Venting On not having a place in existence

[dreamsofdecadence]

I will vent in a rather disorganized manner, I'm sorry.

I think my will to commit suicide essentially comes down from the fact that I haven't found any place for me in life. I've always been in a state of dreamy contemplation, feeling like I could do anything if I one day applied myself to it. And so I stood, idle, trying this and that leisure and art, science and subject, and I never felt any drive to continue it, to look through the hard work it entails and to find a place in life out of it. No, I never stuck to anything, I was always bored. I don't know if it was a presentiment that a very strong memory I have as a 6 years old was when I looked at a big kitchen knife with dilated pupils and fantasized about cutting my veins and letting blood gush out of my childish arm.
But this neither I couldn't do, just as now I stay undecided, cowardly.

This world has nothing in it for me, I don't feel anything but pain, why should I stay?

But exiting it is such a bother, painful, expensive, prone to failure. I have failed any entreprise that I ever set myself to out of sheer boredom, and now I need to tackle this one, which is much more difficult than it seems. I'm not in America where I would just have bought a shotgun and pressed the trigger.

They had it easier in the 50s where you could buy Nembutal OTC.

 

[FuneralCry]

I also see myself as not meant for existing and I hate how we cannot easily just have the option to die in peace, it really would be such a relief if Nembutal is accessible so that we could just escape from suffering. It certainly is way too unnecessarily difficult to die, it's why I'm still trapped here, it's cruel how not wanting to suffer isn't seen as a valid way to feel.

 

[dreamsofdecadence]

More venting, as a follow-up to the idea of not finding a place in life for me.

I think part of this feeling stems from the fact that I lack the resolve to train seriously at a subject. My mind always wanders, I lack any self-discipline, I get bored and give up. When I die, it will be full of regrets and envy for others who have managed to achieve things they truly wished for. That's probably part of why I think of suicide so much. I would die, yes, but with a degree of regrets and envy that I can control. And dying by my own hands would excise the envy I held for others, and save that peculiar sense of narcissistic self-honour that I hold so important and is my poison.

I was born stubborn, too stubborn for my own good and that of my family. My stubborness was to never settle for a life I hadn't wished for. And full of pride, I have done nothing to deserve this life.

I think it's probably too late now to do anything. I would have to stop chasing those ghastly, tormenting dreams of achieving some mastery or success in things. I let myself suffer from a most grave kind of vertigo, treading on the narrowest path in terror, never daring to take more than a step lest I fall. I would have to manage to find enjoyment in the act of learning itself, and in the reason why I found this or that subject interesting in the first place.

After all, it was for example drawing or learning a foreign language that attracted me most at some point, and not something else like athletism or whatever myriads other subjects. There must be reasons more than simply the very vain and illusory hope of great glory and the fulfillment of an immense narcissistic ego within me. Although of course, this is within me, as it's fueling all that self-hatred and lethargy, and if I were superstitious I would say that it's quite a nefarious daimon that has taken hold of my soul one day, when it saw me trembling, but beneath it all, there once was simply a child who played and found toys more amusing than others, and I wish that child, enlightened by the healthy discipline and rationality of the adult soul, will rise one day.

Or it will be night earlier that day.

 

[brokeandbroken]

I will vent in a rather disorganized manner, I'm sorry.

I think my will to commit suicide essentially comes down from the fact that I haven't found any place for me in life. I've always been in a state of dreamy contemplation, feeling like I could do anything if I one day applied myself to it. And so I stood, idle, trying this and that leisure and art, science and subject, and I never felt any drive to continue it, to look through the hard work it entails and to find a place in life out of it. No, I never stuck to anything, I was always bored. I don't know if it was a presentiment that a very strong memory I have as a 6 years old was when I looked at a big kitchen knife with dilated pupils and fantasized about cutting my veins and letting blood gush out of my childish arm.
But this neither I couldn't do, just as now I stay undecided, cowardly.

This world has nothing in it for me, I don't feel anything but pain, why should I stay?

But exiting it is such a bother, painful, expensive, prone to failure. I have failed any entreprise that I ever set myself to out of sheer boredom, and now I need to tackle this one, which is much more difficult than it seems. I'm not in America where I would just have bought a shotgun and pressed the trigger.

They had it easier in the 50s where you could buy Nembutal OTC.

I just don't have one. I had my place stolen from me and society instead of doing something about it. Decided to kick me out of society. Knowing full well my death would be expected.

 

[leavingsoon99]

I felt this so much. I never had a place in life either. Now, I just don't want one.

 

[quanxiswife]

More venting, as a follow-up to the idea of not finding a place in life for me.

I think part of this feeling stems from the fact that I lack the resolve to train seriously at a subject. My mind always wanders, I lack any self-discipline, I get bored and give up. When I die, it will be full of regrets and envy for others who have managed to achieve things they truly wished for. That's probably part of why I think of suicide so much. I would die, yes, but with a degree of regrets and envy that I can control. And dying by my own hands would excise the envy I held for others, and save that peculiar sense of narcissistic self-honour that I hold so important and is my poison.

I was born stubborn, too stubborn for my own good and that of my family. My stubborness was to never settle for a life I hadn't wished for. And full of pride, I have done nothing to deserve this life.

I think it's probably too late now to do anything. I would have to stop chasing those ghastly, tormenting dreams of achieving some mastery or success in things. I let myself suffer from a most grave kind of vertigo, treading on the narrowest path in terror, never daring to take more than a step lest I fall. I would have to manage to find enjoyment in the act of learning itself, and in the reason why I found this or that subject interesting in the first place.

After all, it was for example drawing or learning a foreign language that attracted me most at some point, and not something else like athletism or whatever myriads other subjects. There must be reasons more than simply the very vain and illusory hope of great glory and the fulfillment of an immense narcissistic ego within me. Although of course, this is within me, as it's fueling all that self-hatred and lethargy, and if I were superstitious I would say that it's quite a nefarious daimon that has taken hold of my soul one day, when it saw me trembling, but beneath it all, there once was simply a child who played and found toys more amusing than others, and I wish that child, enlightened by the healthy discipline and rationality of the adult soul, will rise one day.

Or it will be night earlier that day.

Oh wow you really remind me of myself. I was diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago and I thought being medicated would fix the never ending boredom and zero motivation thing but nope. I guess there's only one solution ^_^

 

[dreamsofdecadence]

Oh wow you really remind me of myself. I was diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago and I thought being medicated would fix the never ending boredom and zero motivation thing but nope. I guess there's only one solution ^_^

I never got a diagnosis for ADHD, but it's mostly because such a diagnosis isn't made often in my country, and also now because I already have another diagnostics. And the ADHD medications would probably be counterindicated for it.

At this point I've also seen countless of these modern shamans that we call psychiatrists, who may be useful to make some violent or annoying brands of the mentally ill more tame, and to stabilize a bunch of more salvageable depressives of various kinds - but for the ilks of me and maybe some of you, they seem useless.

I've thought about buying some of these ADHD medications myself, and self-medicating, maybe I'll try it one day. It doesn't strike me as a very intelligent thing to do if a learned man was to tell me not to try. Perhaps I should ask a doctor first, insist and try to tell him that on this side of the Atlantic they prescribe it for my cases, so why not on that side? At least I'll have tried.