SpacingOut
Member
- Mar 2, 2026
- 7
I'm so tired. I've come to a point in my life where no matter what I surround myself with, what I do and who I talk to, I always feel like there isn't any point in what I do. I've been this way for probably 6 years now and I can't decide whether to be angry or hurt when I see other people get help and perfect support systems, while I had to claw to try to get into therapy and then subsequently was called crazy and pulled out of it by my family.
I have no friends I can talk about this with either, even if I did, I'd get the response of "same" or laughter as always. I can't do this anymore. One of the only times I felt like someone actually cared, it was a damn stranger. I know I'm a horrible person and I probably deserve to suffer like this after everything I've done and all the trouble I've put other people through, but I'd rather just ctb than deal with this for much longer. Unfortunately, I have people to watch over and responsibilities like pets, so I can't do anything for now.
I keep being told that people love me, but they're never there when it matters. Maybe I'm just ungrateful, but it feels like they only pretend to care when I'm slightly better. I feel as though I'm rotting from the inside out and I can't blame anyone for not wanting to deal with it or be around it. At the same time, I feel like an asshole when I hear friends of mine making plans for their future and I can't do anything but say that I'll be far away. Obviously, they think I mean that in a distance sense, but I truly can't imagine living like this past my twenties. I've never had anyone to love me. I made a plan once that if that were to stay the case, I would go out with/marry the first person who said they loved me, no matter whether I liked them or not. I realize now, it would be too cruel.
I know I'd probably be called a maniac by people around me if I told them how I felt, that part of me wants to ctb, just to hurt them, because they never thought any of my pain was real, or enough. It's my fault I trust anyone at all anymore, I know, but why does it feel like whenever I trust anyone enough to open up, I end up embarrassing myself and pushing them away? I'm so stuck in my own head all the time. The only release I have for any of this shit is writing, but a piece of me will forever beg me to burn every page and delete every document. I never wanted to leave an imprint on the world. I never wanted to exist. At the start, death wasn't really something I wished for, but I always prayed, when I was younger, that one day I'd cease to exist and no one would ever have to suffer because of me again. I'm a selfish friend, a disappointment of a son and a horrible brother. The only living, breathing thing that ever needed me was my dog, but she's old and sick now, so I'm losing any reason to keep functioning.
My every day is filled with this profound sense of anhedonia and It gets worse every day.
I have no friends I can talk about this with either, even if I did, I'd get the response of "same" or laughter as always. I can't do this anymore. One of the only times I felt like someone actually cared, it was a damn stranger. I know I'm a horrible person and I probably deserve to suffer like this after everything I've done and all the trouble I've put other people through, but I'd rather just ctb than deal with this for much longer. Unfortunately, I have people to watch over and responsibilities like pets, so I can't do anything for now.
I keep being told that people love me, but they're never there when it matters. Maybe I'm just ungrateful, but it feels like they only pretend to care when I'm slightly better. I feel as though I'm rotting from the inside out and I can't blame anyone for not wanting to deal with it or be around it. At the same time, I feel like an asshole when I hear friends of mine making plans for their future and I can't do anything but say that I'll be far away. Obviously, they think I mean that in a distance sense, but I truly can't imagine living like this past my twenties. I've never had anyone to love me. I made a plan once that if that were to stay the case, I would go out with/marry the first person who said they loved me, no matter whether I liked them or not. I realize now, it would be too cruel.
I know I'd probably be called a maniac by people around me if I told them how I felt, that part of me wants to ctb, just to hurt them, because they never thought any of my pain was real, or enough. It's my fault I trust anyone at all anymore, I know, but why does it feel like whenever I trust anyone enough to open up, I end up embarrassing myself and pushing them away? I'm so stuck in my own head all the time. The only release I have for any of this shit is writing, but a piece of me will forever beg me to burn every page and delete every document. I never wanted to leave an imprint on the world. I never wanted to exist. At the start, death wasn't really something I wished for, but I always prayed, when I was younger, that one day I'd cease to exist and no one would ever have to suffer because of me again. I'm a selfish friend, a disappointment of a son and a horrible brother. The only living, breathing thing that ever needed me was my dog, but she's old and sick now, so I'm losing any reason to keep functioning.
My every day is filled with this profound sense of anhedonia and It gets worse every day.
