Sadocan
Member
- Oct 23, 2025
- 7
My life has been filled to the brim with experiences about indifference. I've always felt that I wasn't important to people, at all. Suffered through abuse by my uncle, bullying, in my own house, never, ever feeling protected. No one did anything to protect me. Didn't even meet my dad until I was 14. Got used to shouting, violence, bad-mouthing every day since I can remember. Tensing up and going numb whenever any family member got phisically close to me, even to this day. Lived with a textbook narcisist "step-""dad""" for like a year when I was 19. (Second closest thing I got to a father figute btw). Took care of my ill grandma. Not one single day went by where there wasn't shouting, intrigue. Even death threats. No one in my family ever bothered to teach me anything. Everything I know, I taught myself.
Every single friendship I had was me always putting in the effort. The moment I stopped, the friendships ended. I remember when I broke my arm at a party. 3 or 4 people, out of 30, at least sent me a message the day it happened to wish me a good recovery. Nothing more.
All the people I see have something going on for them. Everyone I see has friends, and it's just so natural to them. I remember painfully two "close" - I mean, as close as it gets in my case - friends of mine, who, like I said before about all my friendships, never engaged with me to see how I was doing - it was always me doing the work to remind them I exist. Then, I learned later that they still spoke to eachother. This puzzled me a lot. I wonder which one put in the effort? Then, why didn't they do the same with me?
I don't think I'm a lost cause just yet, because I still think that I'm somehow being delusional about this. Maybe my deppressed brain is just cherrypicking the moments where people don't care. Maybe people care. I'm just not seeing it. Maybe It's my fault.
Every single friendship I had was me always putting in the effort. The moment I stopped, the friendships ended. I remember when I broke my arm at a party. 3 or 4 people, out of 30, at least sent me a message the day it happened to wish me a good recovery. Nothing more.
All the people I see have something going on for them. Everyone I see has friends, and it's just so natural to them. I remember painfully two "close" - I mean, as close as it gets in my case - friends of mine, who, like I said before about all my friendships, never engaged with me to see how I was doing - it was always me doing the work to remind them I exist. Then, I learned later that they still spoke to eachother. This puzzled me a lot. I wonder which one put in the effort? Then, why didn't they do the same with me?
I don't think I'm a lost cause just yet, because I still think that I'm somehow being delusional about this. Maybe my deppressed brain is just cherrypicking the moments where people don't care. Maybe people care. I'm just not seeing it. Maybe It's my fault.
