Sorry, this is not a cheerful read.
Posted on: February 21, 2016
I wish I was dead.
I can’t even begin to find the words to express how much I wish I’d never been born.
I know I’ve talked about moving out of my parents’ house before, talked about it like it’s a real and possible thing, but let’s be realistic, it’s never going to happen. I fantasise about it, about the peace of living alone, and it feels possible and important and like something that might somehow save me.
But then I look at where I am, and I look at where I want to be, and the road is long and twisting and obscured. I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy or drive or confidence to change my life.
So I stay where I am and the space I have to exist in shrinks around me. There is nowhere I can be myself, nowhere I’m allowed to have or express feelings.
One of my dearest friends, possibly the person who knows me best in the world, says I’m hardly human, I’m like a fictional character. He can’t understand how I’m never upset or angry or lost for words, how I’m always calm and reasonable and logical. There is no way of proving otherwise. Maybe a braver person would see those comments as an invitation to confide, to fall weeping on to a friend and admit to terrible, painful feelings. But I am too distant and locked away for that. I just nod and smile and laugh and say yeah, I’m probably an alien or something. Then he tells me about his problems and I try to be supportive.
Then I go home, and resigned to the fact I’ll probably live here forever, it is suffocating. I feel the walls closing in around me. I listen to my mother shouting and screaming and crying, practically 24 hours a day. It’s never quiet, I hardly sleep, and if I speak to her I get a barrage of insults. This weekend has been particularly hard. She says I’m
vile, disgusting, evil, cruel, disgraceful, brainwashed, stupid, awful, horrible, pathetic, useless, a disappointment
and then she proceeds to tell me about every distant relative and old, half-forgotten friend who’s getting married and having children and reminding me how much I’m letting her down by not being like them.
I feel like I can hardly breathe. I feel like I can hardly think. All there is in my mind is self-destructive anger. I want to tear myself into a million pieces and be scattered to the wind. I want to lie down and sleep, properly sleep, in darkness and silence, and never wake up. More than anything, I want to have never existed.
I am a terrible mistake. I am a burden on everyone around me, and life is a burden on me. It weighs on me so heavily.
I’m never going to achieve anything, now. Nothing resembling happiness for me or anyone else will ever come out of me being alive. I’m useless, a drain on everyone. Just a pointless, empty shell of a person, with nothing real or good or helpful inside.
Why is everything so hard? It’s probably me. Maybe if I wasn’t so pathetic, my life would be worth living.
I don’t ever want to wake up again. I hope it’s all over soon.
3 Responses to "Sorry, this is not a cheerful read."
If you are feeling this low then you have nothing left to lose. You might as well take the plunge and move out. I had to move away from my toxic mother.
I hope you’re doing okay. I know the lows are awful. Please take care.
1 | Emma
February 21, 2016 at 4:26 am
I know it’s hard. I’m 23, & trying to work toward moving out on my own, as well. Please take the leap. That environment sounds toxic. I know it’s scary. We share similar mental health troubles. I understand. If you can afford it, take the leap.
You’re not a mistake. We don’t know each other, but you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know. Please stay safe. Keep going. The depression always ends eventually