Sakura.
NienawidzÄ™ siebie.
- May 1, 2024
- 237
As I begin writing these words, it's only 1:15 PM. Now it's only 2:00 PM. Only. I specifically wanted to wake up as late as possible today, but unfortunately, I woke up at 8:45 AM. So early. It's been over five hours, during which, unfortunately, I was only conscious in bed, and unfortunately, I still have a dozen more hours ahead of me.
Yesterday, I didn't utter a single word. Today is no different, and I probably won't utter another word for the rest of the day. I remember reading a short story in 2020, a well-known author in my country, Jerzy Pilch, titled "My First Suicide." The author didn't declare it, but the reader had the strong impression while reading it (and his other works) that they were semi-biographical, or even autobiographical. The subject of this story, on the day of his intended attempt, also didn't utter a single word. What I remember most from this story is that he said that after such a day without saying a single word, "the brain is boiling, it is shredded into pieces, the thoughts are then like a flock of flies."
I remember this because… well, for me, a day without saying a single word is a daily occurrence. It's already June, and I haven't even spoken to anyone this year. When I'm in my university city, all the words I've said in a single day can be counted on one hand. "Hi" to my roommate upon waking up, "Bye" upon leaving the room, and "Hi" upon returning. So sometimes I only say one word all day. In my family home, I also say hi to my dad and brother upon waking up, but otherwise, for the rest of the day, there's basically no talking between us.
After waking up, I didn't even get out of bed for the next few hours; I just lay there, trying to fall asleep. But it's impossible. It's impossible to fall asleep, and lying there doing nothing is very difficult. But…
…the problem is, this is what my life will be like for the rest of my life. First, I'll be going through a terrible ordeal at work, which for reasons beyond the merits will be downright impossible and psychologically terrible, because I won't be able to work with other people, because I'm autistic and repulsive-looking, and all of this will prevent me from functioning normally at work—all for nothing, because in a situation as terrible as mine, I don't even have anything to spend my money on—and then after returning from work, I'll just lie in bed for the rest of the time, doing nothing, because I won't be able to do anything. Just waiting for another terrible day at work. And so on, for the rest of my life.
I truly can't do anything. Everything is impossible for me because of my autism and my repulsive appearance. No one even sees me as a human being. To everyone, I'm just some autistic monster. No one wants to be my friend, no one wants to talk to me, no one wants to do anything with me. And when I try to do these things myself, try to start conversations or friendships with others, it's not even remotely possible because no one wants to have anything to do with me. No interaction with other people works. Nothing can be done.
I recently read in an article about the SN that one person said that "all these suicides were easy to prevent" because "all it would have taken was to block access to the means." Today I read that the parent of a suicidal son "was calm about him" because... "my son wanted to commit suicide only by painless methods, and there are no such methods," so it's solely the existence of the SN sources that caused his son to commit suicide.
And as I understand it, my suicide is also incredibly easy to prevent. All they need to do is take away my access to SN, and if necessary, lock me up in a psych ward, and that's it. And thanks to that, I can continue to suffer terribly for the next 50 or 60 years or even more, having absolutely nothing positive in my life and being rejected by all those people who care so much about my life.
Whose fault would it be that I committed suicide? Would it really be my fault? Or that you can buy a SN in my country? Or maybe it's that out of 160 people in my year, none treated me as a person. No one ever wrote to me for five years, no one ever wanted to be my friend, no one ever wanted to talk to me. And when I tried to do the same, I was met with rejection.
Despite my mental well-being, I could do anything in real life; despite my mental state, I really want to, but I can't do anything because of my situation. And because of my mental well-being, I can't do the only three things in my life I could—read visual novels, read books, light novels, manga, and watch anime movies and series. It's really no wonder that, in my situation, I can't feel like doing these things or derive pleasure from them. At the same time, this problem has been with me from the very beginning of my life, at least since I was 11, or probably even earlier.
There's not a single person in the real world I can talk to, be friends with, or write to. And that's never going to change, because it can't be changed, because it's always been this way, and now, with the end of college and the end of my youth, it's only going to get worse from here. At the same time, I'm completely unable to socialize or make friends even online. I'm too autistic to be able to write to anyone online. My natural communication style, due to my autism, is such long, thoughtful, and comprehensive sentences and messages, I can't talk to anyone because everyone is incompatible with me in this regard. In a few months, I'll be 25, and in my entire life, I've only met three people online with whom I could even talk, despite my extreme dedication to finding friends online. This intense focus on finding friends online was utterly debilitating, but now it's even worse. I simply have absolutely no one to befriend, no one to even try to write to, and when, after several months of waiting, someone does appear, of course, they prove incompatible with me, and I remain completely alone.
At this point, I'm just a hostage to my family. It's sad, but I really can't wait for this obstacle to pass and for me to finally commit suicide. Everything has been decided, everything has been thought out. I've been 100% committed to this for a long time. I always have been, and from the very beginning, my situation was horrible, but now it's an even more responsible and well-considered decision (not that my earlier intentions to end my life weren't). I simply can't do it yet. But now I'm certain, in a way, that when my father and grandmother die, I will actually choose to do it. It's the last and only positive thing that could possibly happen in my life.
Yesterday, I didn't utter a single word. Today is no different, and I probably won't utter another word for the rest of the day. I remember reading a short story in 2020, a well-known author in my country, Jerzy Pilch, titled "My First Suicide." The author didn't declare it, but the reader had the strong impression while reading it (and his other works) that they were semi-biographical, or even autobiographical. The subject of this story, on the day of his intended attempt, also didn't utter a single word. What I remember most from this story is that he said that after such a day without saying a single word, "the brain is boiling, it is shredded into pieces, the thoughts are then like a flock of flies."
I remember this because… well, for me, a day without saying a single word is a daily occurrence. It's already June, and I haven't even spoken to anyone this year. When I'm in my university city, all the words I've said in a single day can be counted on one hand. "Hi" to my roommate upon waking up, "Bye" upon leaving the room, and "Hi" upon returning. So sometimes I only say one word all day. In my family home, I also say hi to my dad and brother upon waking up, but otherwise, for the rest of the day, there's basically no talking between us.
After waking up, I didn't even get out of bed for the next few hours; I just lay there, trying to fall asleep. But it's impossible. It's impossible to fall asleep, and lying there doing nothing is very difficult. But…
…the problem is, this is what my life will be like for the rest of my life. First, I'll be going through a terrible ordeal at work, which for reasons beyond the merits will be downright impossible and psychologically terrible, because I won't be able to work with other people, because I'm autistic and repulsive-looking, and all of this will prevent me from functioning normally at work—all for nothing, because in a situation as terrible as mine, I don't even have anything to spend my money on—and then after returning from work, I'll just lie in bed for the rest of the time, doing nothing, because I won't be able to do anything. Just waiting for another terrible day at work. And so on, for the rest of my life.
I truly can't do anything. Everything is impossible for me because of my autism and my repulsive appearance. No one even sees me as a human being. To everyone, I'm just some autistic monster. No one wants to be my friend, no one wants to talk to me, no one wants to do anything with me. And when I try to do these things myself, try to start conversations or friendships with others, it's not even remotely possible because no one wants to have anything to do with me. No interaction with other people works. Nothing can be done.
I recently read in an article about the SN that one person said that "all these suicides were easy to prevent" because "all it would have taken was to block access to the means." Today I read that the parent of a suicidal son "was calm about him" because... "my son wanted to commit suicide only by painless methods, and there are no such methods," so it's solely the existence of the SN sources that caused his son to commit suicide.
And as I understand it, my suicide is also incredibly easy to prevent. All they need to do is take away my access to SN, and if necessary, lock me up in a psych ward, and that's it. And thanks to that, I can continue to suffer terribly for the next 50 or 60 years or even more, having absolutely nothing positive in my life and being rejected by all those people who care so much about my life.
Whose fault would it be that I committed suicide? Would it really be my fault? Or that you can buy a SN in my country? Or maybe it's that out of 160 people in my year, none treated me as a person. No one ever wrote to me for five years, no one ever wanted to be my friend, no one ever wanted to talk to me. And when I tried to do the same, I was met with rejection.
Despite my mental well-being, I could do anything in real life; despite my mental state, I really want to, but I can't do anything because of my situation. And because of my mental well-being, I can't do the only three things in my life I could—read visual novels, read books, light novels, manga, and watch anime movies and series. It's really no wonder that, in my situation, I can't feel like doing these things or derive pleasure from them. At the same time, this problem has been with me from the very beginning of my life, at least since I was 11, or probably even earlier.
There's not a single person in the real world I can talk to, be friends with, or write to. And that's never going to change, because it can't be changed, because it's always been this way, and now, with the end of college and the end of my youth, it's only going to get worse from here. At the same time, I'm completely unable to socialize or make friends even online. I'm too autistic to be able to write to anyone online. My natural communication style, due to my autism, is such long, thoughtful, and comprehensive sentences and messages, I can't talk to anyone because everyone is incompatible with me in this regard. In a few months, I'll be 25, and in my entire life, I've only met three people online with whom I could even talk, despite my extreme dedication to finding friends online. This intense focus on finding friends online was utterly debilitating, but now it's even worse. I simply have absolutely no one to befriend, no one to even try to write to, and when, after several months of waiting, someone does appear, of course, they prove incompatible with me, and I remain completely alone.
At this point, I'm just a hostage to my family. It's sad, but I really can't wait for this obstacle to pass and for me to finally commit suicide. Everything has been decided, everything has been thought out. I've been 100% committed to this for a long time. I always have been, and from the very beginning, my situation was horrible, but now it's an even more responsible and well-considered decision (not that my earlier intentions to end my life weren't). I simply can't do it yet. But now I'm certain, in a way, that when my father and grandmother die, I will actually choose to do it. It's the last and only positive thing that could possibly happen in my life.
