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hyacinths
Member
- Sep 25, 2021
- 67
i think ultimately the one constant in my life that allows myself back into these depressive thoughts is me and myself alone. everyone has continually given me second chances and allowed me ample space to grow, yet i continually allow myself to stay in the same place. i am stagnant - unmoving and unchanging, unclean and unloved. yet only i am the one to blame. i do not seek out meaningful relationships, i am terrified of new people, and i continually blame others for the way that i feel about myself. friends and family do their best to support me, yet i know they all see me for the true disappointment that i am. the missed opportunities and wrong decisions that i am made apart of. it's shameful. to know that the one constant holding me back is nothing but the reflection i see in the mirror. and, oh, what a horrible image that stares back.
for so long, have i felt the feelings of being just barely not enough. i'm smart, but not smart enough. cute, but not cute enough. kind, but not kind enough. i am the middle ground of all people and there is nothing special about me except for the lack of anything i have done with my life. twenty-three with the only meaningful piece of paper to my name is a high school diploma. twenty-three with never having someone who's truly loved me in any meaningful way. twenty-three years wasted and thrown down the drain.
yet even i do not feel as if i have the right to complain about this. a steady job, a good friend group, maintaining good relationships with my parents for once. visits with a therapist i can connect with, a daily prescription to fluoxentine. everything is going right. everything is going as it should be. but yet there is an emptiness in my heart, unable to be filled by anything. drugs can only cover up a small amount of the pure despair i feel in my heart; aloe vera for a third degree burn. yet nothing has caused this - except for me. i am the sole cause. and perhaps it cannot be cured.
i cannot help but wonder if certain people were meant to be here for a short time on this earth. would i be considered one of those people? am i destined for a short life, destined to die by my own hand? i continually try over and over again to get up but yet i am still here. i am still in the ground, six feet under. no matter how hard i continue to try to dig out, only more dirt is shoved onto me. i wonder when i will finally be able to rest in this pit of my own making. i'm so tired.
for so long, have i felt the feelings of being just barely not enough. i'm smart, but not smart enough. cute, but not cute enough. kind, but not kind enough. i am the middle ground of all people and there is nothing special about me except for the lack of anything i have done with my life. twenty-three with the only meaningful piece of paper to my name is a high school diploma. twenty-three with never having someone who's truly loved me in any meaningful way. twenty-three years wasted and thrown down the drain.
yet even i do not feel as if i have the right to complain about this. a steady job, a good friend group, maintaining good relationships with my parents for once. visits with a therapist i can connect with, a daily prescription to fluoxentine. everything is going right. everything is going as it should be. but yet there is an emptiness in my heart, unable to be filled by anything. drugs can only cover up a small amount of the pure despair i feel in my heart; aloe vera for a third degree burn. yet nothing has caused this - except for me. i am the sole cause. and perhaps it cannot be cured.
i cannot help but wonder if certain people were meant to be here for a short time on this earth. would i be considered one of those people? am i destined for a short life, destined to die by my own hand? i continually try over and over again to get up but yet i am still here. i am still in the ground, six feet under. no matter how hard i continue to try to dig out, only more dirt is shoved onto me. i wonder when i will finally be able to rest in this pit of my own making. i'm so tired.