SharkBiter
New Member
- Jan 22, 2026
- 1
I don't have anyone to talk to. I've stopped speaking to my therapist and psychiatrist, but I'm taking my medication as prescribed. I just don't have the courage to do anything. I feel totally, hopelessly alone.
I called into work a few days ago because I tried to CTB (I really dunno how the lingo here works, sorry if I should be using a different term). It didn't work, obviously, because I did it spur of the moment and I didn't really think about efficacy beyond eliciting the most amount of pain. I tried to bleed out, and it really hurt, and then I had to go into work the next day with these fat ugly lines all over my arms. I didn't have any money for bandages and our uniform is short-sleeved. What a fucking nightmare.
My manager has been texting me nonstop, asking me if I can come in to work spur of the moment. I think the least he's texted me is 4 times a day. I like him though. I guess I just want friends. I want someone to talk to about something that isn't depressing. I constantly have these horrible fucking thoughts on loop 24/7 365. And even as I say that, I have such a difficult time trying to talk to people. I am HORRIBLE at making friends. I have been since I was like 7. I remember my mom literally checked out books about how to make friends for me. Like a whole freaking stack of books!
I know where there's a firearm, and I know I could easily do it. But I have a responsibility to take care of my grandma - she's not totally dependent on me, but I had to drive her to the ER a few days ago. There is a high chance she wouldn't have been okay if I weren't here. But even when I freaking say that, I feel so freaking self-important. I just suck so bad. I'm such a horrible person.
I don't fit in with anyone, but I don't really make an effort to freaking fit in. I am a self-fulfilling prophecy, and then I blame everyone but myself. I'm just fucking incompetent. I'm such a stupid fucking person.
I self-harmed like 15 minutes ago or something and it's literally the stupidest think I could've done. Like I have to go to work tomorrow, and I'm going to show up with my arms wrapped up. I look like I just walked out of a fucking mental asylum.
I've been thinking a lot about my manager, as silly as that sounds, but he's around my age (I think... but definitely not more that 5 years my senior). And when my phone auto-filled with his info, his picture changed to a video game that I've been kind of interested in. This sounds so fucking stupid oh my God, but I just haven't had any real, in-person, friends in so long. I was friends with this girl, but then I found out she was racist and also the other general evils, so I stopped talking to her. I haven't talked to my online friends since I attempted. I don't even know what to say. I have a guy who's going to pay me to do something for him and I'm basically ghosting everyone (he hasn't paid FYI). I just suck. I'm a sucky person. Like I don't think I'm a monster or anything, but I think the world would significantly improve if I weren't here.
I'm also ugly, which I know like... "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," or something, but I'm just hideous. If I could wear a paper bag over my head I really truly would. I would probably be given a freaking rack of medals for doing so. I'm overweight, and I've tried everything to lose weight. I went to the gym religiously, I went on walks all the time, I monitored calories, I even started restricting my food altogether. Nothing. I knew my medicine would make me gain weight, but I've gained 60 lbs. in 1 and a half years. My face is all squished together and I have a big fat nose that's crooked and wonky. I have acne and I've put so many salves and serums on my skin, but it doesn't do shit. I feel trapped in my stupid ugly body.
I just wish I was pretty. I mean I wish I wasn't broke. I've paid some important things through unsavory (not illegal) methods. It's weighing me so much I feel like Atlas. What I'm studying in college doesn't excite me anymore. Nothing really does. I'm planning on getting a tattoo, and maybe that'll make me feel better. I dunno. I feel like this incurable sick blob. Like a mishappen conglomerate of scars and fat.
I've been hospitalized more times than I can count. I've been going through treatments for years, since adolescence, and now in my adulthood the future looks so fucking bleak. I mean disregarding the current political climate (which doesn't help I assure you), I feel like I haven't been able to do things in years. I feel like I'm holding myself back constantly, but I can't figure out how to unshackle myself. You know how people tell you to "apply yourself"? Well, how do I freaking APPLY myself?!!!!!!! I'm really fucking trying over here!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I just don't want to go to school for what I'm going to school for, but if I do what I want to do, my family would be so mad. And there's no stability or reliable job growth in the field I want to pursue.
I have disabilities besides the (CLEAR) mental disorders. Without getting into an abundance of detail, I have trouble walking and lifting things due to an accident. I also have "idiopathic vision loss," whatever THAT means. Basically I am rapidly losing my ability to see, and not a single specialist knows why. I also have hearing issues, which everyone loves to joke about, but it's so frustrating when I am losing control of my senses. I feel like the only control I would get is in my own death. But even then, is that really MY choice?
Is there some otherworldly being, be it a god or some collective of deities, that is tying my hands to strings and making me dance all the way to my grave? Or is this pretentious idea of thought another way to shift blame onto something other than myself? Sometimes I wonder if any of what I say or do or think will matter when eventually I will die, and eventually the people I affected die, and generations span decades upon decades. When does my impact last? Do I really even have an impact on anything? If I do, is my impact even worth anything? Does this impact hurt more than help?
I don't understand my purpose in life. I feel aimless and unimportant and like I am not going to get anywhere with my sad fucking life. Everyone tells me (and I mean EVERYONE) that I have so much life to live. If my life is anything like this I really would rather NOT!!!!!
On another note (AKA... another tangent), I feel like I blame so much of my misgivings on my trauma. I've been raped and abused physically and emotionally, and blah, BLAH, bLAAAAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody fucking cares. I care, sure, but it doesn't FUCKING matter. I am an inconsequential cog in a larger machine. I don't fucking matter. Out of 8 billion people, I am a dot on a chart. I am a fucking line on a graph. I am 1 out of 5 people - I am 75% of the population, I am a number on an analytic sheet.
Even as I fucking say that, I am SUCH a hypocrite. I insist I don't matter, I insist that nobody cares about me, but I fear the impact my death may cause. I know I have people who depend on me. I am replaceable, but my ROLE is not. I fulfill archetypes that people require. I am a bitch, a daughter, and whatever else Meredith Brooks said.
I just constantly have this endless cycle of thoughts running around in my head. I have an ongoing calendar of things that are just out of reach. My unfulfilled To-Do lists lay forgotten next to new ones. I want so desperately, so fucking carnally to have some hole filled inside of me, and it just never will. I can't fill it with anything, no matter what I do. I fear that when I do die, whether by my own hand or fate's, I will still have that unfillable hole inside of me. What if it is inescapable?
I rely so heavily on death and methods of ending my life that I have never really asked myself, "What happens after?" Death has always been the ultimate goal. But what truly lies on the other side? I can't really speculate more than I already have, but I just fear that I desire death so much because it is the one true unknown. People can go to space and come back to tell of stars and solar systems; some go to the tallest peaks of the world and regale other of their tale. But TRUE death is something nobody truly, definitively, explain or understand. Sure, the body is gone, and the synapses in your brain stop firing, but where do YOU go? Is it like going to sleep? Do you really even know if you ARE dying?
I dunno. I really just don't know anymore. I'm tired. I just needed a place to write down my thoughts, and this helped in a strange way. Not that I necessarily feel better, but I feel a little lighter? Haha (does anyone still write out laughs in text?), even as I thought that, another little voice in my head insists nobody cares. This rant is 1.6k words. I guess I just hope people read it? Or maybe I find more solace in knowing I tried to be heard. I put some kind of effort into voicing my discontent? I dunno. Maybe I'll return when I need to. I dunno
I called into work a few days ago because I tried to CTB (I really dunno how the lingo here works, sorry if I should be using a different term). It didn't work, obviously, because I did it spur of the moment and I didn't really think about efficacy beyond eliciting the most amount of pain. I tried to bleed out, and it really hurt, and then I had to go into work the next day with these fat ugly lines all over my arms. I didn't have any money for bandages and our uniform is short-sleeved. What a fucking nightmare.
My manager has been texting me nonstop, asking me if I can come in to work spur of the moment. I think the least he's texted me is 4 times a day. I like him though. I guess I just want friends. I want someone to talk to about something that isn't depressing. I constantly have these horrible fucking thoughts on loop 24/7 365. And even as I say that, I have such a difficult time trying to talk to people. I am HORRIBLE at making friends. I have been since I was like 7. I remember my mom literally checked out books about how to make friends for me. Like a whole freaking stack of books!
I know where there's a firearm, and I know I could easily do it. But I have a responsibility to take care of my grandma - she's not totally dependent on me, but I had to drive her to the ER a few days ago. There is a high chance she wouldn't have been okay if I weren't here. But even when I freaking say that, I feel so freaking self-important. I just suck so bad. I'm such a horrible person.
I don't fit in with anyone, but I don't really make an effort to freaking fit in. I am a self-fulfilling prophecy, and then I blame everyone but myself. I'm just fucking incompetent. I'm such a stupid fucking person.
I self-harmed like 15 minutes ago or something and it's literally the stupidest think I could've done. Like I have to go to work tomorrow, and I'm going to show up with my arms wrapped up. I look like I just walked out of a fucking mental asylum.
I've been thinking a lot about my manager, as silly as that sounds, but he's around my age (I think... but definitely not more that 5 years my senior). And when my phone auto-filled with his info, his picture changed to a video game that I've been kind of interested in. This sounds so fucking stupid oh my God, but I just haven't had any real, in-person, friends in so long. I was friends with this girl, but then I found out she was racist and also the other general evils, so I stopped talking to her. I haven't talked to my online friends since I attempted. I don't even know what to say. I have a guy who's going to pay me to do something for him and I'm basically ghosting everyone (he hasn't paid FYI). I just suck. I'm a sucky person. Like I don't think I'm a monster or anything, but I think the world would significantly improve if I weren't here.
I'm also ugly, which I know like... "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," or something, but I'm just hideous. If I could wear a paper bag over my head I really truly would. I would probably be given a freaking rack of medals for doing so. I'm overweight, and I've tried everything to lose weight. I went to the gym religiously, I went on walks all the time, I monitored calories, I even started restricting my food altogether. Nothing. I knew my medicine would make me gain weight, but I've gained 60 lbs. in 1 and a half years. My face is all squished together and I have a big fat nose that's crooked and wonky. I have acne and I've put so many salves and serums on my skin, but it doesn't do shit. I feel trapped in my stupid ugly body.
I just wish I was pretty. I mean I wish I wasn't broke. I've paid some important things through unsavory (not illegal) methods. It's weighing me so much I feel like Atlas. What I'm studying in college doesn't excite me anymore. Nothing really does. I'm planning on getting a tattoo, and maybe that'll make me feel better. I dunno. I feel like this incurable sick blob. Like a mishappen conglomerate of scars and fat.
I've been hospitalized more times than I can count. I've been going through treatments for years, since adolescence, and now in my adulthood the future looks so fucking bleak. I mean disregarding the current political climate (which doesn't help I assure you), I feel like I haven't been able to do things in years. I feel like I'm holding myself back constantly, but I can't figure out how to unshackle myself. You know how people tell you to "apply yourself"? Well, how do I freaking APPLY myself?!!!!!!! I'm really fucking trying over here!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I just don't want to go to school for what I'm going to school for, but if I do what I want to do, my family would be so mad. And there's no stability or reliable job growth in the field I want to pursue.
I have disabilities besides the (CLEAR) mental disorders. Without getting into an abundance of detail, I have trouble walking and lifting things due to an accident. I also have "idiopathic vision loss," whatever THAT means. Basically I am rapidly losing my ability to see, and not a single specialist knows why. I also have hearing issues, which everyone loves to joke about, but it's so frustrating when I am losing control of my senses. I feel like the only control I would get is in my own death. But even then, is that really MY choice?
Is there some otherworldly being, be it a god or some collective of deities, that is tying my hands to strings and making me dance all the way to my grave? Or is this pretentious idea of thought another way to shift blame onto something other than myself? Sometimes I wonder if any of what I say or do or think will matter when eventually I will die, and eventually the people I affected die, and generations span decades upon decades. When does my impact last? Do I really even have an impact on anything? If I do, is my impact even worth anything? Does this impact hurt more than help?
I don't understand my purpose in life. I feel aimless and unimportant and like I am not going to get anywhere with my sad fucking life. Everyone tells me (and I mean EVERYONE) that I have so much life to live. If my life is anything like this I really would rather NOT!!!!!
On another note (AKA... another tangent), I feel like I blame so much of my misgivings on my trauma. I've been raped and abused physically and emotionally, and blah, BLAH, bLAAAAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody fucking cares. I care, sure, but it doesn't FUCKING matter. I am an inconsequential cog in a larger machine. I don't fucking matter. Out of 8 billion people, I am a dot on a chart. I am a fucking line on a graph. I am 1 out of 5 people - I am 75% of the population, I am a number on an analytic sheet.
Even as I fucking say that, I am SUCH a hypocrite. I insist I don't matter, I insist that nobody cares about me, but I fear the impact my death may cause. I know I have people who depend on me. I am replaceable, but my ROLE is not. I fulfill archetypes that people require. I am a bitch, a daughter, and whatever else Meredith Brooks said.
I just constantly have this endless cycle of thoughts running around in my head. I have an ongoing calendar of things that are just out of reach. My unfulfilled To-Do lists lay forgotten next to new ones. I want so desperately, so fucking carnally to have some hole filled inside of me, and it just never will. I can't fill it with anything, no matter what I do. I fear that when I do die, whether by my own hand or fate's, I will still have that unfillable hole inside of me. What if it is inescapable?
I rely so heavily on death and methods of ending my life that I have never really asked myself, "What happens after?" Death has always been the ultimate goal. But what truly lies on the other side? I can't really speculate more than I already have, but I just fear that I desire death so much because it is the one true unknown. People can go to space and come back to tell of stars and solar systems; some go to the tallest peaks of the world and regale other of their tale. But TRUE death is something nobody truly, definitively, explain or understand. Sure, the body is gone, and the synapses in your brain stop firing, but where do YOU go? Is it like going to sleep? Do you really even know if you ARE dying?
I dunno. I really just don't know anymore. I'm tired. I just needed a place to write down my thoughts, and this helped in a strange way. Not that I necessarily feel better, but I feel a little lighter? Haha (does anyone still write out laughs in text?), even as I thought that, another little voice in my head insists nobody cares. This rant is 1.6k words. I guess I just hope people read it? Or maybe I find more solace in knowing I tried to be heard. I put some kind of effort into voicing my discontent? I dunno. Maybe I'll return when I need to. I dunno
