Venting It feels like there's nothing I can say here that someone doesn't already know.

[AbsurdAbyss]

Nothing hits worse than the pain of having to suffer in silence because whatever I say simply doesn't matter - someone else is going to say it better anyway. My life sounds, apparently, no different from someone else's - but that makes no real difference, does it? We're still gonna be two very different people, with probably a lot less in common and a lot more indifference. Any hopes I had of trying to form genuine connections that mutually matter, even temporarily, has now, after repeated effort and constant failure, permanently disappeared, both online and in real life - I've turned a ghost, existing only to be toyed with by people with nothing better to do. This life makes me sick each second I continue to exist, lying to myself that "this suffering makes sense" only because I lack the means to end my life, having become all that I never wanted to be, watching everything "good" about my life(my dreams, my identity, what I lived for) burnt to ashes in seconds, everything about me I believed to be "truth"(my past, what kept me going) crumble down to dust, firmly locked in chains I couldn't escape, forced to feel both the delirium of presence and the nightmare of paralysis at once in this moment. Seeking help turned out to be a disaster - all they ever said(after a couple of sessions and loads of "feel good" meds which left me dumb, numb and almost broke later) is how everything wrong with me is my own fault and there's nothing they can(or want to) do about it. The thing about insanity is you never know when or how it hits you, but once it does it never goes away - everywhere I look now, I see death, in every word, in every picture, in every scene, in every breath. I have nothing left to live for, there's nothing more I want to know, my eyes are tired and blind from having seen too much, too much of everything. Its comforting to think I won't be alone when I pass - there'd be many others dying with me, in the same moment, all over the world. Their pain, in that moment, is mine, as mine is theirs; which makes us seem not so far away. As I prepare to disappear forever, these lines from Misao Fujimara's farewell poem ring true :

"The true nature of the whole creation.
Is in one word – "unfathomable".
With this regret, I am determined to die.
Standing on a rock on the top of a waterfall.
I have no anxiety.
I recognize for the first time.
Great pessimism is nothing but great optimism."

 

[Ember]

I think what you say matters, at least I believe it might help to get things off your chest, maybe not though. I don't think how you say it necessarily matters, I don't think the objective is communicating how you feel, maybe it's more reaching out and communicating how you feel is a means to an end where eloquence is not the focus. If you'd like to talk, I wouldn't mind listening. If not, I still hope you find some respite