Flightless Wings
Never got off the ground
- Feb 6, 2025
- 15
I'm not even traumatized. I'm just antisocial.
I'm like a pet. I have all I need physically, and a comfortable life, but no competency to look after myself. I just care so little about everything and it's killing me. I have no opinions that matter, no drive to rework anything about myself, no hobbies anymore, no creativity, no projects, no work, no impulse to socialize or reach out to people. I don't think anyone can understand this. It's a pervasive blandness that's not quite depression. Anhedonia. My emotions are so dull and blunted that I can't identify them anymore. I feel stupid all the time because I just know jack about everything. I'm incompetent at anything serious. I can't work a job. I'm like a child. I'm crippled dead by risk aversion and perfectionism that never amounted to anything. I look slovenly. My social skills are around zero. I missed the life milestones that my peers all hit naturally. Now I'm getting too old to be 'young enough' for my failures anymore.
I don't care about people. I wish everyone well because it's just easiest, it's easiest if we're all doing well. It was always about me, my entertainment, my self-consciousness of being a 'good friend' even when I didn't really care, but I really do wish you the best even though I contribute a fat nothing to it. I don't feel love. I wish I was a warmer, more motivated, more selfless person, but I'm not. I'm cold and dispassionate and stubborn and foolish and so so proud about being 'unique' that I became a crazy emotionless moron.
Suicide pulls at me like a vortex. It really has for years and years, but now without the filter of my imagination transforming it into something harmless, I get stuck in thinking about the raw thing for hours. But even then it's still passive. I might live for years and years doing nothing but think about suicide without the requisite suffering to actually do it. I mean, that's good, but God, how tedious. What can I do with myself in the meantime? Just more nothing. Just waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting for nothing.
I don't know what 'better' looks like. I can't imagine my life looking better than this.
I'm like a pet. I have all I need physically, and a comfortable life, but no competency to look after myself. I just care so little about everything and it's killing me. I have no opinions that matter, no drive to rework anything about myself, no hobbies anymore, no creativity, no projects, no work, no impulse to socialize or reach out to people. I don't think anyone can understand this. It's a pervasive blandness that's not quite depression. Anhedonia. My emotions are so dull and blunted that I can't identify them anymore. I feel stupid all the time because I just know jack about everything. I'm incompetent at anything serious. I can't work a job. I'm like a child. I'm crippled dead by risk aversion and perfectionism that never amounted to anything. I look slovenly. My social skills are around zero. I missed the life milestones that my peers all hit naturally. Now I'm getting too old to be 'young enough' for my failures anymore.
I don't care about people. I wish everyone well because it's just easiest, it's easiest if we're all doing well. It was always about me, my entertainment, my self-consciousness of being a 'good friend' even when I didn't really care, but I really do wish you the best even though I contribute a fat nothing to it. I don't feel love. I wish I was a warmer, more motivated, more selfless person, but I'm not. I'm cold and dispassionate and stubborn and foolish and so so proud about being 'unique' that I became a crazy emotionless moron.
Suicide pulls at me like a vortex. It really has for years and years, but now without the filter of my imagination transforming it into something harmless, I get stuck in thinking about the raw thing for hours. But even then it's still passive. I might live for years and years doing nothing but think about suicide without the requisite suffering to actually do it. I mean, that's good, but God, how tedious. What can I do with myself in the meantime? Just more nothing. Just waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting for nothing.
I don't know what 'better' looks like. I can't imagine my life looking better than this.
