Z0002
I miss you
- Jun 23, 2026
- 41
My whole life is lost from beginning to end. I've always been an outcast. Never been to a party, never kissed anyone, never got drunk. My first hug was at 22, from one of the patients in a psychiatric hospital because things were that fucking bad for me, lol. After that, only one other person ever hugged me, and that's it. I barely ever spoke to people, and I don't know how to talk to them. I never learned how.
My interactions with people from the very beginning of my life were almost nonexistent. Other people live, meet people, fall in love, go out together, party, make memories, while I've basically been standing on the sidelines watching all of it happen, unable to participate, as if I was given a life but never given the instructions.
I've hurt many people — people who didn't matter much, but also people who were close to me, and the people closest to me, whom I mostly know through the internet anyway because I was never able to build a real, close relationship with someone in person.
It hurts knowing that I often hurt people I genuinely never wanted to hurt. I know that my suffering doesn't excuse everything I've done. I know that my behavior can be absolutely terrible, but at the same time I know that underneath all of it, I really wanted to be someone better for those people. I just didn't know how.
Loneliness and depression have been eating me alive. It became unbearable already in middle school, when I met someone truly wonderful, but I could never see that person in real life because of the fucking distance and my phobia of traveling. And for these past 13 years, there hasn't been a single day when I haven't thought about death. 13 years of waking up with the same weight on my shoulders and going to sleep carrying it. 13 years of slowly retreating further and further into my own head, filled with dark thoughts.
I've never worked either. I'm a fucking parasite to my own family, mainly to my grandfather, with whom I have a terrible relationship because of my inability to communicate with the outside world.
Now I'm hurting the last people I care about. Actually, they've already left because they had enough of me and my shitty behavior. And it hurts knowing that my whole life I desperately wanted to have someone close to me, and when I finally did, I was the one who managed to destroy it.
I regret that back then, instead of killing myself, I ended up in a psychiatric hospital. And I'm still in the exact same place. I'm even afraid to kill myself, but at the same time I feel like eventually I have to overcome that fear.
I don't know if I can still be a human being. I don't know if, after so many years of isolation, it's still possible to learn how to live among other people. I don't know if relationships I destroyed myself can ever be repaired.
I hate myself for what I've done and for what I haven't done. My life is over.
My interactions with people from the very beginning of my life were almost nonexistent. Other people live, meet people, fall in love, go out together, party, make memories, while I've basically been standing on the sidelines watching all of it happen, unable to participate, as if I was given a life but never given the instructions.
I've hurt many people — people who didn't matter much, but also people who were close to me, and the people closest to me, whom I mostly know through the internet anyway because I was never able to build a real, close relationship with someone in person.
It hurts knowing that I often hurt people I genuinely never wanted to hurt. I know that my suffering doesn't excuse everything I've done. I know that my behavior can be absolutely terrible, but at the same time I know that underneath all of it, I really wanted to be someone better for those people. I just didn't know how.
Loneliness and depression have been eating me alive. It became unbearable already in middle school, when I met someone truly wonderful, but I could never see that person in real life because of the fucking distance and my phobia of traveling. And for these past 13 years, there hasn't been a single day when I haven't thought about death. 13 years of waking up with the same weight on my shoulders and going to sleep carrying it. 13 years of slowly retreating further and further into my own head, filled with dark thoughts.
I've never worked either. I'm a fucking parasite to my own family, mainly to my grandfather, with whom I have a terrible relationship because of my inability to communicate with the outside world.
Now I'm hurting the last people I care about. Actually, they've already left because they had enough of me and my shitty behavior. And it hurts knowing that my whole life I desperately wanted to have someone close to me, and when I finally did, I was the one who managed to destroy it.
I regret that back then, instead of killing myself, I ended up in a psychiatric hospital. And I'm still in the exact same place. I'm even afraid to kill myself, but at the same time I feel like eventually I have to overcome that fear.
I don't know if I can still be a human being. I don't know if, after so many years of isolation, it's still possible to learn how to live among other people. I don't know if relationships I destroyed myself can ever be repaired.
I hate myself for what I've done and for what I haven't done. My life is over.
