back they’re laughing at my sorrowful, miserable life. I knew that now. They asked me why nothing’s okay, hearing every word from that sentence is like they’re stabbing me with a knife repetitively, then they’re gonna ask me why I was dead.
The best way to pretend I was okay was to fool myself that I am. I harm myself, these bruises and scars, I got them from years of hurting myself. In every way possible. I hated my body so much, this was how I coped with it. Feeling the pain made felt better, but then lately it got worse. Scars became more visible, it was like I’m unstoppable?. Then later on, I’m already afraid of my body. So I hated it even more. Ironic isn’t it? I already hated it but I did things to hate it even more. I still can’t stop self-harming, it became an addiction.
I came to that point where I saw how people treat other people, and see how messed up some things can be. I’ve been called a weirdo a thousand times by my schoolmates, some of the times even my own family, that doesn’t affect me though, I loved being weird, unless they make it as some kind of a disgusting thing to be as. My nickname has been stupid eversince I started to go to school. My schoolmates weren’t just the people who called me that, even my teachers do. My family would shame my body, about how I ‘never’ eat at all. They’d tell me of how much of a freak I am. My classmates barely talk to me, they think I’m a crazy person. This is not a childish game wherein you’d bully the other cause they’re messed up. Then people would talk about forgiveness and spreading love. Hypocrisy, right? I don’t get it. I was facing my own battle everyday, fighting for my life, fighting myself for my own life. They think that killing mentally isn’t worse as killing someone physically. They’re no different from actual murderers. It’s the same thing. Whether you see it or not, it still affect one person’s life. It affected me, a lot.
I’ve been trying to fit on society’s basis of normality. Everyone’s too busy to care about other people, even their family. The world changed a lot. I didn’t like this change.
I wished I was normal. I hated myself so much. I wish I could see the full picture of life, I wish I wasn’t blinded by society. I wish those words didn’t affect me. I wish I could be as carefree as other people tend to be. I wish didn’t give a damn about how everyone would think.
They changed me, the change they can never bring back once it’s done. They changed my perspective, I could never see the world in the same way again. Every little thing about me, whether I hated it or not, it made myself… me. Whether they did something messed up, said some harsh words, stabbed me with a knife, it’s the same. Every word they said stabbed every part of my existence. Blades may create scars, but words create a scar engraved within my soul that reminded me every single day of how there was one person who killed me in a way that no blood was shed but the pain could be felt.
Sometimes, I wish to end my existence in every way possible. I wanted to tell myself how awful of a person I am, like I was hoping that I’d gain consciousness, and maybe I would miraculously change who I am now, whilst I cut through my wrists. I just wanted to be gone. Not because nobody would miss my existence but I knew deep within how much of a failure I am, and that dying will lessen the intense pain that I feel inside of me. If only I was better, maybe I’d never beg for someone’s attention. Or maybe ask for someone’s time just so I can share how I’m feeling. Society might’ve accepted me for who I am.
Before we begin, some background. Last year, I graduated with a Master’s of Science in biology. This was made possible by a loving mother who brought me to Canada and financial support by its government. During this time I have managed to forge real friendships backed by common experience and mutual understanding, a first for the shy kid who would always find solace in his books. In short, I’m pretty privileged: healthy in mind and body, with a support network, and a small investment portfolio. I understand if you can’t sympathize with my situation. I won’t pretend that I know the challenges of having been abused, seeing loved ones suffer or die, or being diagnosed with distressful conditions physical or mental.
So what is the reason I am contemplating the ultimate contingency plan? It all boils down to unemployment. Finding the next step has been rather difficult and frustrating. I have managed to apply for a doctorate at another university, but that means I have nothing to do until September. If they accept me, of course. I find out in a month, along with whether I need to start paying back my student loans. My undergraduate degree left me with $30k of debt. Depending on the required monthly payment, I may not have enough savings to last until September. Going into more debt is a red line that I will not cross, and I am prepared to take drastic measures to prevent that. I have done everything that society has asked me to do, and I have nothing to show for it. More on this frustration at society later.
Now unemployment by itself shouldn’t make me feel this way. What of that support network? I live with mom, so I don’t need to pay rent (even though I used to contribute when I was employed, which is one of the things that really bother me). I do have my own personal expenses I need to take care of. I am grateful to have a roof over my head, but I wanted to leave. And I still want to leave. I have found that dear old mom has some qualities that I strongly disapprove of in people. She is unable to take responsibility for the negative consequences of her actions. Our current apartment is in a nice neighbourhood, and she complains about too much of her paycheck going to rent. She talks about how she moved for the sake of her sons, even though this was a unilateral decision on her part to get away from dad. She keeps going on expensive outdoor trips around the world, and then complains about not being able to save for retirement. It’s as if being a hardworking mother who has suffered much entitles her to live like the one percent. Without even going into the morality of such a system, it’s just not how this current society works. I owe my mother an insurmountable debt, but I want to avoid her. I have found her selfish, foolish, and cowardly.
Cowardly? Yes, as she is unable to discipline my brother and actively avoids said responsibility. Ah yes, my younger brother. Now here’s a real piece of work. Thinks highly of himself, even though he has accomplished little of value. Thinks he knows everything, even as he spouts stupidities such as employers prizing volunteer (read: unpaid) work over paid positions. Brags about how he knows a lot of people, even though he spends most evenings and weekends at home, parked in front of an electronic screen. If you did know a lot of people, then how come the only work you can find with your biology B.Sc. is part-time retail and general labourer positions? Thinks he is always right, even though he contributes nothing of value at home. Took a while for him to contribute a pittance towards the rent, then he stopped contributing even that (I predicted this would happen because of mom’s lack of authority). This despite buying himself expensive technical clothing, electronic devices, and even investments! As for home chores, nothing. Possibly even the opposite, with all the messes he leaves. The icing on the top of this rotten pastry is that he is indignant when challenged about these things. This psychopath is the other reason I want to leave this house.
I mentioned friends earlier. They are great, and I can’t ask for better. But they can’t help me with my problems and they can’t be there all the time. They have their own lives and I do not begrudge them that. Their company is just a salve on a gaping wound.
Burying myself in work was how I used to escape this home situation. But now I don’t even have that. I have heard nothing from positions I am completely qualified for. Even just a temporary position as a grocery merchandiser. It’s really grating working on applications that lead to nothing. I have done everything properly, and it’s not enough. It’s enough to make dark thoughts arise in my mind. That part of me is actually happy at current events. That incident in Quebec demonstrates that not even Canada is immune to the recent upheavals, which he finds very satisfying. He watches President Trump’s destabilizing actions with glee. He hopes that Trump will abrogate NAFTA, contracting the economies of the nations involved. Maybe other trade agreements as well. Why not involve the entire globe in a series of costly trade wars? He wishes for the election of Le Pen and other far-right leaders in Europe. Perhaps he will see the dissolution of NATO and the European Union. Let the current global order fall to pieces, he says. And Trump’s nuclear arms race rhetoric? Exciting! Maybe it will turn hot. Let this world burn. That part of me demands entertainment for the short amount of time he’ll be here. The other part of me is horrified, but is losing the ability to suppress this darkness. If this society will not allow me to participate in a meaningful way, then what do I care?
Maybe everything will work out in a month’s time. If it doesn’t, I have other things to look forward to. I always did want to see New York City and Washington, D.C. I envy you Americans. The Second Amendment is not just the right to bear arms, it is the right to an expedient end. Oh well, my 24th floor balcony is a decent backup. As much as I’d like to see Canada’s sesquicentennial (should be at least as good as the Philippine centennial, right?), I don’t think my savings or psyche can hold out that long. No point preparing for a future that won’t come. Time to live in the present.
Seems like i’m going to walk a little longer.
how long? no one knows, but after not having the balls to try and overdose myself it anti-depressants and pain killers for the third time i got caught by my Mother and she is not letting me out her sight and have locked every place with locks.
isnt it shameful, 20year old shut-in freak who cant even kill himself is now living a lie inside hes room and being watched all the time except when others sleep. the society doesnt even realise its destroying lives of hundreds and after that tells us its our fault and that it is us who is incorrect. that it is us who need to change.
and as it seems that there is no way to kill myself in near future as i’m literally made to sit on my computer all-day and being watched if i do something else than being in my room where there is no sharp or otherwise dangerous things… this life is not worth living… im 20 year old and im so ugly my family dont want world to see me, and still they make me live this hell they call life. i’m not a great speaker or writer, i’m not musician that would make the next “this is it”. im nobody. and as such i shall die. it doesnt matter if its this week or next year.
nothing will change.
still nothing but toys.
When it comes to tasks of any significance, I will always be inadequate. When it comes to intellect, I will always be severely lacking. I am however, skilled in unintentionally feigning adequacy or intelligence. This allows for people to believe that they can rely on me, which is inevitably followed by my inability to meet their expectations. This failure to contribute in any meaningful way to society is one among many reasons that I’ve mandated my own death.
has become more complicated. Face-to-face communication used to be vital, but now we can live our lives being online all day.
However, the truth of the matter is, we still need to see each other’s faces, read their expressions, hear their voices, so we can fully understand their emotions.
I’ve just started using this site so I’m not sure if anyone would know my story, but if you don’t here is the detailed you might need to understand the rest of my rant.
A year and three months ago, my lifelong best friend committed suicide. Since then, I have fallen into a multitude of bad habits, bad treatments, bad situations, bad moments, and really, just an overall bad life. All the friends I had left when she died. The only person I have right now is my boyfriend. Also, you might need to know I’m a cashier. Like I said, please excuse my rant and by no means do you have to read the garbage I create. If you do, thank you for doing so. Anywho, I’ll get on with my rant.
Please don’t ask me how I’m doing. All god damned day I will stand at my register and make simple conversation with those I check out just to make the day go faster. And every single person asks how I’m doing and every single time I respond with “I’m good!” yadda yadda. But in my head I always say “Well, I didn’t throw up this morning, I guess I’m decent” or “Well, sir or ma’am, I would just love to be dead right now.” And then, if family comes around or teachers or counselors or old friends who are bored talk to me, they always ask how I’m doing. I’m not okay!!! I haven’t been even near okay since she held a gun up to her head! Do you honestly think that a person who was so close to another that decided to blow her brains out is okay?? Tell me, are you stupid?
It has bothered me more how those around me that know my best friend died can ask such a stupid question. And to make it worse, when I say good, every single god damned one of them accept it like it’s true. And I know what you’rethinking right now. “Just tell them you’re not okay! Let out your feelings!” That is a much harder task to accomplish than percieved. If I were to tell my parents, my family that I have been trying to commit suicide, that I have turned to drugs, illegal activity, and horrible habits to handle her death, I would immediately be put in a psych ward. And maybe that’s best for me….maybe that’s where I belong. But I feel that that in itself is a contradiction. To open up to one, especially to that magnitude would require vulnerability. I would have to become vulnerable to those that ask such a silly question; and I feel those that ask that question do not want my vulnerability set on their shoulders. So, then, what is even the point of asking such a stupid question when one doesn’t care about the answer? Why does society like to put on a mask of caring and compassion when really, no one would give a shit if you were to say you were bleeding out on the inside?
Thank you strangers who ask the question to pass the time, but please, can we cut the shit and admit neither of us care about the other so there is no point to ask such a powerful question in a mediocre setting.
You are the most perfect you there is.
I’m not saying you are “perfect,” hence what society considers “perfect.”
I’m saying that the reason why you are perfect, is because you are you.
You are perfect at being you, because you are you.
There is no one who can be better at being you, than you.
Nobody can be you except you.
No one has the same laugh.
No one has the same smile.
No one sheds the same tears as you do.
You are a very cute specimen and you deserve a hug.
Lost my job. Got bills. Leg ulcer that is killing me. No family. No friends. Plus, I get the “bonus” of living in America which means that without money I will eventually become one of the walking dead on the streets. Love to live in this isolating, uncaring, self absorbed society. Opportunities abound!! As long as you have the money to pay for them!!
America only works for the managers and bosses who pay employees as little as they can to maximize their own profit. Heaven forbid they should want to share the wealth they made on the backs of the employees that actually made their business happen.
In all honesty, I don’t think I’m getting any better. Maybe for a day, or for just a couple of hours I actually feel something other than this depression consuming my soul. I feel content. I notice more things, like the way my boyfriends lips curve into this smirk of a smile, or the way the wind blows at night, and all the living creatures are sleeping, but you can feel the vibrations of the earth. These are the moments when I think that living might not be such a bad thing. But it never lasts. My worst enemy is myself, my own insecurities, my thoughts ravishes my body brutally. My screams are not heard. I am silent in my pain. Tears stain my pillows, I can feel the salt on my lips and I curl in on myself into a tiny tight ball willing myself to pull it together. Its hard. Knowing my could be deadly to ones mental health. I have seen the effect I have on people who try to get close to me. They destroy themselves trying to help, it doesn’t matter about the warnings that I give to these people, they still try with all their effort to help me. To protect me. And it doesn’t make anything better. It makes me feel worse. Who would want to see someone they love destroy themselves trying to help you? Life itself is a beautiful contradicting tragedy. We’re born, not by our own choice but by those before us And then we live based off of how society wants you to live. You obey the worlds, do your work, don’t cheat, thou shalt not steal, murder and all that other good shit. If you break any of these rules you’re looked upon as different. An abnormally. An error in society that needs to not be seen or heard. Expectations are high, self esteem is low and we’re all just walking on a tightrope. Clinging to whatever shitty lives that we born into trying to make the best of it. That in itself is what I like to call a beautifully tragedy.
It’s about that time again – you know, when depression rears its ugly head and you start researching extensively on the internet for exit strategies… Drunk on a saturday and feeling like I can’t escape. Of course I feel awful about leaving my family but really this cannot go on… The suffering and inability to function within society – like a puzzle piece that can’t fit in. I am so fucking tired of being gay which is essentially a death sentence or at least a life long curse of loneliness and harassment.
Normally I try to write better, wax some sort of whining poetic about romanticized suicidal tendencies. But I am a little too fucked up to care and all I can think of is how I wish I could just buy some more vicodin and find a way to slip away- the self loathing is just too strong and I know I’m not built for this world, that I’m too weak to survive in this dog eat dog society.
Fuck this rat race hell. Fuck the slavery of capitalism. Fuck the endless suffering. I am so tired so fed up with all of this nonsense! I’m tired of feeling like I am slowly disappearing and just waiting to die. I am tired of working 50 hours weeks to only be called a failure by my boss. I am tired most of all of being misunderstood. Because this mental health thing doesn’t mean I’m lazy or stupid! All it means is I was genetically predisposed to this torture, just like my great grandmother when she held a pistol to her head and pulled the trigger.
Epilepsy and suicide go hand in hand. In fact you are more likely to die from suicide if you have epilepsy than from the actual seizures. But I feel like in my own experience… The cognitive decline, the lifelong struggle, the uncertainty of whether you will lose unconscious at any given moment — who wouldn’t want to die? At the end of the day it can even be viewed as logical or rational. If you have a painful mole you get it removed? If you have a painful relationship you break up? So why is death not an appropriate answer to a painful past and a tortuous future?!
Clearly I am wrong – this is not rational. And SP is a way to map my decline, as the years turn and the death wish grows stronger. I am sorry for my anger. But it is only a reaction to my thoughts and this endless frustration. I wake up and I imagine myself jumping in front of trains everyday when I commute to work. I imagine myself ordering drugs from the dark web and intentially overdosing. I imagine my death a million times, in a thousand different ways, but eight attempts later I am still here, a failure, basically a zombie. I should not be alive and do not deserve to live. I don’t enjoy life, I certainly don’t take advantage of it. So why wait to die? The fact that it gets better may be the biggest lie. Things fall apart. Life falls apart. It has only gotten worse for me.
I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this. I can’t bear to hurt my family again but I can’t keep going through the motions. Wake up, suicide thoughts, train, suiciee thoughts, work, suicide thoughts, coffee break, suicide thoughts, lunch, suicide thoughts, etc.. It never ends!
I am tired and so close to the edge. My thoughts scare me. I have nowhere to turn. I want the courage to die but I wish I had the courage to live. Above all I wish I was happy. I wish I wasn’t so sad all the time. I wish I could enjoy life.
This has been on my mind recently and I think it’s the reason why there is so much mental health issues in the world. I think our society wants to keep its nasty habits and yet still have no issues.
Like one obvious example is that it wants to blast us with models and perfect bodies and yet it doesn’t want people to have bad self imagine. It wants to load the movies, music and media with dark themes yet it wants no violence. It offers and encourages addictive behaviour at every corner yet it doesn’t want addicts. It fights all the bad outcomes with “awareness” or “help programs” which is obviously not as effective as removing the root cause.
I myself can’t handle this huge pressure of success and being social since society demands it yet it makes it very hard (for some people) to achieve.
It’s one of the reasons I think suicide makes sense, some end up taking all the by products that our society pollutes into the mental atmosphere and its best to throw those away once they have absorb enough to cause them to be “defective”
Sorry about the negative outlook
i constantly feel that i need to get approval of those around me before i go about my day. i need to make sure people accept me so i feel better. i found this beautiful article that i could relate to in so many ways. please take the time to read and share this article to become aware of the stereotypes in society and what role you play in creating them. i couldn’t be happier i stumbled upon this today. let it change your day too.
Everyday I wake up trying to predict my day as being good/average, yet it always turns out to be bad through complete isolation, random stressers appearing out of nowhere, and deception from practically everyone I meet in society. Why are there so many Hippocratic values being expressed by such inconspicuous people, for when I attempt to befriend somebody natural instinct and hormones take over their mind and they become hostile towards me when all I want to do is make a friend. All of my old friends have betrayed or disappeared on me when I need them the most, which is during this unpredictable time. My house is sometimes full of people I know nothing about and have no desire to speak to because of their values being so radicalized and primitive compared to those of my own. I don’t like to drink or smoke because my health won’t allow it, and these seem to be key elements to socializing with people nowadays . Its so hard to find a friend that, throughout my entire life I have yet to find a friend that will stay. I feel so betrayed and ostracized by society that it creates a feeling of despair that drains me everyday. I have little fight left for it refuses to cease, and continuously I am placed in undesirable situations by family through financial and social burdens. I don’t even know if i’ll ever get out my mother’s house even though I am only 19 because of non-liveable wages and stress causing me to forget priorities during my day(s) off. As Emile Durkheim suggests in sociology when one’s life becomes unpredictable he/she considers suicide and having attempted it many times before in various ways I find this interesting yet sad, for I feel as though I am sumo wrestling on top of a wobbly frisbee in air. I just don’t know where I will fall, nor when I will, but time is flying by quickly…
Hi folks. I want you to know, you help me get by. I understand you, I feel for you, your stories resonate for me, I am one of you, here I belong. I was never a ‘happy smiley’, I never will be a happy smiley. In fact I militantly stand for the right not to fecking smile lol. I was the only one in my sixth form class not freaking smiling. And I’m not ashamed. I knew life and society sucked back then (though I was lamentably immature and naive in so many other ways). I wasn’t taken in by the hype.
So fuck faking it.
Why did I have to sink this low? I opened up a new chapter in my life, graduated and got a job. I told myself that I’m going to try hard. I thought finally I found something I’m good at, some way to fit in society in a productive way. It was far from the truth.
So far I feel like I suck at my job. I suck at everything about it from the core of the job to communicating or even socializing with my coworkers.
I just can’t concentrate and keep my mind clear. I can’t focus when so many distracting thoughts pop in and out of my mind. Unintelligent, emotionally charged impulses that cloud my mind and turn me into a zombie. A shell of my former self…
A part of me has hope, it’s the helpless dreamer
Its the same old, same old really. I’m a pissed off misanthrope lacking more than a shy percentage of a will to live. I hate sounding like a melodramatic prick but honestly I can’t very well voice my mind without at least coming off to a few people that way. I try to stay honest, I try to stay logical and not let my inflated ego obstruct me…
But honestly… I’m just, ya know, tired. I’m sick of fighting only to look forward and see bigger and bigger battles. Its demoralizing. I’m 17, graduated highschool early, on to tech school to hopefully get a job with the forestry department as a plant pathologist, blah blah blah. A plan I’ve told everyone, that really stopped being anything more than a blind shot in the dark years ago.
I’m an average physically healthy, young idiot bent on suicide. I’ve looked for help everywhere I can but nobody can help someone like me. I can’t talk to therapists because of what I am and how society sees that. I’ve always been harmless but that doesn’t change things in the eyes of society. What I am makes it impossible for me to have a relationship with anyone, have children, a family, or generally live happily. I’m always living in constant fear of the future and people in general. Anything that could bring me any more than a minute of joy is impossible for me to attain.
I’m unemployed and live with my parents, which may sound a tad more pathetic if I wasn’t 17. Though I intend to get a job soon, if my tiny town has any available, and earn at least a few hundred bucks with which to properly and swiftly off myself.
Everyone I’ve talked to has told me “Oh think of your family.” Well I do. Regularly. And I want nothing more than for them to suffer. They’ve betrayed me left and right, and the only one who hasn’t, my father, has always been an asshole to me. Even today he told me, because I don’t eat, that if I want to die to do it under my own roof. Well that would rob me of the glorious chance to make him wipe my brain off the wall. A brain he created, filled with useless bullshit, then tells that it’s worthless all because I’m not particularly motivated to spend a torturous life trying to do the impossible and carve a happy place for myself in this forsake world of fascists and theocrats.
Life is a gamble. And I’m ready to fold. I’M folding, but HUMANS made me fold.
In this moment i wish i could die. So all the pain and memories of pain could disappear. So id never feel all the anger and hatred and my needless existence could disappear. Im sick of seeing triggers everywhere. Im sick of society at large. Im sick of having little self worth. Im sick of being different. Honestly im only still here because i failed at suicide hundreds of times. Im alone and uneccesary. But that said im not going to attempt. Im going to get up and go to the gym and continue to do the best i can do. There is a part of me that hopes i go so hard that i trigger a fatal heart attack. But if that doesnt happy at least ill have those rush of endorphins those moments of self worth that make life have meaning until they wear off. If i had the option to chose death i would but i don’t so i have to give life the best shot i can.