I'm a almost 25 years old student.
I have suffered from mild depression all my life, with some acute episodes over the years alternating with somewhat better moments. The college years were important, where I met several important people, but I never changed my opinion of myself. Always unfit, ugly, unable to do many things, complicit in many episodes I experienced in my family and during my adolescence with peers. I've done many mistakes, I've lost lots of opportunities. I never had a true passion about anything. I like cinema, and I always told others I'd like to be a movie director, but the reality is that I don't have a burning flame inside me, I was more or less apathetic, a slacker. I've tried to write a couple of scripts and they were horrible. I didn't have the best atmosphere in the family: my parents love me, but their divorce truly affected me. I've always been a bit skeptical and scared by them and my sister, even though they gave everything, from a material point of view.
I've always loathed work. I think one of the reasons I started university (which was overall a good period, with very dark moments I had to go through) is to "delay" my entrance in that world. I've worked as a dog food promoter, a grape harvester (which I enjoyed a bit more because it was just two weeks), as a full time ommunication intern in Paris for 5 months (one of the most horrible experiences in my life). All of these always worsened my depression. I've always found that a system that requires you to justify your existence (otherwise you'll die on the street) is just awful. We didn't choose to come into the world. Why the fuck should I justify my life? Why do I deserve to die if I didn't want to be born in the first place? I know I've always been lazy, and weak, since I've always feared other people's opinion.
I've truly tried lots of things. I had the privilege to travel, to live abroad, to meet awesome people, with whom I've shared beautiful moments. I had a horrible body back in the days, and I started to work out to have a better appearance. I even started therapy after my "breakup". Nonetheless, I've never shaken off this depression that grips me.
I am doing a masters degree that I detest with all my being. I went abroad as an exchange student, to Canada, and I was supposed to stay there for three months. There I met a girl with whom I would slowly fall in love. Over the course of 3 months, I found we had several things in common, she was smart, witty, bright, we listened to the same music. I've even met her parents. She was also incredibly beautiful, far beyond what I could imagine getting. I decide, foolishly, to extend my stay in Canada. After these three months, one day, while I was in New York visiting (before the Christmas vacations), she tells me she no longer feels the same, crying on the phone. I was displaced. I had deluded myself that this could go on because things were going well. Instead, I was not enough. She told me there was nothing wrong with me, and that it was up to her. This excuse hides a great truth: that if I had been someone else, if I had been the right one, it would never have been this way. If I didn't have my personality, my physical appearance, my humor, or other things, she would still be attracted to me. That's not the case, but I thought it was otherwise.
She then told me that she would like to maintain a friendly relationship, which heartened me. But she never wrote me back, and never will. I'm not that important anymore, maybe I've never been.
This all took place in December. I stayed in Canada without a reason to stay there, studying useless things. Nine months have passed, and I still miss her. I miss her with all of me. I don't cry as much as I used to, but it's a quiet sorrow that I carry inside me and that doesn't make me enjoy anything anymore. I can't find joy in friends, I hardly work out anymore, I can't study because I don't see the point. She had, and will have, a respectable life, full of things to do, goals, guys who will go after her because of her stunning looks. I will have none of that. I've failed most things in my life, and it won't compare in the least to hers. I'm just waiting to die, because a life like this is no longer worth living. I will never meet someone like her again, and I will never get her back. I have been contemplating suicide for several years, but for the past nine months it has become a constant thought that I cannot get rid of, although I have tried, a few times. But the comfort of dying and thinking no more about it is far more pleasant than having to face my future life. I am 24 years old, 25 in two weeks, and in front of me I will have the old age, the lack of time, the end of freedoms, of fun, the accumulation of responsibilities. I would have liked to do all this with her, but she's gone.
Again, I'm sorry. I'm just in a very bad state, and I'm tired of this pain. I'd like to go with N, but it's not available anymore. So I guess I'll just try hanging. I feel disrespectful towards people who have way worse problems than I do. I just can't take this anymore. I still dream of her. She was the one for me, but I wasn't the one for her. Everything is insipid now.
I have suffered from mild depression all my life, with some acute episodes over the years alternating with somewhat better moments. The college years were important, where I met several important people, but I never changed my opinion of myself. Always unfit, ugly, unable to do many things, complicit in many episodes I experienced in my family and during my adolescence with peers. I've done many mistakes, I've lost lots of opportunities. I never had a true passion about anything. I like cinema, and I always told others I'd like to be a movie director, but the reality is that I don't have a burning flame inside me, I was more or less apathetic, a slacker. I've tried to write a couple of scripts and they were horrible. I didn't have the best atmosphere in the family: my parents love me, but their divorce truly affected me. I've always been a bit skeptical and scared by them and my sister, even though they gave everything, from a material point of view.
I've always loathed work. I think one of the reasons I started university (which was overall a good period, with very dark moments I had to go through) is to "delay" my entrance in that world. I've worked as a dog food promoter, a grape harvester (which I enjoyed a bit more because it was just two weeks), as a full time ommunication intern in Paris for 5 months (one of the most horrible experiences in my life). All of these always worsened my depression. I've always found that a system that requires you to justify your existence (otherwise you'll die on the street) is just awful. We didn't choose to come into the world. Why the fuck should I justify my life? Why do I deserve to die if I didn't want to be born in the first place? I know I've always been lazy, and weak, since I've always feared other people's opinion.
I've truly tried lots of things. I had the privilege to travel, to live abroad, to meet awesome people, with whom I've shared beautiful moments. I had a horrible body back in the days, and I started to work out to have a better appearance. I even started therapy after my "breakup". Nonetheless, I've never shaken off this depression that grips me.
I am doing a masters degree that I detest with all my being. I went abroad as an exchange student, to Canada, and I was supposed to stay there for three months. There I met a girl with whom I would slowly fall in love. Over the course of 3 months, I found we had several things in common, she was smart, witty, bright, we listened to the same music. I've even met her parents. She was also incredibly beautiful, far beyond what I could imagine getting. I decide, foolishly, to extend my stay in Canada. After these three months, one day, while I was in New York visiting (before the Christmas vacations), she tells me she no longer feels the same, crying on the phone. I was displaced. I had deluded myself that this could go on because things were going well. Instead, I was not enough. She told me there was nothing wrong with me, and that it was up to her. This excuse hides a great truth: that if I had been someone else, if I had been the right one, it would never have been this way. If I didn't have my personality, my physical appearance, my humor, or other things, she would still be attracted to me. That's not the case, but I thought it was otherwise.
She then told me that she would like to maintain a friendly relationship, which heartened me. But she never wrote me back, and never will. I'm not that important anymore, maybe I've never been.
This all took place in December. I stayed in Canada without a reason to stay there, studying useless things. Nine months have passed, and I still miss her. I miss her with all of me. I don't cry as much as I used to, but it's a quiet sorrow that I carry inside me and that doesn't make me enjoy anything anymore. I can't find joy in friends, I hardly work out anymore, I can't study because I don't see the point. She had, and will have, a respectable life, full of things to do, goals, guys who will go after her because of her stunning looks. I will have none of that. I've failed most things in my life, and it won't compare in the least to hers. I'm just waiting to die, because a life like this is no longer worth living. I will never meet someone like her again, and I will never get her back. I have been contemplating suicide for several years, but for the past nine months it has become a constant thought that I cannot get rid of, although I have tried, a few times. But the comfort of dying and thinking no more about it is far more pleasant than having to face my future life. I am 24 years old, 25 in two weeks, and in front of me I will have the old age, the lack of time, the end of freedoms, of fun, the accumulation of responsibilities. I would have liked to do all this with her, but she's gone.
Again, I'm sorry. I'm just in a very bad state, and I'm tired of this pain. I'd like to go with N, but it's not available anymore. So I guess I'll just try hanging. I feel disrespectful towards people who have way worse problems than I do. I just can't take this anymore. I still dream of her. She was the one for me, but I wasn't the one for her. Everything is insipid now.
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