prettyclam
Member
- Nov 29, 2024
- 40
I'm sick and tired of being alive. That statement is redundant on this forum but I truly mean it. I gain no pleasure from existence anymore. All of my hobbies and interests turned bland. Each day I'm coasting by pretending like I still love art, or food, or fashion, when in reality I'm an empty shell of a human. It's incredibly painful going to work with a smile acting like everyone cares whether I live or die. But they don't. My coworkers don't care if I return next shift. My family doesn't care if I wake up tomorrow. My friends will replace me with someone better. And my girlfriend will shed a single tear of pity before moving on.
My existence is either a burden or not acknowledged altogether. I'm like a colorless ghost amongst the living, trying but failing to blend in. Since the moment I was conceived, a countdown began, ticking down to when I'd finally ctb. It was set by God, predestined by fate, a path I must follow. But why must fulfilling the deed be so difficult? If the universe wants me to die so badly, it should've killed me long ago. It could've killed me in infancy, or in a car accident, or with cancer or something. God probably thought that was too easy and decided to make my life a nightmare instead. It made me an ugly, stupid girl born into an abusive home. It made sure I would never succeed. It made sure I'd never get a millisecond in the sun. Rather than giving me hope, it gave me despair that I'll have to live with forever...at least, until I ctb.
My circumstances are almost comedic, like it was written by an author trying to win the "most depressing book ever" challenge. All the worst elements of life were thrown into a machine that produced me. In every story, the protagonist has SOMETHING positive about them. Maybe they're poor but smart, or stupid but determined. I just don't have that. I don't have that spark that'll make my life worthwhile with enough willpower. I'm depressed forever-- how the universe intended. And don't say I didn't try to make this existence better, because I did. I scored good grades in school, had a big friend group for awhile, experimented with styles so I'd look my best. I tried speaking up about my abusive home. I tried running away from it completely. I tried researching colleges. I tried joining the military. I even gave recovery a chance when I got professional help.
Yet those efforts were fruitless. Only then did I become who I am today. This shows that you can't escape what the universe has planned for you. I am depressed and suicidal. I embrace it even though society doesn't. People think every suicidal person is a flower waiting to blossom. Being mentally "ill" doesn't make me delusional though. Anyone with eyes can see that my life is a wilted weed rotting in the shade. Watering it is useless. No amount of fertilizer will make me a rose. I'm unsalvageable.
And lately fate has been taunting me. I've been having dreams of my girlfriend and I in a perfect world. Just us lying in bed, tickling each other. Simple dreams like that. God is laughing because that'll never be a reality. I rarely visit her house, and when I do, I feel like a war refugee. It's so peaceful, so welcoming, so normal in contrast to the hellhole I was born and raised in. That difference is what makes me so awkward around her, so we'll never be like a normal couple who has tickle fights or sleepovers or movie nights. Whose fault is that but mine? For existing this way. For existing this long. For not killing myself sooner.
Those childish dreams are what made me want to vent. Dumb reason I know. But experiencing them reminded me of how the cards are inherently not in my favor. My life is an eternal streak of agony I can't get a break from during sleep because of these dreams. I might as well call nightmares since all they do is rub salt in the wound. Day in day out it's just "die, die, die". And the universe decided I had to be the one to end it. It took sleep off my roster of relief tools. My unconsciousness is not safe from the pain anymore. Only death is.
Now let me take my loser self to the shower so I can be presentable tomorrow. Another exhausting day out of a billion. Gotta blend into society. Screw everything. If anyone even views this rant, thanks for enduring it. To everyone's relief, I'm working towards ctb. Don't worry. I'll be dead soon
My existence is either a burden or not acknowledged altogether. I'm like a colorless ghost amongst the living, trying but failing to blend in. Since the moment I was conceived, a countdown began, ticking down to when I'd finally ctb. It was set by God, predestined by fate, a path I must follow. But why must fulfilling the deed be so difficult? If the universe wants me to die so badly, it should've killed me long ago. It could've killed me in infancy, or in a car accident, or with cancer or something. God probably thought that was too easy and decided to make my life a nightmare instead. It made me an ugly, stupid girl born into an abusive home. It made sure I would never succeed. It made sure I'd never get a millisecond in the sun. Rather than giving me hope, it gave me despair that I'll have to live with forever...at least, until I ctb.
My circumstances are almost comedic, like it was written by an author trying to win the "most depressing book ever" challenge. All the worst elements of life were thrown into a machine that produced me. In every story, the protagonist has SOMETHING positive about them. Maybe they're poor but smart, or stupid but determined. I just don't have that. I don't have that spark that'll make my life worthwhile with enough willpower. I'm depressed forever-- how the universe intended. And don't say I didn't try to make this existence better, because I did. I scored good grades in school, had a big friend group for awhile, experimented with styles so I'd look my best. I tried speaking up about my abusive home. I tried running away from it completely. I tried researching colleges. I tried joining the military. I even gave recovery a chance when I got professional help.
Yet those efforts were fruitless. Only then did I become who I am today. This shows that you can't escape what the universe has planned for you. I am depressed and suicidal. I embrace it even though society doesn't. People think every suicidal person is a flower waiting to blossom. Being mentally "ill" doesn't make me delusional though. Anyone with eyes can see that my life is a wilted weed rotting in the shade. Watering it is useless. No amount of fertilizer will make me a rose. I'm unsalvageable.
And lately fate has been taunting me. I've been having dreams of my girlfriend and I in a perfect world. Just us lying in bed, tickling each other. Simple dreams like that. God is laughing because that'll never be a reality. I rarely visit her house, and when I do, I feel like a war refugee. It's so peaceful, so welcoming, so normal in contrast to the hellhole I was born and raised in. That difference is what makes me so awkward around her, so we'll never be like a normal couple who has tickle fights or sleepovers or movie nights. Whose fault is that but mine? For existing this way. For existing this long. For not killing myself sooner.
Those childish dreams are what made me want to vent. Dumb reason I know. But experiencing them reminded me of how the cards are inherently not in my favor. My life is an eternal streak of agony I can't get a break from during sleep because of these dreams. I might as well call nightmares since all they do is rub salt in the wound. Day in day out it's just "die, die, die". And the universe decided I had to be the one to end it. It took sleep off my roster of relief tools. My unconsciousness is not safe from the pain anymore. Only death is.
Now let me take my loser self to the shower so I can be presentable tomorrow. Another exhausting day out of a billion. Gotta blend into society. Screw everything. If anyone even views this rant, thanks for enduring it. To everyone's relief, I'm working towards ctb. Don't worry. I'll be dead soon
