I'll probably look like a complete idiot and melodramatic for this but I pretty much need to get this off my chest. I'm not looking for advice or anything from anyone, I'm just sick of keeping things to myself. Basically, I'm tired. There comes a point, now and then, when you can't keep being tough all the time and things get on top of you. I can't just 'get over it' or put a nice smile on my face and walk it off. I've had depression for around 20 years now, which I've probably mentioned before, but I want to be more specific. Even though I have people in my life I'm still absolutely consumed with loneliness. My mood is so completely awful that it's like being a rat in a Skinner box, prodded with pain all the time, so I'm beginning to absolutely hate everything. I'm getting random jolts of inappropriate aggression towards the most mundane, inconsequential shit and it's really not a nice feeling. Communicating with people online has no intimacy, no real substance to it for me, so I hate that shit too. Most days I really do just want to die and it's only my rationality and experience as someone having these feelings for a long time that's prevented me from going through with suicide. I don't honestly see myself committing suicide but that doesn't mean that I don't think about it near enough every day.
Whatever baggage I've been carrying around with me over the years and the people I've cared about who've died, there's one thing in particular which has been fucking with me since last year. It's probably going to sound fucking stupid or something and on it's own I wouldn't be this badly affected by it, but my god I can't put into words how much this hurts. I had my guinea pig put to sleep last year after he'd been in a lot of pain and wasn't going to recover. I was assured this was the right thing to do given his suffering and I'm sure on some level it was. But I sat up night after night with him, trying to nurse him back to health and I loved this little fucking thing so much. He felt like a little child to me and it was my job to love him and care for him and one day I signed a fucking piece of paper giving someone permission to end his life. The vet told me he'd have to inject lethal poison directly into his heart and I wish to god, to christ, he'd never told me that. My guinea pig came up to me on the vets table and put his front paws on my stomach, as if he was either seeking my protection or saying goodbye. My understanding of animals tells me he couldn't have been thinking about something so deep but I don't fucking know what happened or why. I just saw him carried away and moments later he was lying there dead in front of me, the white of his little eyes showing and my heart broke in two. I killed someone I loved so much and I can't forgive myself. I've cried every night since the day he died, in September last year.
When you're on the outside looking in at someone describing the loss of a pet it's easy to think "it's just an animal, jesus". I've thought the same thing before, in the past. You do form a loving bond with your pets but it's part of life to see them go and sometimes you have to help them along when they're suffering (I've had many pets over the years and I've been sad when they've died, but not like this). I've seen some shit in my life and I've had a lot of fucking shit happen over the years; maybe this is just the proverbial icing on the cake, a loss on top of losses that's marked the point of breaking for me. I am so tired of waking up every day and thinking about the inevitability of death, the inevitability of everything ever said and done just disintegrating and drifting off somewhere in space. Occasionally I find a certain sort of beauty and spiritual peace with the idea of entropy, the idea we're all made of stars. But to someone like me, with depression for so long, it all just looks like shit. Occasionally I curse my parents for having created me, that they would knowingly produce another life, a life destined to end. Thoughts like this and darker, endless horrific scenarios that play in my head have plagued and tormented me for years. I think the worst part, though, is that nagging, niggling feeling that maybe I'm just a weak person, that this is all melodramatic rubbish with me, mr snivel, at the center of it. The worse you feel the more alienated from others you become, the more they dislike you and the more you hate yourself; it's a self-perpetuating spiral of shit.
If there ever was a platitude that were true it's "Shit Happens.". It doesn't necessarily get better and sometimes there's no green pastures ahead or special inspiring moment that will set you free. Sometimes shit just happens and you're fucked. The only thing you can do is carry on. Carry on I will. But, fuck me, it aint half hard sometimes.
Thanks for reading, just don't try to give me advice or soppy hugs etc, I really hate it.
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10 years, 9 months ago
08 Jul 2013 02:18 CEST
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