A big part of things is because of him, but it's more complicated than just he broke up with me. It was basically a long-term, off-and-on, open-relationship between him and me, and he also was long-distance. We'd break up and take a few months break, get back together for a few months, break up - and it'd just go on and on like that, for about 5.5 years. He'd talk shit to me to everyone he knew, telling them about arguments we had, never telling them anything positive, thus giving them a distorted sense that I was a crazy murderous psychopath or something, which caused people to abandon me and made me socially isolated. It was comparable to living in prison condition solitary confinement, where the only person I could talk to was him. It was more than he broke up with me, it was repeated... like, some kind of emotional abuse.
I also previously had a girlfriend who abandoned me, walked out of the apartment as I was out for a walk, I came back to an empty home. Lost my home and job after that. She also cheated on me, A LOT, including with managers I had worked with, which is part of why I lost my job. She also went to the police and charged me with domestic violence when I got angry at her and pushed her against her computer table when I found out about the cheating, asked if we could be monogomous, and she said no. I snapped and broke, and the biggest regret of my life ever happened in that moment. During this relationship as well, I had a mental breakdown. I drank, a lot. More than I wanted to, I'd actually want to stop and would force myself to drink more, puke, then wash down the vomit with more booze, knew I had an abscess that could infect my bloodstream and kill me via sepsis and kept doing it. Why? I wanted to die, I knew if I kept it up, I'd die. I did kind of succeed, because I now have chronic pancreatitis, and approximately 15 years to live, based on statistics. I still drink, too. Because really, why stop? It's not like I give a fuck about living.
Then you got the stereotypical stuff. I was bullied in school, I saw LGBT kids I was in school with get bullied for being gay or lesbian and attempt suicide, I saw them retaliate as a defense mechanism. I knew I was leaning gay, but I knew I couldn't come out or I'd be bullied even more. I was poor, wore torn ragged clothes. Other kids would kick me in the hallways, even in front of my own mother, who couldn't really do anything without going to jail herself. Other teachers would make fun of me in front of the class, I remember the math teacher especially did this in the seventh grade. Or was it eighth?... I remember Sarah, this really cute chick I had a crush on, blond, in the yuppy sect of students, the rich kids, and we'd eye each other in classes and never talk, because I think we both knew we were of different "classes" and didn't want to attract bullies, but I'm pretty sure we both liked each other. I remember Aaron, Russian kid I was best friends with for a long time. Eric, he died drowning. Kenton and Kendall, rich kids but were kind of cool until Kenton hit puberty and became a jocky dickfuck. Jason, my best friend for a very long time. James, my boyfriend for 10 years, and I broke up with him because he was concerned about his rich family not approving and didn't want to come out, rock the boat, lose their financial support, so I wanted to date others while staying friends, which I then met Rowan, and the off-and-on turmoil began to happen. I eventually met my girlfriend during that, and the 'event' happened. Then I became homeless, and now I'm here.
I had suicidal thoughts way back when I was five years old. At that age, I didn't know what those thoughts or feelings meant. I just knew I felt something, so I drew a picture of me slitting my throat while hanging myself and showed my mother. I think she was shocked or thought it was a joke, so she didn't do anything. Anyone who has ever known me, been friends with me, hated me, worked with me - anyone who has ever known me to any significant degree will tell you, "That boy ain't right." There is very clearly a mental illness that I have that is undiagnosed. A previous psychiatrist did note I had mental trauma, which is the closest I've gotten to a diagnosis - PTSD-"like" symptoms. Personally, I think I have Borderline, or something with a lot of similar symptoms, along with something similar to PTSD.
I am intelligent. I am incredibly good at writing. I do freelance writing for pay, commission work. That's how I make money, living off-grid out here on my parents' weed farm. I have a bachelor's in political science, dean's honor roll, 3.8 GPA, I've been in college for psychology and paralegal studies, but didn't finish. I have dreamt for a long time that if I ever had the ability, I'd go back and get degrees in those. Previous I tests put me at about 120, which is pretty above average, but I think most IQ tests overly focus on math skills, and I suck ass at math. I am extremely good at reading people, body language, making my own little mental psychological profiles of people. I dreamt of being some kind of profiler or investigator.
I want to die because, as I've said to others, this is how I describe my emotional state: Imagine a scale, it's vertical. At the tippy top in the sky, 100, is you just got married, won the lottery, and had a kid - it's the most amount of happiness your brain is physically able of processing at once, you physically, literally cannot feel more happy than that. At 0, it is basically an active suicide attempt, the lowest you can ever feel. 50 is basically nothing, you woke up and brushed your teeth, you feel nothing in that moment one way or the other. I am basically, at absolutely all times, at best, a 45 or 40 - I am constantly feeling like everything just kind of sucks a little bit. I then have incredible moodswings, where I try to poison myself, I twirl a revolver in my hand and laugh, hoping it goes off on accident and shoots me, or I go to a manic state and get incredibly horny, want to go into "party mode", drink a lot and play a game or watch a movie and joke around with the very few friends I have. I am massively unstable, to the point that I cannot really hold down a job. I've only had one job long-term, for 3 years, at Office Depot, and I sucked at that job. The only reason I had that job for that long is my girlfriend was cheating on me with managers, and after that, they felt they couldn't hold me accountable, since, you know.
So, yes. My boyfriend breaking up with me for about the 30th time has a lot to do with it. But even if that were the only reason, which it's not, I think that's a valid enough reason. But really, I'm extremely fucked up as a person, I'm a leech to everyone around me, I'm toxic to be around, I'm potentially dangerous to others. I don't want to live, I hate the way I feel all the time, I think it's unfair to tell someone, "You know, you just gotta tough it out," so people telling me that I have a life sentence of just WANTING TO FUCKING DIE, fuck them. They have no idea what that feeling is like, and when it's ever-present, for your whole God damn life. And when everyone treats you like dog shit, and when you know you're fucking smarter than them, and the world is just too stupid for you.
I also previously had a girlfriend who abandoned me, walked out of the apartment as I was out for a walk, I came back to an empty home. Lost my home and job after that. She also cheated on me, A LOT, including with managers I had worked with, which is part of why I lost my job. She also went to the police and charged me with domestic violence when I got angry at her and pushed her against her computer table when I found out about the cheating, asked if we could be monogomous, and she said no. I snapped and broke, and the biggest regret of my life ever happened in that moment. During this relationship as well, I had a mental breakdown. I drank, a lot. More than I wanted to, I'd actually want to stop and would force myself to drink more, puke, then wash down the vomit with more booze, knew I had an abscess that could infect my bloodstream and kill me via sepsis and kept doing it. Why? I wanted to die, I knew if I kept it up, I'd die. I did kind of succeed, because I now have chronic pancreatitis, and approximately 15 years to live, based on statistics. I still drink, too. Because really, why stop? It's not like I give a fuck about living.
Then you got the stereotypical stuff. I was bullied in school, I saw LGBT kids I was in school with get bullied for being gay or lesbian and attempt suicide, I saw them retaliate as a defense mechanism. I knew I was leaning gay, but I knew I couldn't come out or I'd be bullied even more. I was poor, wore torn ragged clothes. Other kids would kick me in the hallways, even in front of my own mother, who couldn't really do anything without going to jail herself. Other teachers would make fun of me in front of the class, I remember the math teacher especially did this in the seventh grade. Or was it eighth?... I remember Sarah, this really cute chick I had a crush on, blond, in the yuppy sect of students, the rich kids, and we'd eye each other in classes and never talk, because I think we both knew we were of different "classes" and didn't want to attract bullies, but I'm pretty sure we both liked each other. I remember Aaron, Russian kid I was best friends with for a long time. Eric, he died drowning. Kenton and Kendall, rich kids but were kind of cool until Kenton hit puberty and became a jocky dickfuck. Jason, my best friend for a very long time. James, my boyfriend for 10 years, and I broke up with him because he was concerned about his rich family not approving and didn't want to come out, rock the boat, lose their financial support, so I wanted to date others while staying friends, which I then met Rowan, and the off-and-on turmoil began to happen. I eventually met my girlfriend during that, and the 'event' happened. Then I became homeless, and now I'm here.
I had suicidal thoughts way back when I was five years old. At that age, I didn't know what those thoughts or feelings meant. I just knew I felt something, so I drew a picture of me slitting my throat while hanging myself and showed my mother. I think she was shocked or thought it was a joke, so she didn't do anything. Anyone who has ever known me, been friends with me, hated me, worked with me - anyone who has ever known me to any significant degree will tell you, "That boy ain't right." There is very clearly a mental illness that I have that is undiagnosed. A previous psychiatrist did note I had mental trauma, which is the closest I've gotten to a diagnosis - PTSD-"like" symptoms. Personally, I think I have Borderline, or something with a lot of similar symptoms, along with something similar to PTSD.
I am intelligent. I am incredibly good at writing. I do freelance writing for pay, commission work. That's how I make money, living off-grid out here on my parents' weed farm. I have a bachelor's in political science, dean's honor roll, 3.8 GPA, I've been in college for psychology and paralegal studies, but didn't finish. I have dreamt for a long time that if I ever had the ability, I'd go back and get degrees in those. Previous I tests put me at about 120, which is pretty above average, but I think most IQ tests overly focus on math skills, and I suck ass at math. I am extremely good at reading people, body language, making my own little mental psychological profiles of people. I dreamt of being some kind of profiler or investigator.
I want to die because, as I've said to others, this is how I describe my emotional state: Imagine a scale, it's vertical. At the tippy top in the sky, 100, is you just got married, won the lottery, and had a kid - it's the most amount of happiness your brain is physically able of processing at once, you physically, literally cannot feel more happy than that. At 0, it is basically an active suicide attempt, the lowest you can ever feel. 50 is basically nothing, you woke up and brushed your teeth, you feel nothing in that moment one way or the other. I am basically, at absolutely all times, at best, a 45 or 40 - I am constantly feeling like everything just kind of sucks a little bit. I then have incredible moodswings, where I try to poison myself, I twirl a revolver in my hand and laugh, hoping it goes off on accident and shoots me, or I go to a manic state and get incredibly horny, want to go into "party mode", drink a lot and play a game or watch a movie and joke around with the very few friends I have. I am massively unstable, to the point that I cannot really hold down a job. I've only had one job long-term, for 3 years, at Office Depot, and I sucked at that job. The only reason I had that job for that long is my girlfriend was cheating on me with managers, and after that, they felt they couldn't hold me accountable, since, you know.
So, yes. My boyfriend breaking up with me for about the 30th time has a lot to do with it. But even if that were the only reason, which it's not, I think that's a valid enough reason. But really, I'm extremely fucked up as a person, I'm a leech to everyone around me, I'm toxic to be around, I'm potentially dangerous to others. I don't want to live, I hate the way I feel all the time, I think it's unfair to tell someone, "You know, you just gotta tough it out," so people telling me that I have a life sentence of just WANTING TO FUCKING DIE, fuck them. They have no idea what that feeling is like, and when it's ever-present, for your whole God damn life. And when everyone treats you like dog shit, and when you know you're fucking smarter than them, and the world is just too stupid for you.
