I know what people will say. They'll say I'm here to reach out. To find help. But that just isn't the case. I don't want anything from anyone. This life has always been a disaster. A prolonged suffering, of sorts. I hate it. Every last minute of it. And all of the people I have to suffer threw it, with. I can't stand them. There is something different about me. I don't fit in with this society. Never have. I try to be a good person. Everyone loves me and thinks I'm hilarious. They want to call me and talk to me. They try to provoke me to say funny things. But I find more and more that I want nothing to do with any of them. I'm not one of them. I don't have the kind of heart they do. I don't lust for money and power and stature, like they do. I don't want to see people get hurt, physically or otherwise. I have to turn my head. I can't watch a person cry for love gone south or the death of a loved one. As well, I can't watch acts of violence, either. I can't watch their suffering with a blissful smile. I don't belong here. I can't tell others because no one cares to hear it. I'm the problem, I know. WHY? Why am I not like them? Why can't I find my lust for money and power and stature, like they do?
I know, I know. I'm not making any sense. I've wanted very little from this life. But here I am. 44 and all alone and recently, striving to increase that, for some reason. I don't want to talk to others, unless I have to and even then, I want it kept brief. I long for death, while making plans for the future because I'm too weak to take my life. I long for a disease that will take me. But nothing. I lay in bed and wish, intensely, that for some reason, any reason, I wont wake up in the morning. But I do. How will I ever muddle through, till death finally finds me? I just don't know.
My impatience with others has grown, also. Grown drastically. I've threatened to kill a couple of strangers and I wonder to myself, sometimes, if I could actually kill one of them. Kill them and myself, all in one swift action. It seems I hate everyone, for one reason or another. I'm just not one of them. I just missed something when I was growing up. I didn't develop right, or something.
When it comes down to it, there's nothing left here for me. Killing someone, other than myself, would probably never help to make me feel better. It doesn't address any of the problems. But for some reason, it seems so appealing, sometimes. But I don't think it's in me. If I could, I'd walk away. Simply walk away from everything and everyone, who knows me. Surely, death would find me then.
Like I said, I don't know why I'm here. I don't want anyone's "so called" help. This isn't something that can be treated. I just wanted to tell someone. I don't know why. I really just don't know why.
Believe me I know what you are feeling. From time to time I feel as though people are a burden. To be honest reading some of the things you wrote reminds me of myself, I know I may have written this recently but its true. I do enjoy performing certain things in life but I am not sure whether I can do it for the rest of my life which is to solve problems for others. To be honest though I dont know how much of my input helped individuals in overcoming their depression based problems.
Just wondering, you are 44, Im 25, what can I do differently to you so that I have something to look into when I reach 40+? Sometimes I feel that I wont make life beyond 30 even though I dont plan anything like it nor do I think of life transpiring beyond that age. Thanks
I can definitely identify with many of your sentiments. I, too, wonder if my upbringing and the seclusion I subjected myself to helped create an unfixable man. I have no real driving purpose. I was raised in a fundamentalist church and wholly believed what I was taught until I began to realize how malicious, hypocritical, manipulative, and savage some of the "men of God" were. Ever since I was about nine or ten, I came to realize that material things and money did not make me happy.
I don't want a lot of friends; even though I cherish the handful who seemingly have genuine love for me. I put graduate school aside to pursue an unconventional job that I thought could make me happy. I thought I was getting closer to being happy until the novelty wore off. My career is going well, but I'm still very depressed at times, with only the eventual hypomania to look forward to.
I feel like I keep searching for band-aids to quell my deeply-rooted sorrow: medication, alcohol, painkillers, work, and recently intimacy. Regretfully, I have developed strong feelings for a young woman I work with. She is an amazing woman, but I am angry at myself for wanting anything but friendship from her. I'm not even sure I can trust these feelings: Are they delusional? Could she possibly feel the same way I do?
I've never even been in a serious relationship. I usually isolate myself, because, in part, I do not want to be hurt or rejected again. I regret her approaching me to talk and interjecting herself in conversations I had with other people. I only have these regrets, because I am incapable of being the partner she deserves. Because I can compose myself for work and social settings, I know she has no idea what kind of flawed, afflicted man lies beneath the exterior.
I don't even think I could contribute to society positively without medication. I tried going off of my medication over a year ago when I was feeling better, but eventually I became so depressed I could hardly bear the thought of waking to see another day. Suicide was becoming a very real option.
In the fairly recent past, I harbored some violent thoughts towards strangers and acquaintances. However, I always felt these feelings were irrational and knew I never wanted to hurt anyone; I just wanted an end to my own suffering.
I'm not always this depressed and morose, but I regardless of my mood swings, whether elated or deflated, I know that nothing in this world will heal me or bring me true contentment.