I'm 27 and I had enough. It's time to go.
I've been suffering all my life. I never knew my father, even my mother doesn't know who my father is (I'll let your imagination fill out the gaps).
Despite how shit my life is, my mother's life is even worse. For this reason, I can't hate on her too much for being an awful parent, but I do resent her for giving birth to me. Imagine being a single, 22 year old, mentally ill woman with no serious professional skills in the middle of a poor country that is undergoing recession...only an idiot would give birth to a child under these circumstances. My mother is an idiot. She killed both of us with this decision: condemning me to a lifetime of suffering and herself to a stroke caused by her inability to cope with the stress I caused her. She was in her late 30s when the stroke hit. She's not dead but I wish she was, not because I hate her, but because she is suffering even more. And this is my fault.
Of course, weather me becoming the way I was and thus causing her so much stress is her fault or not is debatable.
I often ask myself: can a 4 year old child be held responsible for failing to socialise? What about an 8 year old? 12? 16? When does my responsibility begin? How am I supposed to get rid of the baggage I've been carrying for so many years, how am I supposed to suddenly become a happy-chappy that people will like?
I first wanted to kill myself when I was 9. Social isolation, constant bullying and a sense of non-belonging. Frequent literal ass-whooping from my mother (she would beat my butt with a wooden clothes hanger if I misbehaved). One day I remember I wouldn't come out of the boys toilet because I was bad that day and I knew what awaited me at home. After she lured me out she kindly said she will only hit once, for which at that point I was grateful. Thanks mom.
I had constant problems in school. I had very good grades up until the 6th, then hormones hit and I became one of the worst in class. My mother literally got rid of me when I was 12, first going into the care of my uncle then living largely independently in dorms and in rooms I rented with money I earned in Germany doing a summer job at 16. That money goes a long way in poorer countries. I was always an outcast. Even when I went to places where outcasts go, I managed to be an outcast there as well.
I grew up to become a complete mess of a person. I'm useless to everyone, especially myself. I have no positive personality traits. I'm temperamental, prone to fits of rage. I often take insult because I don't recognise banter and I think I'm under attack (I am a big guy and I stopped the boys from bullying me by going berserk on anyone that tried. Sadly, this strategy didn't stop girls from bullying me).A metaphor to myself is a person sitting behind a driving wheel of a moving car, being unable to drive, incapable of stopping or steering it. I'm unattractive, repulsive even.
My speech is laughably posh and needlessly formal. I'm not funny. My walk is often made fun of by others. I'm interested in pretty much nothing but video games, the only thing that kept me alive this long. Of course, the actual parental authorities at any given time knew this very well, so they made sure to prohibit me from gaming as much as possible. I also didn't have access to the internet in my teens. This meant that I missed out on my crucial teen years where I could have honed my gaming skills and reaction time. This barred me from having a career in gaming, the one thing I truly love.
I'm lazy and unmotivated. I fail at everything. Always. I tried getting an education in the UK (where I emigrated at 19 by myself), but I failed at that too.
I really, really hate myself. I have 0 discipline, ability to control myself, set up routines or change my habits. I haven't hurt anyone yet, but day by day I feel myself getting angrier and more resentful and I fear it's only a question of time until I do something stupid. I can see myself becoming that grumpy antisocial, smelly old guy that hates everyone and everyone hates him...hell, I'm halfway there already (I don't smell bad yet).
There's no reason for me to continue living. There's no hope for me, nothing to look forward to, no chance of happiness. I was once falsely accused of raping someone. (the bitch begged me to fuck her). To this day I lived terrified of women and what they can do to me with a simple lie. I'm very lucky she only lied to my boss, so I only lost my dream job. Were she to contact the police, my research reveals she would have been believed and I would have been branded for a lifetime, without a lick of evidence provided by her.
I've also been recently swindled by someone I thought was a friend who suggested I take out a £3000 loan and give it to him, so he can help me set up a business. Recently, he stopped responding to me and making payments to the loan company (as he promised he would).
So I have to live my life, not being able to trust men or women,living in constant fear of betrayal. Is that truly a life worth living? Surely, if I was a decent person, there would be someone I could trust?
My family from home doesn't message me, ever. My uncle lives close by and he's the only person I'm close with, but when I try talking about my problems he just tells me he's having it worse.
The only thing I left to look forward to is a lifetime of suffering, isolation, resentment, paranoia and anger. Lots and lots of anger and hatred. I will be doing meaningless, soul-grinding menial jobs for the rest of my life, swimming from one piece of flotsam to the other, sustaining on whatever little money I can scrape together before I inevitably fuck up whatever job I happen to be doing at the time. Complete lack of intimacy (I haven't been touched for years). No dreams of wife and kids. Nothing but pain.
For this reason, I will kill myself on Saturday. The choice of day is because the rope I ordered arrives that day from an online order (I would do it today if I had the means). On that day I will drink plenty of alcohol to suppress my fear and help me take the plunge. I did my research: knot to the front so it snaps my neck back. Length of the rope is irrelevant to me because I'm 20 stones, the equation tells me I barely need a meter to snap the spinal chord. I'll give it 2 meters just in case.
I don't know why I'm writing this, I just feel like I had to. I'm writing this in this forum because I know it's pro-choice, so hopefully you won't try to convince me otherwise. I'm hopeless because I cannot fix myself. My mind is covered by cobwebs (I can't explain, that's the closest I can get) and I cannot seize control of the vessel that drives me. I'm the only person who can help me and I made it clear to myself that I won't do that.
I promised myself I'd end the pain. I must. There's no way out. All I do is suck up empathy from others, and spit out negativity. I'm a destructive element, I make the world a worse place. I must die. For the sake of everyone, including me.
I've been suffering all my life. I never knew my father, even my mother doesn't know who my father is (I'll let your imagination fill out the gaps).
Despite how shit my life is, my mother's life is even worse. For this reason, I can't hate on her too much for being an awful parent, but I do resent her for giving birth to me. Imagine being a single, 22 year old, mentally ill woman with no serious professional skills in the middle of a poor country that is undergoing recession...only an idiot would give birth to a child under these circumstances. My mother is an idiot. She killed both of us with this decision: condemning me to a lifetime of suffering and herself to a stroke caused by her inability to cope with the stress I caused her. She was in her late 30s when the stroke hit. She's not dead but I wish she was, not because I hate her, but because she is suffering even more. And this is my fault.
Of course, weather me becoming the way I was and thus causing her so much stress is her fault or not is debatable.
I often ask myself: can a 4 year old child be held responsible for failing to socialise? What about an 8 year old? 12? 16? When does my responsibility begin? How am I supposed to get rid of the baggage I've been carrying for so many years, how am I supposed to suddenly become a happy-chappy that people will like?
I first wanted to kill myself when I was 9. Social isolation, constant bullying and a sense of non-belonging. Frequent literal ass-whooping from my mother (she would beat my butt with a wooden clothes hanger if I misbehaved). One day I remember I wouldn't come out of the boys toilet because I was bad that day and I knew what awaited me at home. After she lured me out she kindly said she will only hit once, for which at that point I was grateful. Thanks mom.
I had constant problems in school. I had very good grades up until the 6th, then hormones hit and I became one of the worst in class. My mother literally got rid of me when I was 12, first going into the care of my uncle then living largely independently in dorms and in rooms I rented with money I earned in Germany doing a summer job at 16. That money goes a long way in poorer countries. I was always an outcast. Even when I went to places where outcasts go, I managed to be an outcast there as well.
I grew up to become a complete mess of a person. I'm useless to everyone, especially myself. I have no positive personality traits. I'm temperamental, prone to fits of rage. I often take insult because I don't recognise banter and I think I'm under attack (I am a big guy and I stopped the boys from bullying me by going berserk on anyone that tried. Sadly, this strategy didn't stop girls from bullying me).A metaphor to myself is a person sitting behind a driving wheel of a moving car, being unable to drive, incapable of stopping or steering it. I'm unattractive, repulsive even.
My speech is laughably posh and needlessly formal. I'm not funny. My walk is often made fun of by others. I'm interested in pretty much nothing but video games, the only thing that kept me alive this long. Of course, the actual parental authorities at any given time knew this very well, so they made sure to prohibit me from gaming as much as possible. I also didn't have access to the internet in my teens. This meant that I missed out on my crucial teen years where I could have honed my gaming skills and reaction time. This barred me from having a career in gaming, the one thing I truly love.
I'm lazy and unmotivated. I fail at everything. Always. I tried getting an education in the UK (where I emigrated at 19 by myself), but I failed at that too.
I really, really hate myself. I have 0 discipline, ability to control myself, set up routines or change my habits. I haven't hurt anyone yet, but day by day I feel myself getting angrier and more resentful and I fear it's only a question of time until I do something stupid. I can see myself becoming that grumpy antisocial, smelly old guy that hates everyone and everyone hates him...hell, I'm halfway there already (I don't smell bad yet).
There's no reason for me to continue living. There's no hope for me, nothing to look forward to, no chance of happiness. I was once falsely accused of raping someone. (the bitch begged me to fuck her). To this day I lived terrified of women and what they can do to me with a simple lie. I'm very lucky she only lied to my boss, so I only lost my dream job. Were she to contact the police, my research reveals she would have been believed and I would have been branded for a lifetime, without a lick of evidence provided by her.
I've also been recently swindled by someone I thought was a friend who suggested I take out a £3000 loan and give it to him, so he can help me set up a business. Recently, he stopped responding to me and making payments to the loan company (as he promised he would).
So I have to live my life, not being able to trust men or women,living in constant fear of betrayal. Is that truly a life worth living? Surely, if I was a decent person, there would be someone I could trust?
My family from home doesn't message me, ever. My uncle lives close by and he's the only person I'm close with, but when I try talking about my problems he just tells me he's having it worse.
The only thing I left to look forward to is a lifetime of suffering, isolation, resentment, paranoia and anger. Lots and lots of anger and hatred. I will be doing meaningless, soul-grinding menial jobs for the rest of my life, swimming from one piece of flotsam to the other, sustaining on whatever little money I can scrape together before I inevitably fuck up whatever job I happen to be doing at the time. Complete lack of intimacy (I haven't been touched for years). No dreams of wife and kids. Nothing but pain.
For this reason, I will kill myself on Saturday. The choice of day is because the rope I ordered arrives that day from an online order (I would do it today if I had the means). On that day I will drink plenty of alcohol to suppress my fear and help me take the plunge. I did my research: knot to the front so it snaps my neck back. Length of the rope is irrelevant to me because I'm 20 stones, the equation tells me I barely need a meter to snap the spinal chord. I'll give it 2 meters just in case.
I don't know why I'm writing this, I just feel like I had to. I'm writing this in this forum because I know it's pro-choice, so hopefully you won't try to convince me otherwise. I'm hopeless because I cannot fix myself. My mind is covered by cobwebs (I can't explain, that's the closest I can get) and I cannot seize control of the vessel that drives me. I'm the only person who can help me and I made it clear to myself that I won't do that.
I promised myself I'd end the pain. I must. There's no way out. All I do is suck up empathy from others, and spit out negativity. I'm a destructive element, I make the world a worse place. I must die. For the sake of everyone, including me.
