Sakura.
NienawidzÄ™ siebie.
- May 1, 2024
- 252
This is my last day living in my university city, the last day of my life living in a big city, after which I will forever live in a small village completely cut off from the world. As was unfortunately clear, even under these circumstances, I am unable to leave my room for the last time in my life and walk through all the places I've seen here or that were connected to me here. I wish, I could very much walk through this city again—now that I've realized it while writing these lines, I wish even more—but I can't. I was forced to walk through it on Wednesday, and I still haven't recovered from the hurt it caused me, having to confront all these wonderful, beautiful, happy people when I'm this repulsive, autistic monster. Truly, now that I've started writing this, I'd really like to see all these wonderful places in this city again, but I can't…
It's my last day living in a university city, my last day living in a student residence, and perhaps that's why I've felt more resentment towards all 160 people I studied with in my year at university. In my difficult situation, they were my only chance in life, and the last chance in my life, to make friends. I have no friends, no contact with other people—not even forced contact, like I had in college. 99% of the countless activities available in this huge city weren't even theoretically possible for me, because they all required having friends and being likeable—and the literally one or two out of thousands I could have participated in, of course, didn't work back then. These studies were my only chance to have any contact with anyone. To be able to talk to someone, to be able to reach out to someone, to have some kind of interaction with someone. But that was never possible.
This semester, I haven't had a single interaction with anyone. Not a single one. With one person who is in a somewhat similar situation to me, though slightly better, I exchanged literally one sentence at the beginning of the semester and once during the final exam. And that was it. I didn't speak to anyone once throughout the semester, no one wrote to me once throughout the semester (no one has ever written to me in five years...), I didn't even have the opportunity to say hello to anyone throughout the semester. My situation is so bad, there's no connection between me and others, to the point that no one even wants to say "hi." Everyone, including people in my group, treated me like a ghost, passed me by, ignored me, ignored me, as if I didn't exist—this in a situation where everyone knows me because I'm widely considered one of the best students in my year.
Throughout the entire time I studied with them, I was extremely suicidal. I suffered terribly the entire time. All the while, suffering so terribly and wanting to commit suicide so badly, I only refrained from doing so, as almost every suicidal person refrains from doing. And only because there was nothing to compensate for my suffering, nothing to live for despite my suffering. I could have committed suicide countless times over the years. There was not a single moment when I felt better, when I felt safe in this regard. Everyone saw perfectly well how bad things were for me, everyone had exceptionally strong reasons to know I wanted to commit suicide, yet no one did anything.
And it wouldn't take much to react, to change my life. I wasn't asking for psychological support. I didn't want to burden them with my mental suffering. I just wanted them to start saying "hi" to me. I wanted them to want to do it themselves, not for me to force them to, because saying "hi" to them was forcing contact. I just wanted them to see me as a person, not as a disabled person. I just wanted them to want to talk to me. I wanted them to finally have someone I could approach and talk to, someone I could write to. That I would know this person wanted to talk to me. That the interaction would work. I wanted others to want to be my friend. That they wanted to be with me, that they wanted to spend time with me, that they wanted to participate in various activities with me. I wanted to be part of a group, and not be rejected outright by any group and excluded from it. I just wanted to be able to function normally in any environment.
I only want the simplest things. But as you can see, neither is possible. In each of these cases, the opposite is true.
Do they really not know what they're driving me to? They're aware I'm suffering so much. They're even aware that I want to commit suicide. And they don't react. How is such a thing even possible? I really would have committed suicide so many times during this time if I hadn't held back. What would they have said if I had? Would they have even noticed? Like when I disappeared in the middle of class because my mother had just died and I was gone for a week and a half. A whole two people were interested then. A whole 2 people, because in my dire situation, it was a huge surprise that anyone was interested. The other 32 people in the dean's group and another 130 in the class weren't interested at all or didn't even notice. I know that today, if something like this happened again, not a single person would be interested this time.
What would they have said if I had committed suicide? Would they have noticed what it was and what they had done with their indifference and rejection? Or would they say it was entirely my fault, because if I felt so bad about my situation, it wasn't appropriate at all, but simply that I was mentally ill? And would they also say that if I didn't want to be brainwashed about it in therapy and drugged with psychotropic substances to flood my brain with serotonin and thus "feel" "happy," and feel and think nothing, that means I didn't want to get better, and they had nothing to do with it?
It's my last day living in a university city, my last day living in a student residence, and perhaps that's why I've felt more resentment towards all 160 people I studied with in my year at university. In my difficult situation, they were my only chance in life, and the last chance in my life, to make friends. I have no friends, no contact with other people—not even forced contact, like I had in college. 99% of the countless activities available in this huge city weren't even theoretically possible for me, because they all required having friends and being likeable—and the literally one or two out of thousands I could have participated in, of course, didn't work back then. These studies were my only chance to have any contact with anyone. To be able to talk to someone, to be able to reach out to someone, to have some kind of interaction with someone. But that was never possible.
This semester, I haven't had a single interaction with anyone. Not a single one. With one person who is in a somewhat similar situation to me, though slightly better, I exchanged literally one sentence at the beginning of the semester and once during the final exam. And that was it. I didn't speak to anyone once throughout the semester, no one wrote to me once throughout the semester (no one has ever written to me in five years...), I didn't even have the opportunity to say hello to anyone throughout the semester. My situation is so bad, there's no connection between me and others, to the point that no one even wants to say "hi." Everyone, including people in my group, treated me like a ghost, passed me by, ignored me, ignored me, as if I didn't exist—this in a situation where everyone knows me because I'm widely considered one of the best students in my year.
Throughout the entire time I studied with them, I was extremely suicidal. I suffered terribly the entire time. All the while, suffering so terribly and wanting to commit suicide so badly, I only refrained from doing so, as almost every suicidal person refrains from doing. And only because there was nothing to compensate for my suffering, nothing to live for despite my suffering. I could have committed suicide countless times over the years. There was not a single moment when I felt better, when I felt safe in this regard. Everyone saw perfectly well how bad things were for me, everyone had exceptionally strong reasons to know I wanted to commit suicide, yet no one did anything.
And it wouldn't take much to react, to change my life. I wasn't asking for psychological support. I didn't want to burden them with my mental suffering. I just wanted them to start saying "hi" to me. I wanted them to want to do it themselves, not for me to force them to, because saying "hi" to them was forcing contact. I just wanted them to see me as a person, not as a disabled person. I just wanted them to want to talk to me. I wanted them to finally have someone I could approach and talk to, someone I could write to. That I would know this person wanted to talk to me. That the interaction would work. I wanted others to want to be my friend. That they wanted to be with me, that they wanted to spend time with me, that they wanted to participate in various activities with me. I wanted to be part of a group, and not be rejected outright by any group and excluded from it. I just wanted to be able to function normally in any environment.
I only want the simplest things. But as you can see, neither is possible. In each of these cases, the opposite is true.
Do they really not know what they're driving me to? They're aware I'm suffering so much. They're even aware that I want to commit suicide. And they don't react. How is such a thing even possible? I really would have committed suicide so many times during this time if I hadn't held back. What would they have said if I had? Would they have even noticed? Like when I disappeared in the middle of class because my mother had just died and I was gone for a week and a half. A whole two people were interested then. A whole 2 people, because in my dire situation, it was a huge surprise that anyone was interested. The other 32 people in the dean's group and another 130 in the class weren't interested at all or didn't even notice. I know that today, if something like this happened again, not a single person would be interested this time.
What would they have said if I had committed suicide? Would they have noticed what it was and what they had done with their indifference and rejection? Or would they say it was entirely my fault, because if I felt so bad about my situation, it wasn't appropriate at all, but simply that I was mentally ill? And would they also say that if I didn't want to be brainwashed about it in therapy and drugged with psychotropic substances to flood my brain with serotonin and thus "feel" "happy," and feel and think nothing, that means I didn't want to get better, and they had nothing to do with it?
