Venting Jorge's Journal 3/28

[s00ngone]

First client in the morning. "Woke up" (got out of bed) after mom left to take sister to school. Fucked around in the kitchen, ate a little cereal, got in the shower right as my mom was getting back. Watched a Plants vs. Zombies Fusion video in there, lol. That's all I do anymore, is entertain myself with YouTube.

Even the concept of writing a daily journal like this is funny. It's not like I do anything different with myself day to day. No hobbies, no passions, nothing I spend my free time enjoying. Dissociation took that all from me. It all seems like a pointless affair. I haven't listened to music in probably a month. If I did, I'd probably find some way to make myself insecure about it, like I tend to do with most things.

11 to 1 with the kid. Stopped by the buffet nearby... heavily debated going in or not. It's not like I have lots of money to spare. If my parents knew I was blowing cash on eating out they'd wrangle me, and rightfully, I think. I even flipped a coin that told me to leave... but I went in anyway. It tasted like static and felt like shoveling concrete into a bottomless hole... a waste of time and an even bigger waste of money, like I knew it would be.

I get back home at 2. Spend the time up until my next session in my room browsing here... turns out client's mom cancels. I, of course, lie so I can spend 3 hours in the truck at the cemetery.

I am so fucking pathetic, lol. At least I had enough YouTube content to tide me through. Experienced at that. And to think that I ever believed that I'd build a future with my 26-year-old "boyfriend." Feels wrong to even call him that now.

I literally did not ever plan to have to live my life as an adult. I guess the reality that I'd have to put work in to survive must've passed me by at some point. Just didn't get the memo. It's strange - some of my spiritual delusion stuff was focused on fictional characters/reality shifting type stuff (fuck me fuck me fuck me) but even as I legitimately considered the possibility of existing in any kind of fictional reality, I didn't want it. I don't want to exist within a narrative. I don't want to be a person to whom things happen or who makes choices, who faces a conflict that they must resolve. Nah. I want to be a memory, and eventually forgotten, if I can help it. Or maybe not. Maybe I fear that too.

I can't imagine my entries to this will be all that unique - my days are pretty much identical, as they've always been. But I figure it'll be nice to have a dedicated place to dump my thoughts so I don't choke up the feed. Cheers.

 

[s00ngone]

Woke up late, around 9. Walked into my sister's room, mom wakes up too. While my mom showers, my sister and I heat up leftover sausages and beans for breakfast. I'm pretending. I'm an actor. Every moment is deception. I wouldn't know how to stop the act if I tried. I can't take off the armor anymore. I've eclipsed my humanity.

We spend some time out in the backyard with her little Chihuahua, Hashi. He's sweet, and they're inseparable. While out at the cemetery yesterday I saw her post an Instagram note saying "I love my little dog." If (when) I go I know he'll help her cope. Being outside feels strange, wrong. The sun comes down on me as if through a block of ice. I look at her, at him, and I'm taken back to Shayan being in the same yard with me only two months ago.

I shower, but first I stall. It's all I can do. The weekend is just my excuse to do more nothing. I can't fully articulate the gulf between me and Shayan, his normalcy and my distortion of reality. He was just a guy, with friends who were just people. He was stable, well-adjusted, with a job and a future and an inherent will to live, a desire for enjoyment, a love of the world and of fun for fun's sake. It wouldn't have crushed him to simply know that suffering is possible. He wasn't a dissociated nihilist without the drive or the capacity for facing life's challenges. He attended UCSB and kept up with the assignments, made friends, did what normal people do.

Will continue this later, talking to my sister right now.

 

[SomewhatLoved]

You seem like a good, considerate guy from reading this. Your sister is lucky to have you.

Just out of curiosity, what country are you in?

 

[s00ngone]

You seem like a good, considerate guy from reading this. Your sister is lucky to have you.

Just out of curiosity, what country are you in?

The U.S. California, specifically. Thank you for saying that. I always put her before me, throughout all the years I was suffering in high school and into adulthood. Whenever I thought about moving out (or ctb-ing, though my resolve and access to methods was much less then) she was what kept me here, feeling like she needed me. Turns out I just wasn't ever independent enough to make that leap with or without her, but I guess the intention stands.

 

[s00ngone]

This is my nightmare.

It's so much worse than I even realized. I looked back through my texts with Shayan and the last few exchanges I had with my therapist and I was already deeply out of touch with reality by the time I met him. Pretty much our entire relationship was predicated on delusions. I look back on some (or all) of the things I said and I can't believe my eyes. It's not just cringe - it's downright unreal. I can't fathom that I created this narrative in which I was contacting imaginary entities and in touch with some kinds of god-beings and I just bought into it for months.

It was never about the relationship. God, no. That was just window dressing for the real problem. The lies. The self-deception. The fact that I haven't been clear or clean about anything, literally anything in my life for so long now that I couldn't possibly set the story straight now. Fuck. Fucking hell.

I went out to a swap meet with my family yesterday, impromptu. They invited me and I went, and it was exhausting not from the walking or the being out but the being around people, seeing others, knowing that every one of them has a life, that they're surviving just like my parents, my sister, like I'm supposed to be. I owe my mom 260. That's how much I have in my account right now. I've lied about what day I get paid - I owe my dad more and I'm expected to put something down today. What the fuck have I done to my life? What have I accomplished? How did it get this bad?

I can't speak to anyone else, but my suicide is without a doubt selfish. To leave my family with the incomprehensible suffering of losing their son/brother to escape the hell I created for myself? I feel like I'm choking. But I also cannot, truly cannot, picture myself living. I can't. I've been resigned to suicide for months now. I can't clear my name now. It's just absurd, unreal, incomprehensible how much I've lied to myself and everyone for so long now. I'm ashamed. I'm incredulous. To have so brazenly lied in the face of everyone, everyone, everyone... I don't know. I don't think I was ever good, or if I was, I lost myself somewhere, or if I didn't I never knew what the concept of goodness was. Maybe I never prepared to be an adult.

I truly hate that I'm on this forum. I truly hate that I've hit a wall like this. But I sit in the bank parking lot contemplating how I'm going to make it out of this one, and I wait. I wait for my SN to arrive. I'm in shambles.

 

[s00ngone]

I just don't feel anything anymore, at all. I'm empty. If anything's going to lead to me actually catching the bus, it's that. The emptiness.

To curse my family to an entire life without me. My sister... to turn 17 without her brother around. For me to never attend her graduation or meet her kids or see her become a chef or any of her life milestones. To leave a permanent, gaping wound in my mother's chest that will never fill. My grandma in Mexico. My grandma in New Mexico. My extended family, all blindsided, to never see me again except at a wake or at my funeral.

It's incomprehensible. I can't fathom it. It doesn't move me somehow, under the numbness, under the construction, the lies, the self-delusion, self-deception, the disconnect from everything that once made me a person, if a person I ever was. Fuck.

I think about my aunts and cousins hearing me talk like this. Knowing where my mind has been for so long now. It's hell no matter how I spin it. I'm indulgent and gluttonous and a piece of shit, admittedly. If I die I spin a carousel of pain. I'm so fucked.

 

[s00ngone]

Fuck fuck fuck. A million times, fuck. I wish I had been different. I wish I had "turned out" like everybody else. I don't know when it started but I can predict how it's going to end and no matter what, it's not going to be pretty.

Was it when I stayed behind and had to grow up on my own while my parents and sister were in Mexico? Did it start when I first threatened suicide then? What was going through my little 11 or 12 year old head? I wish I could remember. I wish I could tell him things changed for the better but honestly, I'm a bold-faced, practically pathological liar at this point. I've dug myself a series of fine holes such that I don't even know what the fuck is real anymore, nor would I be able to explain if anyone asked.

And it's sad. It's really sad, even if the sadness doesn't reach me in any way I wish it could. To think of myself as the little kid who first opened Super Mario Galaxy at my tía's for Christmas all those years ago, or the one who fell in love with My Neighbor Totoro. To feel so powerless now in the face of the problems I carved myself out in this world.

Solipsism and agoraphobia will have been the death of me. I can't even claim that with any real authority, though - I've clearly deluded myself into diagnoses that couldn't be further from the truth. My life is some kind of terrible, warped echo of the chiming bell that tolls for thee.

I was never honest. Not once. I lied about being in college, about it being too much for me. I lied about getting fired from my first job. I just lied, again and again and again, and created a whirlpool for myself that would be hard enough for a person with half a will to live to unmake. For me? Dissociated, unspooled, unwilling to try anymore?

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm only 22. I can't give my parents a funeral to attend. My sister. But I dont feel like I have any other choice. Not now. Not anymore. Not ever.

 

[never_take_my_heart]

I literally did not ever plan to have to live my life as an adult. I guess the reality that I'd have to put work in to survive must've passed me by at some point. Just didn't get the memo. It's strange - some of my spiritual delusion stuff was focused on fictional characters

This struck a cord, damn. :(

I feel you, deeply.
In general, I've read each entry of yours, and I wish I had something way more soothing or meaningful to say, yet all I can offer is that I read, and I feel.
If souls exist, mine and yours must be in a same continuum, because your entries touched parts of my soul I thought have long died.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts there for this fellow soul to find. I truly wish you tranquility and ease. Now, if I only I knew a way towards that... Then again, I suppose if there was THE way, we wouldn't be here, heh... Anyways, I'm rambling, haha.

 

[s00ngone]

This struck a cord, damn. :(

I feel you, deeply.
In general, I've read each entry of yours, and I wish I had something way more soothing or meaningful to say, yet all I can offer is that I read, and I feel.
If souls exist, mine and yours must be in a same continuum, because your entries touched parts of my soul I thought have long died.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts there for this fellow soul to find. I truly wish you tranquility and ease. Now, if I only I knew a way towards that... Then again, I suppose if there was THE way, we wouldn't be here, heh... Anyways, I'm rambling, haha.

This actually touched somewhere deep in me. I'm grateful you'd say that about our souls, objectively real or not.

It's the nature of being here, right? Every time I log on my head spins around the awful reality that, for the truly committed among us, all roads lead to one thing. It's like trying to crane your neck around a corner, snapping sounds and all, and being met with more and more wall till you realize wall is all there is until you turn the corner.

Thank you. I both love and hate our shared Shinji pfps. I'm sorry we both relate to him enough to take him on as a symbol of suffering, but I'm also grateful to have a single media portrayal of what my internal suffering has felt like my entire life.

When it gets unbearably bad (in that awful, detached way that's as far as my emotions can go anymore) I get terrible vertigo. Standing at a ledge I know I'm seriously considering jumping from. I feel it now. So thank you for sharing the pain, truly.

 

[s00ngone]

Orchestrating an elaborate lie to cover my irresponsibility. I'm actually so fucked in the head. I'm lucky I've had banking issues in the past or my mom wouldn't believe that "someone in Ukraine" had tried to hack my account to make a purchase (retroactively trying to cover my ass if she finds the SN before I do when it arrives).

I literally just don't have the funds to pay my parents the money I owe them until the 7th. And there's no way to walk it back now. Hahaha... I am unbelievable.

Can't even ctb on the timeline I anticipated because my sister will be staying when my parents go to Mexico. I'll be taking her to a school dance on the 26th. It continues to grow more incomprehensible.

 

[s00ngone]

It's sinking in. Finally, for real, it's starting to sink in, the choice that I'm contemplating. It's been """""easy""""" enough to think about some abstract end to my existence when it involves wanton spending and dodging the well-deserved consequences of my actions. It's not so easy when I realize that... if I go through with ctb, that's it. That's the end. Which must sound really rich, but it's that finality that I've been trying to soothe by projecting it into some eventual future.

I think about dying in my sleep every night, and still, somehow, the thought saddens me and fills me with fear. To think that I could just slip away... and never see my family again, leave behind such immense and uncompromising pain, to completely cease to perceive or sense at all... and not know what that nothingness will be like.

It's a nightmare that I just keep circling. There's existence and, presumably, non-existence. That's it. Those are the two choices. I loathe this, but the alternative is terrifying and guilty and unbearable. I am an awful person with a trail of failures and an inability to just participate and cooperate with my own life. I can't see myself doing this, living, let alone once my parents' support fades and I have to figure my own shit out.

So do I bow out while I have the choice? It fucks me up. I wish I would wake up and find out my life was all some joke. Maybe I'd laugh. Maybe I'd laugh.

 

[s00ngone]

And I continue to circle the drain. I used to pride myself on having the right words for everything, but even then everything I said felt like an exhausting, elaborate joke. I used to struggle immensely with just-right OCD, to the point where it felt like I was running every potential thought through some internal diagnostic. I chose not to say anything at all more often than not.

Now? Now I feel that same pressure but with no payoff. It's death, all day, without fail. All I can think about. The universal drone underpinning my pathetic days of barely being competent at my job and secretly being a glutton. I wish I could snap and form my thoughts into words - I have a lot to say, just not much energy anymore to wrap everything up in a neat little bow.

I think a lot about Shayan, the guy I was "dating" (what a loaded term for that short-lived fantasy). About Raphael, the guy before him. About who I've been all my life, and who I haven't. How unreal it is that this is the same life as when I was 11, or 16. As when I was 8. That the Earth is the same Earth, that the people are the same people (minus the ones who've come and gone), and the only difference has been the passage of time. This does not do the experience justice. Not even a little. But it's all I can do to summarize the day-in-day-out absurdity of being an actor in my own life. To think daily, without fail, of my upcoming death with all the detachment I can muster.

Watching a lot of One Piece with my sister. It's all I can do. More on all this soon, want to narrow down the thoughts, just don't have it in me right now. Best to anyone reading this.

 

[s00ngone]

I'm practically vibrating with self-hatred. Loathing doesn't even begin to convey the feeling. There's not a word in the English language for how much I despise myself. All I can think about is sex. All I can do is lie and gorge myself like a bottomless pit. I act as if through a haze, as if in somebody else's life. I wander blind. All day, the word "disgusting." echoes in my mind, nonstop.

Despicable.

And the saddest part, in my acid vat of self-pity, is that it was never going to be any other way. Not 11 years ago when I was at the scholarship home. Not in high school, when I interrupted my BPD best friend's suicide attempt and barely scraped by. Not when I was dissociated out of my mind watching Elden Ring videos on my parents' couch, unable to do anything else while wrapped up in the absurdity of fiction itself. Not when the dysphoria/trans OCD hit. Not after that fucking cult brainwashing. Not now. Not now or ever.

I look ahead and I know I'm going to kill myself. There has not been a doubt in my mind, not counting the mounting doom of fear and guilt so dull in the back somewhere. I lurch forward like an automaton and I despise myself so, so fucking much for simply being unable to be in any capacity. Existing is enough to cause me immense pain, and nothing I can dream of could stop it except to die. To die. So die I will, soon, and hopefully leave room for someone better suited to make a life in this world.

I hate myself, yet so passively. I'm scum, but hurting scum, pained scum, human scum. And that's the worst part. That I try to grasp at timelines where maybe, maybe, I wasn't so inconsolable and incorrigible, and maybe I ended up in a happy relationship with Shayan or Raphael, or maybe I could watch my sister grow up and be a role model or at the very least a presence she could be proud of, or maybe I didn't trip and fall on my fucking face at the prospect that I exist, in a body, here.

Fuck's sake. I've all but gone insane.

 

[s00ngone]

I think I might actually be some kind of sociopath. I feel like a human impersonator puppeting a vaguely me-shaped sack of meat. It doesn't even feel real to say this, to have such strong words to say about myself, and yet... I'm the bottom of the barrel.

Dissociated to the extreme. Only a shadow of whatever I might once have been. At the whim of my momentary impulses and desires, no regard. No regard.

It's like Shayan didn't exist. But he did. And I loved him, or claimed to. And now it's all about the sex. Wasn't it always, really? Wasn't that what it boiled down to, in my perpetually-unready-to-face-the-reality-of-life facade? I'm on Grindr just to get my rocks off, drenched in shame. I remember when I first truly lost it months ago and researched hydrogen sulfide as a method, then promptly decided it was both too unreliable and too dangerous to others to even consider attempting.

What a joke. What a stupid, sorry joke I ever was. Intrusive thoughts about dick sizes and sexual fantasies in between thoughts of my upcoming death. Something is actually, patently wrong with me, fundamentally, in an incurable way. I've known it my entire life. I either have something or don't have something that distinguishes me from others, from the people who can lead normal lives. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry and the words sound so hollow to me now. I'm sorry. When I die, I hope I take the shame with me.