Anxieyote
Sobriety over everything else • 30 • Midwest
- Mar 24, 2021
- 445
I'm luckier than some in that I'm able to afford everything I want. I'm not rich by any means, but I've worked and saved up enough over the years, that I have a nice apartment, nice decor, an expensive tablet, an expensive smartphone, not much debt, and subscriptions to everything someone could possibly want or need—a collection of popular news magazines, a music streaming service, a video-game streaming service, a health and fitness service, multiple movie-streaming services, a large HD television, surround-sound system, and a full set of color-changing lightbulbs (with an app to make them any color I want).
That covers almost every conceivable need or want that a person could have...which is why it's ridiculous that I'm still suicidal despite all of it. I cleaned my house from top to bottom today, and it looks immaculate. Nothing is out of place, the cloths are folded and sorted, the bed is made, I reorganized the refrigerator, I vacuumed the carpet, and YET I STILL WANT TO DIE
Why, why, why, why, why. I know "money can't buy happiness" is such a generic thing to say, but I have so many things that should be helping me want to stay alive on this planet. I have so many things that are supposed to make my life on this planet infinitely easier, so why am I still unsatisfied and sad all the fucking time? It's unfair that I'm reaping all of the middle-class American rewards, and yet none of them make life worth living. None of them are enough.
I want friends, I want a partner, I want family. None of my nice things are worth shit unless I can share them with someone else.
That covers almost every conceivable need or want that a person could have...which is why it's ridiculous that I'm still suicidal despite all of it. I cleaned my house from top to bottom today, and it looks immaculate. Nothing is out of place, the cloths are folded and sorted, the bed is made, I reorganized the refrigerator, I vacuumed the carpet, and YET I STILL WANT TO DIE
Why, why, why, why, why. I know "money can't buy happiness" is such a generic thing to say, but I have so many things that should be helping me want to stay alive on this planet. I have so many things that are supposed to make my life on this planet infinitely easier, so why am I still unsatisfied and sad all the fucking time? It's unfair that I'm reaping all of the middle-class American rewards, and yet none of them make life worth living. None of them are enough.
I want friends, I want a partner, I want family. None of my nice things are worth shit unless I can share them with someone else.