LonelyIsTheMuse
Member
- Jun 26, 2026
- 5
All these years of being utterly miserable even when pretending to be functional and all the suicide attempts and all the therapy and the bullshit, I don't think I ever truly wanted to die, but I did want to wake up somewhere else, in another body, in another life.
Sometimes I think I'm treating death as some sort of reset button, as if there is any guarantee that I'll reincarnate or anything. For all I know I'll just end up in the vast nothingness.
The older I get, the more I realise I'm not missing something very complex to explain. I realise I'm missing a real family. A real loving family, with which you sit at dinner time and talk about your day, about all the happy parts and about all the bad parts, equally.
I mourn the secure person I would've been if I had some amount of that consistently. I got morsels of normality here and there but not enough to build me up in a confident person nor enough to allow me a secure place to go.
There is no home for me, just an empty apartment where I feel trapped with my own thoughts every day.
My mother has been living with her boyfriend ever since I was 16 or so and my grandma is away in another city, though I am in the odd position where I'm not even certain I'd like them around.
My mother is a very fickle and irritable person, one that finds anything and everything to blame me for, she flip-flops between insults and compliments and acting with love or almost contempt. I've had to endure her changeable and angry nature since I was a child, with public outbursts that never failed to make me feel humiliated.
Today I once again felt the need to share with a parent, with someone I can trust.
But instead I'm here because while my mother and I are very similar in some ways (for I am her child, of course) more often than not sharing with her is less than productive. She either won't believe me or she will project her own issues onto my situation or she will give me biased advice or she will say that I am the problem. Very rarely do I have conversations with her where I actually feel seen and understood. In this case, I've been having some thoughts about my relationship that I didn't want to bother friends with but I know where that's gonna end with her. She's unhappy with her own relationship and she often likes to try to pit me against my own partner if she can, instead of offering some kind of unbiased advice, regardless of what exactly the guy is doing.
As for my grandmother, she is quite old and she has been suffering with delusions or maybe even schizophrenia for many years now, always up and talking about how we are being followed by the mafia, how the mafia are living in the apartment above us, how she thinks people are entering our apartment and moving around things. Besides this she doesn't trust anyone and doesn't lead any kind of social life outside of us and she keeps telling me I don't need friends or a partner. Sooo, you can guess where that talk will go.
I crave normality so bad, I don't think I'd even be this desperate in my friendships and relationships if I just had someone normal to come home to, someone that would actually listen instead of go on and on and on about their own day or that would make fun of me tirelessly or someone that doesn't even have the capacity to have normal talks a lot of the time.
I envy my friends who can go home to a normal partner or a normal family or anyone at home whom they can share with, laugh with, cry with. People who actively show them love, attention and that they are proud of them.
Of course I wouldn't wish evil upon these friends just because they have what I don't, it just hurts a little bit every time I see it.
Sometimes I think I'm treating death as some sort of reset button, as if there is any guarantee that I'll reincarnate or anything. For all I know I'll just end up in the vast nothingness.
The older I get, the more I realise I'm not missing something very complex to explain. I realise I'm missing a real family. A real loving family, with which you sit at dinner time and talk about your day, about all the happy parts and about all the bad parts, equally.
I mourn the secure person I would've been if I had some amount of that consistently. I got morsels of normality here and there but not enough to build me up in a confident person nor enough to allow me a secure place to go.
There is no home for me, just an empty apartment where I feel trapped with my own thoughts every day.
My mother has been living with her boyfriend ever since I was 16 or so and my grandma is away in another city, though I am in the odd position where I'm not even certain I'd like them around.
My mother is a very fickle and irritable person, one that finds anything and everything to blame me for, she flip-flops between insults and compliments and acting with love or almost contempt. I've had to endure her changeable and angry nature since I was a child, with public outbursts that never failed to make me feel humiliated.
Today I once again felt the need to share with a parent, with someone I can trust.
But instead I'm here because while my mother and I are very similar in some ways (for I am her child, of course) more often than not sharing with her is less than productive. She either won't believe me or she will project her own issues onto my situation or she will give me biased advice or she will say that I am the problem. Very rarely do I have conversations with her where I actually feel seen and understood. In this case, I've been having some thoughts about my relationship that I didn't want to bother friends with but I know where that's gonna end with her. She's unhappy with her own relationship and she often likes to try to pit me against my own partner if she can, instead of offering some kind of unbiased advice, regardless of what exactly the guy is doing.
As for my grandmother, she is quite old and she has been suffering with delusions or maybe even schizophrenia for many years now, always up and talking about how we are being followed by the mafia, how the mafia are living in the apartment above us, how she thinks people are entering our apartment and moving around things. Besides this she doesn't trust anyone and doesn't lead any kind of social life outside of us and she keeps telling me I don't need friends or a partner. Sooo, you can guess where that talk will go.
I crave normality so bad, I don't think I'd even be this desperate in my friendships and relationships if I just had someone normal to come home to, someone that would actually listen instead of go on and on and on about their own day or that would make fun of me tirelessly or someone that doesn't even have the capacity to have normal talks a lot of the time.
I envy my friends who can go home to a normal partner or a normal family or anyone at home whom they can share with, laugh with, cry with. People who actively show them love, attention and that they are proud of them.
Of course I wouldn't wish evil upon these friends just because they have what I don't, it just hurts a little bit every time I see it.
