As As someone who spend their days wishing they were dead, there is a certain kind of online posts that have been popping up lately that I find really patronising. I’m sure most have seen one at this point.
Whenever some celebrity or community member takes their life there will always be at least one post calling it to attention and giving you the usual lecture that “if anyone reading this is considering suicide, don’t do it” etc and then provides a list of phone numbers and websites. I know it is with good intentions but it always seems like it makes us out to be some sort of irresponsible, childish morons. I assure you. I know these exist. It doesn’t matter.
I hate myself. I hate the way I look, the way I walk, the way I talk the way I smell, the way I think, the way I interact with people.
I hate literally every thing about every aspect of myself. And the things I do not hate I hate even more because I think I should do better, that I am not good enough. Like my acting. I should do better, I should BE better. Or my writing. I HATE the way I write. I think it sucks.
I love acting. I love writing. But I hate it all the same because the harshest critic is not yourself as many believe, it’s your depressed self.
Sometimes depression comes suddenly. After a traumatic experience. Therapy can definitely help deal with that. Talk about what happened, build strategies etc etc and eventually your healthy again, no longer depressed. Other times it comes slowly and nestles into the core of your being. Depression becomes your new normal. That doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, but when my friends go to bed tonight they will think of how nice it was at the lake today and what they will do tomorrow, I will go to bed and wish that I don’t wake up.
And then I will wake up and having to go through an other day of this fucking shit all over again. Dealing with my fat overweight ass, unable to do anything long term because my mind is fucking broken, stuck in my room because the heat is killing me, stuck in my room because I have no where else to go, constantly being a burden on my parents, my friends who have to deal with my depressed ass and every one else for being such a socially inept bastard.
And I know these feelings are irrational, that my friends wouldn’t hang out with me unless they enjoyed my company, that my parents would kick me out if they couldn’t support me and that most strangers don’t care enough to remember that someone was a bit awkward. But it doesn’t matter because depression is irrational.
I’ve been feeling like this basically non-stop for the past six years. Every. Single. Day. I see no way out. Therapy doesn’t help and I refuse to let doctors drug me to the point of becoming a zombie.
I know that me dying won’t achieve anything other than take the few things I still enjoy away from me. Like reading, writing, acting or running DnD games for my friends. But I still wish I didn’t have to deal with the mess of a human being I am.
Sergej Tanja Brändén 