
Un-
I'm a failure. An absolute waste. A LOSEr.
- Apr 6, 2021
- 652
I think I've reached it. Sounds a bit weird to say but.. Everyone secretly knows there's levels to it. There's levels to everything: you have elementary school, primary, secondary and tertiary. You get ugly, modest, handsome. The same with depression. You get: feeling like shit every once in a while. To once every day. To every hour. To every minute. I think I've reached the bottom of the barrel to some point. I think a lot of people here have, too.
It's not important really. Even making this post is pointless. It'll be seen the wrong way. Like "I'm the most depressed (non) human being to ever exist and no one can be as depressed as me". It's not true. I'm sure there's others that are out of their gobs right now. Feeling way worse than I could ever imagine.
I don't know. What I do know is I've reached a point of no return. I find it scary to say that. Someone a few weeks ago was talking about how there's a difference between what we say because of self hate and reality. Some of us hate ourselves and call ourselves disgusting. But even though it's hard to admit, we have a semblance of self love. Like "I'm horrific, but not *that* horrific". But then you get points where you really are horrific. And the lowest to which you degrade yourself is actually the truth.
I'm there. Really. I could have money. I could have friends. I could be wherever I wanted. I could rekindle lost relationships. I could find love. I could have tons of sex. But none of them would make me happy. Nothing will make me happy. Nothing will make me feel less alone. Even though I'm typing this garbage out and thinking of everyone on this site and what you guys said. Even if I reached out. I know that I'd still end up killing myself.
I guess that's a level or two above where I'm currently sitting. I'll wrap this up quickly because you probably have something worth doing. Something better than reading some miserable fucks memoir.
I don't see the point in anything. I don't see the point in trying. In being successful. In getting lovers. In getting fucking internet points. I don't see the point of living. Not only because we're gonna die. But because we mean nothing. I mean nothing. I'll pass away and a week from now no one here would remember me. Two weeks from then, my family won't remember me. And memories and belongings of me will fade away. Like I never existed. The same will happen with you. And your kids. And your husband. And your grandpa. And your cat. Make the most of it, right? But memories don't mean anything either. When you die, you will cease to be.
Finally, the last stage. Heh. I'm so for making this so long. And painful to listen to. Something I noticed.. Second hand embarrassment. You know, when, let's say for example, you're in a classroom and you make a funny noise. How no one reacts? They're embarrassed for you. Or how you mess up a presentation? Or mess up giving an order at a restaurant? Or misspelling a word on a post? How no one points it out? It's because they're embarrassed for you. Silently. Pity. The worst kind of embarrassment. So you're reading this and feeling the same way which is understandable. I'm sorry.
I don't care how I die. I don't care if it's peaceful. I don't care if it takes me an agonizing 5 minutes or an hour to die. I don't care if the methodology involves me being hanged by my deskined self. I think I would enjoy it. I'm not sadistic but that amount of physical pain can never, and will never amount to the pain I'm currently in. Someone here said something that struck a chord. Something to the effect of: "what comforts me is the feeling of bliss, of relief that death brings. I won't have to worry about anything anymore because it won't matter to me anymore". I think that's the last level. Where you're existing because you aren't dead yet. Meaning, you're still alive because you haven't loaded a magazine in yet. You haven't ordered your sn. You haven't finished tying a rope yet. Not because you have anything of value in your life.
I doubt anyone has read this. I wouldn't read this. It's way too long. But if you have.. Thank you. Next time you see "Un-", just skip it. I'm a waste of time.
It's not important really. Even making this post is pointless. It'll be seen the wrong way. Like "I'm the most depressed (non) human being to ever exist and no one can be as depressed as me". It's not true. I'm sure there's others that are out of their gobs right now. Feeling way worse than I could ever imagine.
I don't know. What I do know is I've reached a point of no return. I find it scary to say that. Someone a few weeks ago was talking about how there's a difference between what we say because of self hate and reality. Some of us hate ourselves and call ourselves disgusting. But even though it's hard to admit, we have a semblance of self love. Like "I'm horrific, but not *that* horrific". But then you get points where you really are horrific. And the lowest to which you degrade yourself is actually the truth.
I'm there. Really. I could have money. I could have friends. I could be wherever I wanted. I could rekindle lost relationships. I could find love. I could have tons of sex. But none of them would make me happy. Nothing will make me happy. Nothing will make me feel less alone. Even though I'm typing this garbage out and thinking of everyone on this site and what you guys said. Even if I reached out. I know that I'd still end up killing myself.
I guess that's a level or two above where I'm currently sitting. I'll wrap this up quickly because you probably have something worth doing. Something better than reading some miserable fucks memoir.
I don't see the point in anything. I don't see the point in trying. In being successful. In getting lovers. In getting fucking internet points. I don't see the point of living. Not only because we're gonna die. But because we mean nothing. I mean nothing. I'll pass away and a week from now no one here would remember me. Two weeks from then, my family won't remember me. And memories and belongings of me will fade away. Like I never existed. The same will happen with you. And your kids. And your husband. And your grandpa. And your cat. Make the most of it, right? But memories don't mean anything either. When you die, you will cease to be.
Finally, the last stage. Heh. I'm so for making this so long. And painful to listen to. Something I noticed.. Second hand embarrassment. You know, when, let's say for example, you're in a classroom and you make a funny noise. How no one reacts? They're embarrassed for you. Or how you mess up a presentation? Or mess up giving an order at a restaurant? Or misspelling a word on a post? How no one points it out? It's because they're embarrassed for you. Silently. Pity. The worst kind of embarrassment. So you're reading this and feeling the same way which is understandable. I'm sorry.
I don't care how I die. I don't care if it's peaceful. I don't care if it takes me an agonizing 5 minutes or an hour to die. I don't care if the methodology involves me being hanged by my deskined self. I think I would enjoy it. I'm not sadistic but that amount of physical pain can never, and will never amount to the pain I'm currently in. Someone here said something that struck a chord. Something to the effect of: "what comforts me is the feeling of bliss, of relief that death brings. I won't have to worry about anything anymore because it won't matter to me anymore". I think that's the last level. Where you're existing because you aren't dead yet. Meaning, you're still alive because you haven't loaded a magazine in yet. You haven't ordered your sn. You haven't finished tying a rope yet. Not because you have anything of value in your life.
I doubt anyone has read this. I wouldn't read this. It's way too long. But if you have.. Thank you. Next time you see "Un-", just skip it. I'm a waste of time.