Briellewannabe
Bronze Member
I think my greatest struggle is the depression and suicidal thoughts--the anxiety and bad memories or dreams I can deal with, and certainly they contribute to the depression, but they are not the root of it. I don't know what is. I don't know why I don't want to be here, why I never wanted to be here (starting at age 5ish), even when days are good. I don't understand why I don't feel good, or often feel miserable, when nothing is going on or even when everything is going right. I don't know why it never seems enough, why I still want to leave, regardless of people I meet or successes I make. I still don't want to be here. I still hate it--nothing has ever seemed to change that in two decades.
My life has been weird... at time it's been really good and others really bad, with a lot of craziness in between. I wonder how much is me and how much are social factors. How badly did my parents screw me up or was I simply screwed up already? Did I contribute to the way I am now? How? What could I have done differently? Would it make it better? Just different? Worse? I can imagine worse, I can't imagine better.
I still don't always believe there is a better or a different. People talk about being happy, or finding it abnormal for someone wanting to die, but why am I weird and they're not? As far as I'm concerned, their world doesn't exist and they too are faking it. Plastering that smile, laughing at jokes that aren't funny, or nodding along as if they care. They can't mean it anymore than I do, surely. At the end of the day don't they too wish they could stop pretending? They can stop trying? Don't they just want to be done too? I wish they'd acknowledge it if this was the case, then we all could agree that we don't want to continue and could collectively blow up the planet. No more pretending. We all get what we want.
My life has been weird... at time it's been really good and others really bad, with a lot of craziness in between. I wonder how much is me and how much are social factors. How badly did my parents screw me up or was I simply screwed up already? Did I contribute to the way I am now? How? What could I have done differently? Would it make it better? Just different? Worse? I can imagine worse, I can't imagine better.
I still don't always believe there is a better or a different. People talk about being happy, or finding it abnormal for someone wanting to die, but why am I weird and they're not? As far as I'm concerned, their world doesn't exist and they too are faking it. Plastering that smile, laughing at jokes that aren't funny, or nodding along as if they care. They can't mean it anymore than I do, surely. At the end of the day don't they too wish they could stop pretending? They can stop trying? Don't they just want to be done too? I wish they'd acknowledge it if this was the case, then we all could agree that we don't want to continue and could collectively blow up the planet. No more pretending. We all get what we want.