Well, I’ve pulled my head out of my asshole. I’m struggling, but I’m trying to fix myself. It’s not going to be an easy process, but I guess since I’m the problem and only I can fix me, I have to go ahead and do that. Today, I’m feeling especially alone, depressed, and suicidal, but I’m not going to kill myself (even though, right now, this is the only thing that would bring me any kind of genuine joy). I’m trying, really hard, to better myself.
For example, I’m sober (something I wasn’t for a long time). I’m taking my meds every day (they numb me out, but yeah. still taking them). I’m working, and saving money. I’m in college, getting a degree. I’m trying my very best to get out of the house, socialize, and make friends (although it’s damn near impossible due to circumstance). I’m moving out of my house by the end of the week because I finally have enough money saved to rent an apartment. I’m a legitimate workaholic with straight A’s and money in my pocket.
And yet, I do not feel happiness. At the end of every day, I go home and I am me, and I hate me. I should be proud. I should feel accomplished. I finally made it, right? My brain says: “no, no you didn’t make it because too much damage has been done to ever truly be fixed. this will always be a part of you, until the day you die. Your abuse, trauma, and bitterness will destroy you, and you’re powerless to help yourself or be helped by a therapist/medication. It’s too much to handle - just end it. You’ve tried everything, and you know in whatever’s left of your soul that ending your life is the only way you will ever be able to experience inner peace, even if it’s just for a few seconds.”
I am kind to others, but it is an act. I am really very apathetic, and I am kind to others only because I know intuitively that I should be kind to others, and I’m trying to be myself again by helping others. Unfortunately, I have lost all contact with the kids from the psych ward. I don’t know where they are, who they’re with, or even if they’re alive or okay. That hurts.
I am intelligent, but that works against me. I would give up every IQ point making me stand out from the crowd if it only meant I could experience love, peace, and happiness.
I am talented, but I find joy in nothing. Simply existing is a chore. I must force myself to shower and brush my teeth against my own will, because I’d really rather lay there and let myself decay.
Life is a battle, and I just feel like I’m going to end up losing it. I’m sticking around in the hopes that I will change into something better. I need so much help, and I don’t even know where to begin. My mind is the one thing I’ve ever come across that I have not, in the slightest, been able to comprehend.