diary post

[monetpompo]

Can't sleep. I've gotten offers to talk to people to people on here but now I feel too annoying to reach out to anyone (lol). When I get really depressed I start receding from everyone but I also still feel like writing if it's not to specific people. I've been obsessing over my method. I've just been thinking about it a lot since I'm not self harming and it's the only thing that calms me down when I can't focus on anything long enough to want to do anything. Today I just listened to Youtube videos and cleaned my room. I'm isolating from everyone I know, but I don't plan on deleting my socials until later. I stil check the app even though I'm trying to keep to myself. When the summer starts, it's usually hard to get in touch with anyone since they don't not constantly on their phones the way I am, and that makes me want to isolate way more.

I just want to be liked by people. I seek validation a lot and that's why I can't make friends. I always think that I'm annoying and a burden and I always seem to say the same times over and over when something's bothering me. That's why I can't really tell anyone about my problems, since I know that me repeating myself would just annoy them. I feel like I've been kind of going crazy because of how much I've been thinking about my method. I want to think I'm different from everyone else, but I felt a weight in my chest thinking about having to go through with it. I know that I want to die. That's all I know. I know I feel like my life isn't going anywhere. I know that people in my life being happier or busier than me makes me feel sick to my stomach. That's a terrible thing to think and feel, but I've always thought that. I feel like a poison to the people around me or like I'm pretending to be human. I've been thinking about Ozamu Dazai's book "No Longer Human" after being on my own more often and I'm relating to the main character a lot. I think the title "No Longer Human" is exactly what being depressed and isolated from everyone else feels like. You stop being human. You stop having whatever makes the people around you human. You look at your body and hear your voice and even though those are human traits and you're meant to be born a human, you're fundamentally not a person. Do you get that? I've always liked that book. The writing style communicates the protagonist's feeling of worthlessness less in the self pitying way and more like he feels he's an inanimate object observing people around him.

I also like Albert Camus's book "The Stranger". I was reading it in front of a girl while she was working because I wanted to impress her, even though I already read it a week before. There's an innate purposelessness to the setting, story, and characters that I like a lot. Mersault, the protagonist, kills a man but he is judged for his lack of emotion and human feeling instead of the crime he committed. It's been a while since I've read both, but they made me feel more whole than other books. I don't know at what point my intrusive thoughts got so bad that I couldn't focus on a book anymore. I envy people that still have interests or motivation for their hobbies. They're more of a person than I am. A part of me can't stand being worse than everyone else. I'm just saying the same things over and over again.

 

[monetpompo]

I like my dreams the most. I don't like hearing my mother's voice outside my room. I don't like hearing doors open and close because it makes me nervous. I just want a way to run away from home. The summer paralyzes me completely. I don't want to hang out with anyone because I feel repulsed by everyone even though I'm really lonely. I think it's because they don't feel as bad as I do so I would have to act happy around them to not make them sad. For the past few days I've been resenting my best friend because he's happier than me until I tried to stop talking to him completely to save him trouble. It hurts be alone and company makes me feel good, but no one actually understands me at all. I'm worried that no matter how long you know someone, you can't understand them fully and they can't understand you. I can't tell people that laying around and undereating because I don't want to leave my room is soothing to me. I'm meant to say that reading and going on walks make me happy even though it's been ages since I've done either.

My mental health comes in cycles and that means that this is meant to be temporary, but that also means the happiest point I felt this year could land me right back to being depressed again. I have a lot of fantasies of people caring about me while I'm asleep and going on adventures. Everyone suddenly remembers me even though they don't think of me, people offer to hang out with me, I get scholarships, I travel out of the country. I want to go to Rome or France. I got jealous that one of my friends from high school got to see the Sistine Chapel. If one thing could save me, it would be having a lot of money. If I had money, I could go to university and run away from everyone. I could have a car and go on dates. People are human beings if they have money. My parents have always been worried about how much money they have and they always never seem to have enough. My mom yells on the phone at the people from the bank. They only stay on the phone because they're paid to listen to her. I want to close my eyes and sleep, but I'll just wake up again. Laying in bed is the most fun a nobody can have. If I were to get up, I'd probably eat boiled eggs. They're easy to eat when I feel sick.