Aa
Is there something wrong with me?
I'm going to be frank. Please don't dismiss this as teenage angst. Believe me, until the age of 17, I was a cow. I was horrible. I've done the teenage thing, and I think I've grown up a lot. I'm just going to rant, because I need to, and explain what is going on in my head, because it's not normal, and I finally know it's not normal. I just don't know why my brain does this... am I normal, or should I seek help? My family has a history of depression, and for some reason, bipolar is common. I don't believe that I am bipolar. I do believe that I am in trouble, however, and the internet... well, that offers the anomity that people like me need, right? I don't know how to explain what's going on in my head. I think I'd like a psychiatrist... I'd like someone to rip apart my mind and tell me why I'm doing this... but they are expensive and I don't want the mental health stigma. Basically... do I -need- help, or just a good friend? How can I fight against what's happening? Do I seem to have any real mental health problem? Without pretending to be a real diagnosis (no offense, but of course, this site is just for advice), do I seem to fit with any condition? I need advice. I'll try to explain.
My mother is lovely, her mother was bipolar. Maybe she wasn't, but it seems that way. Just before she died of cancer, she completely flipped. On my father's side, and he is the most amazing, charasmatic, intelligent, humerous, rational and balanced person I have ever had the good luck to know, (I'm a daddy's girl, you can tell. I don't think I'm alone in thinking he's amazing. Nine out of ten strangers instinctively love him. He works miracles with antisocial people at his work), I had two great-aunts who killed themselves, one almost definitely bipolar. I have several relatives who have been diagnosed as bipolar, or with such tendencies. That said, I was lucky; I have an entirely amazing family, I am incredibly happy at home and I love my family more than life itself. You know what keeps me alive? Yeah, guess. I tell myself it's arrogant, but I don't give a flying one what happens to me. Ever. But I could NEVER EVER hurt them by killing myself. That keeps me alive. I was going to kill myself once; really going to. I had everything lined up, ready to go, and then I remembered how my mother spent three months sitting up crying at night when my grandfather died, when nobody would see her. I could never put her through that. But me? Eh, who cares about -me-? I don't. I've threatened to cut someone's eyes out before they went for my father. My father, who is tough and had a rough upbringing and managed to be utterly incredible. If they'd laid one finger... dear god, I know what I would have done. Anger, you say, but I -don't care- if they'd killed me. What does that matter? I'm old fashioned that way. I was raised by such incredible people (and I'm a misanthropist. I don't like people. I'm not naive, I'm not blindly loyal to -anyone-) and I would rather burn in hell for all eternity than see them suffer one millisecond. I would suffer forever to make them happy. I think that's normal. I think everyone feels like that about their families... or a lot of people do. It's just that I'm a stressy worrier. I'm naturally protective.
I'm nineteen, but I've given up hope of having my own family. I have no illusions in that aspect. I'm still...you know. Because I couldn't do it with someone who I didn't trust completely, and I've haven't had a relationship with that level of trust for a long time. I still say 'do it'. I'm such a child. I manage to be pretty perverted from a distance. You know, hormones. Bleargh. If someone I liked actually became a possibility, I'd lose interest. I haven't had a relationship that's serious. The one guy I've been in a relationship that I liked, maybe even loved, I chased away and now hasn't been even a friend for over a year. He seems all settled now and life goes on. I tend to like guys who I think are arseholes. That's destructive, right? End up the beaten partner, that kind of thing. They all end up being hot air. They're all facades, improperly constructed. I don't stalk. I had a friend who was a stalker; it tragicomic. I lose interest almost instantly. The point is, I don't EVER see myself in a serious relationship. Not as in how a promiscous person doesn't, as in... it's beyond...everything. I don't see myself being in love. Ever. I think it'd utterly destroy me. I don't see myself being a mother. It doesn't make me sad... kind of melancholy sometimes, but resigned to that fate. I feel sorry for my parents who want to be grandparents sometimes. I'd be a horrific mother. I don't see the picket fence in my future.
I don't see the future at all. I don't see myself past twenty-five. There's no bravery in suicide. It's just that I'm a massive coward whatever way you view it. Scared to live... scared to...not the bit after dying. You're dead, you're dead. I can't say, you can't say. It's just the dying bit doesn't seem a walk in the park, and having accidentally knicked some veins and all that in the past, I've learnt it isn't fun. Still, I can't see me at seventy-nine dying at bed? I see myself burning out before I'm thirty. I don't believe in long term plans before that.
I am going to destroy myself. I see that now. I see it clearer than ever before. You know what? That's not enough to stop me doing that. I will destroy myself, and I will laugh as I crumble. I am the only constant that I can destroy completely and utterly. My happiness, my fulfillment is the only one I will allow myself to stand in the way of. I cannot allow myself to happy. Ever. I crush my own dreams. I am only happy when I cannot have something I want. I feel like... I thwart my own contentment. I'm badtempered. I know I am. I am horribly foul tempered. I am argumentative. I am stubborn. At least, I used to be. Some days, I feel I could defeat anything. The only thing I cannot compete against it myself; equally matched, I battle against the part of me that will destroy me and lose again and again. I'm too tired to fight any more. I just want to give up.
I drink too much. Way too much. I get drunk and fall asleep with my head wedged behind the toilet. I have a friend who is a fantastic. I had a friend who was fantastic. He wrote these stories... about people who destroy themselves and fall asleep with their drunken head wedged behind the loo, only they didn't do it every other tuesday and wake up tasting vomit and beer and the veggie burger they ate at 3.a.m.The student life, only I get drunk on my own and I wake up and hate myself. I used to smoke. Two years, in the end quite heavily. I did it because I thought it'd kill me if I stuck at it. You can blame someone for suicide, but for a disease? I gave up cold turkey. Nothing else, what else did I diserve? I used to write. I used to want to be an author. I'm not arrogant, then again, I'm endlessly egotistical. Every word I puke out of my venom-laden puke-hole begins with 'I'. My teachers used to like my literature. I used to write so much. I used to carry a notebook and write my ideas down whenever they hit. They haven't hit for three or years more. I delete my stories on the computer. I shred what I draw. I will never regret that. I had a creative urge which talent would never fulfill. Only, it’s been three years or more of drawing and writing what I’ve writen before, what I’ve drawn before. I’m in limbo; repeating, repeating, the stories, the mistakes.
My mother is lovely, her mother was bipolar. Maybe she wasn't, but it seems that way. Just before she died of cancer, she completely flipped. On my father's side, and he is the most amazing, charasmatic, intelligent, humerous, rational and balanced person I have ever had the good luck to know, (I'm a daddy's girl, you can tell. I don't think I'm alone in thinking he's amazing. Nine out of ten strangers instinctively love him. He works miracles with antisocial people at his work), I had two great-aunts who killed themselves, one almost definitely bipolar. I have several relatives who have been diagnosed as bipolar, or with such tendencies. That said, I was lucky; I have an entirely amazing family, I am incredibly happy at home and I love my family more than life itself. You know what keeps me alive? Yeah, guess. I tell myself it's arrogant, but I don't give a flying one what happens to me. Ever. But I could NEVER EVER hurt them by killing myself. That keeps me alive. I was going to kill myself once; really going to. I had everything lined up, ready to go, and then I remembered how my mother spent three months sitting up crying at night when my grandfather died, when nobody would see her. I could never put her through that. But me? Eh, who cares about -me-? I don't. I've threatened to cut someone's eyes out before they went for my father. My father, who is tough and had a rough upbringing and managed to be utterly incredible. If they'd laid one finger... dear god, I know what I would have done. Anger, you say, but I -don't care- if they'd killed me. What does that matter? I'm old fashioned that way. I was raised by such incredible people (and I'm a misanthropist. I don't like people. I'm not naive, I'm not blindly loyal to -anyone-) and I would rather burn in hell for all eternity than see them suffer one millisecond. I would suffer forever to make them happy. I think that's normal. I think everyone feels like that about their families... or a lot of people do. It's just that I'm a stressy worrier. I'm naturally protective.
I'm nineteen, but I've given up hope of having my own family. I have no illusions in that aspect. I'm still...you know. Because I couldn't do it with someone who I didn't trust completely, and I've haven't had a relationship with that level of trust for a long time. I still say 'do it'. I'm such a child. I manage to be pretty perverted from a distance. You know, hormones. Bleargh. If someone I liked actually became a possibility, I'd lose interest. I haven't had a relationship that's serious. The one guy I've been in a relationship that I liked, maybe even loved, I chased away and now hasn't been even a friend for over a year. He seems all settled now and life goes on. I tend to like guys who I think are arseholes. That's destructive, right? End up the beaten partner, that kind of thing. They all end up being hot air. They're all facades, improperly constructed. I don't stalk. I had a friend who was a stalker; it tragicomic. I lose interest almost instantly. The point is, I don't EVER see myself in a serious relationship. Not as in how a promiscous person doesn't, as in... it's beyond...everything. I don't see myself being in love. Ever. I think it'd utterly destroy me. I don't see myself being a mother. It doesn't make me sad... kind of melancholy sometimes, but resigned to that fate. I feel sorry for my parents who want to be grandparents sometimes. I'd be a horrific mother. I don't see the picket fence in my future.
I don't see the future at all. I don't see myself past twenty-five. There's no bravery in suicide. It's just that I'm a massive coward whatever way you view it. Scared to live... scared to...not the bit after dying. You're dead, you're dead. I can't say, you can't say. It's just the dying bit doesn't seem a walk in the park, and having accidentally knicked some veins and all that in the past, I've learnt it isn't fun. Still, I can't see me at seventy-nine dying at bed? I see myself burning out before I'm thirty. I don't believe in long term plans before that.
I am going to destroy myself. I see that now. I see it clearer than ever before. You know what? That's not enough to stop me doing that. I will destroy myself, and I will laugh as I crumble. I am the only constant that I can destroy completely and utterly. My happiness, my fulfillment is the only one I will allow myself to stand in the way of. I cannot allow myself to happy. Ever. I crush my own dreams. I am only happy when I cannot have something I want. I feel like... I thwart my own contentment. I'm badtempered. I know I am. I am horribly foul tempered. I am argumentative. I am stubborn. At least, I used to be. Some days, I feel I could defeat anything. The only thing I cannot compete against it myself; equally matched, I battle against the part of me that will destroy me and lose again and again. I'm too tired to fight any more. I just want to give up.
I drink too much. Way too much. I get drunk and fall asleep with my head wedged behind the toilet. I have a friend who is a fantastic. I had a friend who was fantastic. He wrote these stories... about people who destroy themselves and fall asleep with their drunken head wedged behind the loo, only they didn't do it every other tuesday and wake up tasting vomit and beer and the veggie burger they ate at 3.a.m.The student life, only I get drunk on my own and I wake up and hate myself. I used to smoke. Two years, in the end quite heavily. I did it because I thought it'd kill me if I stuck at it. You can blame someone for suicide, but for a disease? I gave up cold turkey. Nothing else, what else did I diserve? I used to write. I used to want to be an author. I'm not arrogant, then again, I'm endlessly egotistical. Every word I puke out of my venom-laden puke-hole begins with 'I'. My teachers used to like my literature. I used to write so much. I used to carry a notebook and write my ideas down whenever they hit. They haven't hit for three or years more. I delete my stories on the computer. I shred what I draw. I will never regret that. I had a creative urge which talent would never fulfill. Only, it’s been three years or more of drawing and writing what I’ve writen before, what I’ve drawn before. I’m in limbo; repeating, repeating, the stories, the mistakes.
After first few paragraphs of what you wrote a thought crossed my mind "wow i love how this is written" and then i saw that you used to write. I smilled to myself - that explains it. I think you should keep writing! Im 26 and just went back to college for a new major - English and Literature. Maybe its something you should look into, from what i read here i think you would be great at this!
When i was 20 i also didnt think ill make it pass 30, but now that im almost there i really do hope i make it pass 30 :)) and so will u!
as far as your God questions - why are you still here while other people suffer - this is simple. You are here for a reason, maybe you are destined to do something great one day, maybe your child will cure cancer, therefore we kinda need you to stick around. Or maybe you are meant to make a difference in one persons life and that will be enough. One day you will understand the reason God spared you and protects you from harm. And all your life struggles will also make sence, as they are lessons that you will one day need.
(dont think im crazy religious, i just believe that everyone is here for a reason)
iam1butterfly - thank you for posting those books, i put them on my to read list :)
When i was 20 i also didnt think ill make it pass 30, but now that im almost there i really do hope i make it pass 30 :)) and so will u!
as far as your God questions - why are you still here while other people suffer - this is simple. You are here for a reason, maybe you are destined to do something great one day, maybe your child will cure cancer, therefore we kinda need you to stick around. Or maybe you are meant to make a difference in one persons life and that will be enough. One day you will understand the reason God spared you and protects you from harm. And all your life struggles will also make sence, as they are lessons that you will one day need.
(dont think im crazy religious, i just believe that everyone is here for a reason)
iam1butterfly - thank you for posting those books, i put them on my to read list :)
You sound just just like me in my late teens and early 20s.I can tell you're very intelligent and creative,You say you used to write but you don't anymore what you have written here shows a great depth to your persona.You do need counselling to learn to live with who you are,don't ever be ashamed or lose you individuality.You sound like a wonderful person with a depth so vast you're finding it hard to live with.
Just remember we were not put on this earth to be just like everyone else,you need to embrace your different views on life,and go with them.If you ever write a book I'd love to read it.Feel free to talk to me anytime either on the forum or you can PM me. Denise
Just remember we were not put on this earth to be just like everyone else,you need to embrace your different views on life,and go with them.If you ever write a book I'd love to read it.Feel free to talk to me anytime either on the forum or you can PM me. Denise
I had a similar feeling when I was in my early 20s. I was very hard on myself and felt worthless, unlovable, lacking in talent and abilities... I felt as though I didn't "fit in" anywhere... I felt like I was a total misfit and a loser.... and, all of these feelings bottled up within me and turned me into an unmotivated, anti-social recluse.
Then, in 1978 a college Sociology professor required us to read 2 books which, literally changed my view on life and compelled me to redefine the way that I saw myself.
Those books, which I highly recommend that you consider reading are, "Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I am" by John Powell and "The Book on the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are" by Alan W. Watts. The Watts book attacks the problem of alienation while the Powell book is a helpful guide for constructive self-awareness, personal growth and inter-personal communication.
Fortunately, these 2 books are still around and should be easy and inexpensive to obtain. They helped me find focus, direction and, most importantly, Hope during a very difficult, dark and dreary time in my youth. Perhaps, they'll help you... take care!
Then, in 1978 a college Sociology professor required us to read 2 books which, literally changed my view on life and compelled me to redefine the way that I saw myself.
Those books, which I highly recommend that you consider reading are, "Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I am" by John Powell and "The Book on the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are" by Alan W. Watts. The Watts book attacks the problem of alienation while the Powell book is a helpful guide for constructive self-awareness, personal growth and inter-personal communication.
Fortunately, these 2 books are still around and should be easy and inexpensive to obtain. They helped me find focus, direction and, most importantly, Hope during a very difficult, dark and dreary time in my youth. Perhaps, they'll help you... take care!
Hi,
So glad to meet you. Even better ..so glad you found this forum and can get it all out.
You absolutely need a good therapist. F..k the label. That is sooo yesterday.
I am old enough to be your gram, so I know. Been there. Done that.
Sound as though BiPolar may be a condition you have inherited. I have read Kay Jamison's (think that is author's name) books. She is doc, is bipolar, and makes a point that super creative, intelligent humans are prone to this condition.
Can you ask dad to help you unravel this? Take to psychiatrist? Often a shrink will see you and family member if that's what you want first visit.
Get the help you deserve, girl! You wouldn't hesitate if you thought you had a physical problem....so go!
Best,
Ann
So glad to meet you. Even better ..so glad you found this forum and can get it all out.
You absolutely need a good therapist. F..k the label. That is sooo yesterday.
I am old enough to be your gram, so I know. Been there. Done that.
Sound as though BiPolar may be a condition you have inherited. I have read Kay Jamison's (think that is author's name) books. She is doc, is bipolar, and makes a point that super creative, intelligent humans are prone to this condition.
Can you ask dad to help you unravel this? Take to psychiatrist? Often a shrink will see you and family member if that's what you want first visit.
Get the help you deserve, girl! You wouldn't hesitate if you thought you had a physical problem....so go!
Best,
Ann
Hey there....
First of all, Take a DEEP breath!! Everything will be ok!!!!
Second of all.... its really nice to meet you and hopefully chat with you!!!
Im no professional in this whole depression thing and that but have been through a lot of ups and downs over the past year!! I really would like to help you, i know how it feels to feel so so alone..
Im only 22 yrs old and totally know where your coming from with all this! You seem to have a lot of emotion built up inside you!!! And its really good that you have come some where to talk.... Even if it is over the internet it still helps.....
I think your are probably depressed again taking into account Im NOT a professional this is just my opinion! You seem helpless and hopeless but I promise you it will get better you just need to reach out for help!!!!
You NEED to see someone and talk about how you are feeling.. I myself go for counselling and think it helps a lot!!! Keeping things locked up inside wont do you any good... There is nothing wrong with asking for help, we all need it from time to time... We had a mental health week at college a short time ago and the saying was:
"Talking is not a sign of weakness, its a sign of strenght"
You know it takes a lot for someone to talk about their most private and inner feelings... Its a sign of wanting happiness!! Nothing wrong with that!
Dont feel like you will have a label following you around for the rest of your life cause you wont!!! This is just a bad patch in life, its like a season in your life, with the right help it will get better!!!!! Dont sit back and watch it ruin you....
Im always here if you need to talk! Talking is a great way to understand what going on... I would really like to help you... But to do that YOU need to help yourself first!!!
Jen x
First of all, Take a DEEP breath!! Everything will be ok!!!!
Second of all.... its really nice to meet you and hopefully chat with you!!!
Im no professional in this whole depression thing and that but have been through a lot of ups and downs over the past year!! I really would like to help you, i know how it feels to feel so so alone..
Im only 22 yrs old and totally know where your coming from with all this! You seem to have a lot of emotion built up inside you!!! And its really good that you have come some where to talk.... Even if it is over the internet it still helps.....
I think your are probably depressed again taking into account Im NOT a professional this is just my opinion! You seem helpless and hopeless but I promise you it will get better you just need to reach out for help!!!!
You NEED to see someone and talk about how you are feeling.. I myself go for counselling and think it helps a lot!!! Keeping things locked up inside wont do you any good... There is nothing wrong with asking for help, we all need it from time to time... We had a mental health week at college a short time ago and the saying was:
"Talking is not a sign of weakness, its a sign of strenght"
You know it takes a lot for someone to talk about their most private and inner feelings... Its a sign of wanting happiness!! Nothing wrong with that!
Dont feel like you will have a label following you around for the rest of your life cause you wont!!! This is just a bad patch in life, its like a season in your life, with the right help it will get better!!!!! Dont sit back and watch it ruin you....
Im always here if you need to talk! Talking is a great way to understand what going on... I would really like to help you... But to do that YOU need to help yourself first!!!
Jen x
I did a course I hate.
I’m crap at it.
You know what I love? Philosophy. I got full marks in two papers in A level. It was an achievement I actually appreciated. I didn’t do it at uni. I wanted a challenge. I live, breathe philosophy. I buy a philosophy book every other week. I haunt the philosophy sections of bookstores. I quote, I argue. I need it like a crutch. I can’t say I could do a philosophy course, I’d fail it like everything else, because not trying is easier than failing when you put your soul into something. Failing hurts less when you don’t try. I could put my all into everything. I love philosophy. I love physics. I love chemistry. I love literature. I love saying ‘what is reality?’. If I did something I love, I’d still fail, and it’d hurt. Just die easily, having failed, having never tried. I LET LIFE FREAKING PASS ME BY! WHY DO I DO THAT? Since I was TINY all I have EVER wanted to do is see the world. I turn down every oppurtunity. I turn every chance to succeed. To stagnate is agony, and I choose to stagnate because it’s easier than being forced to. I will NEVER have what I want. It’s easier not to try. So when it came to courses, I chose my weakness and created my hell, but at least it was a hell of my own devising. I’ll be lucky to graduate. I fail, but I was always going to fail.
I hate people. I hate people, I hate people, I hate people. I used to love people. Really love them. I used to want to help the world, change the world. I used to cry at the news. I used to see the suffering and say, maybe, if I can stop one person living in the hell the world has forced them into I will, I WOULD, I WOULD. I was the soft touch. I saw the people who my friends called freaks as ‘freaks’ because of society, not inheriently. They were victims, society had made them what they were. I still cry at the news. I still cry because I AM STILL ALIVE while other, more worthy people, die. I pray to god, saying kill me, give me the disease, let the lovely person dying of something horrible get my years ahead of me, and I get their last days of agony, and then I die and everyone gets mysterious amnesia and never remembers me, and says ‘Jasna, who?’, even my own mother. I AM NOT WORTH THE TIME WASTED ON ME. Somewhere, someone’s incredible son who will change the world and make it better is dying, am I, the unworthy worm, am still alive? HOW IS THAT FAIR? HOW IS THAT FREAKING FAIR?
I hate people, because it’s easier than trying to be liked and being rejected. I have been rejected so much. Up until the age of nearly seventeen, every friend I ever had betrayed me, stabbed me in the back and left me alone and then when I thought I’d found proper friendship they left. University, of course, where the people ignore me and think I’m bland and quiet because I...just...can’t. I cannot trust anyone. I can’t even trust myself. I call myself a misanthropist. I am unforgiving of other’s failings. Of how they care for their own, sod the rest. I hate myself the most. I am the worst human being I’ve ever met. Every time I think I hate myself more than I thought possible, I uncover a new layer of myself I loathe more than before. I am disgusting. I am worthless. I am a spiteful, snivelling, pathetic wimp. I hate myself because I AM SO WEAK. I am weak, I am weak, I am weak, I AM WEAK. I was never weak before. I was angry. I was full of rage; I would fight, I would argue, and now that I am more mellowed, I have no anger... no passion, I guess. I am a husk of a human being. I am puerile. I should not exist. I am full of bitterness and cynism.
I am always looking back. I have no future. I have no reason to be. I should just turn to dust in a corner.
I hate people. I don’t know why. It’s like my brain has decided that everyone will hurt me, and I remember the person I used to be, who I can never be again. I used to be freaking NICE. I used to care. I used to be full of anger and belief and desire to change things and love and convictions. I used to laugh, I used to sit with my grandfather and argue through the night. Then I grew up. Everything has crumbled away like dust. Nothing is left. I am nothing. I have lost what I was, and I have lost what I could have been. I have no faith, no charm, no charisma. Strangers scare me. I act shy, even though I remember how outgoing I used to be. I’ll take risks that’ll kill me, but I shy away from social risks. I have no friends. They’ve moved on. My life never will. I am bitter and I am cynical and I am twisted. I am full of impotent hate and sadness. I have lost EVERYTHING I was. I hate it. I hate it more than ever.
I cannot be optimistic. I cannot believe that things will change. I cannot believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel for me. I am one of the people of the world designated to die alone and unloved. I cannot allow anyone new close to me. I act weirdly, I do weird things. I used to be two people – one sad, one hyperactive. I’ve run out of energy to explain, but now it’s the voice in my head that tells me I can’t do anything as simple as walking out of the front door without looking like an ugly, stupid, worthless moron, a blight on this earth, that will vanquish all.
I could go on. There is more. But I think this is enough.
What’s wrong with me?
I’m crap at it.
You know what I love? Philosophy. I got full marks in two papers in A level. It was an achievement I actually appreciated. I didn’t do it at uni. I wanted a challenge. I live, breathe philosophy. I buy a philosophy book every other week. I haunt the philosophy sections of bookstores. I quote, I argue. I need it like a crutch. I can’t say I could do a philosophy course, I’d fail it like everything else, because not trying is easier than failing when you put your soul into something. Failing hurts less when you don’t try. I could put my all into everything. I love philosophy. I love physics. I love chemistry. I love literature. I love saying ‘what is reality?’. If I did something I love, I’d still fail, and it’d hurt. Just die easily, having failed, having never tried. I LET LIFE FREAKING PASS ME BY! WHY DO I DO THAT? Since I was TINY all I have EVER wanted to do is see the world. I turn down every oppurtunity. I turn every chance to succeed. To stagnate is agony, and I choose to stagnate because it’s easier than being forced to. I will NEVER have what I want. It’s easier not to try. So when it came to courses, I chose my weakness and created my hell, but at least it was a hell of my own devising. I’ll be lucky to graduate. I fail, but I was always going to fail.
I hate people. I hate people, I hate people, I hate people. I used to love people. Really love them. I used to want to help the world, change the world. I used to cry at the news. I used to see the suffering and say, maybe, if I can stop one person living in the hell the world has forced them into I will, I WOULD, I WOULD. I was the soft touch. I saw the people who my friends called freaks as ‘freaks’ because of society, not inheriently. They were victims, society had made them what they were. I still cry at the news. I still cry because I AM STILL ALIVE while other, more worthy people, die. I pray to god, saying kill me, give me the disease, let the lovely person dying of something horrible get my years ahead of me, and I get their last days of agony, and then I die and everyone gets mysterious amnesia and never remembers me, and says ‘Jasna, who?’, even my own mother. I AM NOT WORTH THE TIME WASTED ON ME. Somewhere, someone’s incredible son who will change the world and make it better is dying, am I, the unworthy worm, am still alive? HOW IS THAT FAIR? HOW IS THAT FREAKING FAIR?
I hate people, because it’s easier than trying to be liked and being rejected. I have been rejected so much. Up until the age of nearly seventeen, every friend I ever had betrayed me, stabbed me in the back and left me alone and then when I thought I’d found proper friendship they left. University, of course, where the people ignore me and think I’m bland and quiet because I...just...can’t. I cannot trust anyone. I can’t even trust myself. I call myself a misanthropist. I am unforgiving of other’s failings. Of how they care for their own, sod the rest. I hate myself the most. I am the worst human being I’ve ever met. Every time I think I hate myself more than I thought possible, I uncover a new layer of myself I loathe more than before. I am disgusting. I am worthless. I am a spiteful, snivelling, pathetic wimp. I hate myself because I AM SO WEAK. I am weak, I am weak, I am weak, I AM WEAK. I was never weak before. I was angry. I was full of rage; I would fight, I would argue, and now that I am more mellowed, I have no anger... no passion, I guess. I am a husk of a human being. I am puerile. I should not exist. I am full of bitterness and cynism.
I am always looking back. I have no future. I have no reason to be. I should just turn to dust in a corner.
I hate people. I don’t know why. It’s like my brain has decided that everyone will hurt me, and I remember the person I used to be, who I can never be again. I used to be freaking NICE. I used to care. I used to be full of anger and belief and desire to change things and love and convictions. I used to laugh, I used to sit with my grandfather and argue through the night. Then I grew up. Everything has crumbled away like dust. Nothing is left. I am nothing. I have lost what I was, and I have lost what I could have been. I have no faith, no charm, no charisma. Strangers scare me. I act shy, even though I remember how outgoing I used to be. I’ll take risks that’ll kill me, but I shy away from social risks. I have no friends. They’ve moved on. My life never will. I am bitter and I am cynical and I am twisted. I am full of impotent hate and sadness. I have lost EVERYTHING I was. I hate it. I hate it more than ever.
I cannot be optimistic. I cannot believe that things will change. I cannot believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel for me. I am one of the people of the world designated to die alone and unloved. I cannot allow anyone new close to me. I act weirdly, I do weird things. I used to be two people – one sad, one hyperactive. I’ve run out of energy to explain, but now it’s the voice in my head that tells me I can’t do anything as simple as walking out of the front door without looking like an ugly, stupid, worthless moron, a blight on this earth, that will vanquish all.
I could go on. There is more. But I think this is enough.
What’s wrong with me?
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