Venting a fool’s game

[ABadPerson]

Life seems so pointless, I try to look at things as objectively as possible yet I see no avenue where I could theoretically be 'content'.

Despite my numerous struggles, inherently horrible environment and failures in life it isn't about any particular circumstance, but rather the bleakness of reality itself; my mind is a prison, a constant agonising prison with no safe space to speak of.

I can 'fight' through my struggles, my mental disorders, my life but when it seems as though I, myself, am the problem what can I even do?
I just don't understand people, nor myself, and fuck up in every way possible at each turning point in trying my best to be the most 'good' friend possible; it doesn't matter how hard I try, or that I 'tried' in the first place, when the end result is always the same it gets more objective as time goes on that I have far more wrong with me than what a couple diagnosis could gather up.

It's nothing about the way I was born, it's just me, just me. It's always been me, and when I'm left to my own thoughts I completely break down at the prospect of my entire existence being so vile and wrong. I can't stand whatever this body is, and I don't at all mean in appearance-wise or anything similar but my entire existence itself; I loathe being conceived in this world due to 'sentience'.

I'm a genuine waste of life, there is no real means of me being happy no matter how good of a life I had, it's just an icing on the top that mine had to be so miserable.

It's ironic; I have no dreams, no goals, no purpose, nothing. Genuinely nothing. People genuinely don't understand how literal I mean this, I felt no drive towards anything at all outside of what seemed like obligation, like a robot going throughout my existence.

I can't even seem to comprehend my own emotions outside of mental breakdowns, and yet people seem to act as though this is a blessing in comparison to being 'too emotional'… It's not so great when I see no point in existence to the point of struggling to breathe at times, it all just seems so fucking meaningless, I experienced so much for nothing.

What's the meaning to a life so void of joy? Not even the most brainless forms of entertainment are reaching me anymore… The only point in time I can really recall feeling momentary bliss was when I was severely attached to an individual, and yet it's in those moments I realise the most how horrifying wrong my existence is as I watch them twist just from being with me, I hurt people so much and change them for the worst yet they could still say they 'love' me so much, how can I live with myself knowing that?
That's why I forced myself to cut all contact, as just staying distant with people hurt too much to do after a while and I can only feel attached to one person during a long period. Yet, nothing else seems to matter outside of those moments to me, the irony.

I have made so many plans, yet all of them in some way or another failed/fell through; I can't even seem to ctb right, the one thing I thought I could at least control is just constantly slipping out of my hands each and every time. The one good I could do utterly wrecked by my own incompetency.

All this should be crushing me, yet I just type this mechanically, tears running down yet I feel nothing deep within. My body is crying, my mind is spiralling in thoughts that reflect depression but 'I', whatever makes up the true essence of this consciousness, simply just empty.

What am I?

 

[Forever Sleep]

This resonates with me a lot. I'm really just going through the motions out of a sense of obligation not to hurt my Dad. Just trying to find the path of least resistance. The weirder thing is- I used to feel there was purpose in my life. I used to get so much out of pursuing a creative career. Weirder than that is- although that made life more tolerable- there was at least a drive to push through, I'm not even sure I want that passion back. I really just want to be able to stop all this.