- I have problems
- I “need” porn to cheer myself up
- I need help
- I am very likely autistic (mild form)
- I was naturally good-hearted
- I am broken
- I have some friends
- I can’t really work in a conventional job
- I am very sensitive
- I probably have CPTSD (complex post traumatic stress disorder)
- When I defend myself I usually do it at the wrong time
- When I don’t defend myself I get hurt
- When I feel free it often gets taken from me after a short period of time (usually not by myself)
- As a result I started to harm myself with messing with my mind when I was in elementary school
- I experienced several small and probably some big T’s (traumatic events)
- I got into thinking that I was the problem
- When I was in elementary school I realized that I won’t be able to work when I am an adult
- When I was in elementary school someone started to bully me because I hurt him through stupid behavior but couldn’t remember it
- I got more and more broken until I believed that I would do wrong no matter what
- I got into thinking that I have to do what others want from me because I would always do wrong anyways
- I gave up on the things I wanted
- I don’t really know anymore what I actually want because when I do what I think I want it starts to scare me or break me as well
- Things I wanted and like to do from 2 years upwards: listening to music, playing on pianos/keyboard and such, learning new things, playing with my imagination, playing with friends, technology, writing, helping others, playing video games, watching TV, surfing through the internet, programming, understanding computers and IT in general, a little bit of hacking (just to understand how it basically works), other people’s ideas and opinions (constructive), for example new discoveries in science compared to scifi, a little bit of drawing, and so on
- And now I think that I am a problem to myself and others, while I know that most people don’t see me as a problem
- I more and more start to go crazy
- I don’t know whether something is because I am broken and because that is just me
- I fear that all is just a nightmare
- I fear that I am in hell
- I fear that nothing makes sense but I can’t see it because most of my life didn’t make sense to me, after all these misunderstandings, all what I got blamed for (e.g. I tried to defend myself against my bully, but then I was called the troublemaker…, I tried to accept it – why don’t you defend yourself?)
- I feel like as if all the dystopic horror scifi future or present scenarios could be somehow real
- I think that my thoughts could become realitiy
- I hope that writing this down helps me
- I feel trapped, but whatever I do to get out of the trap, makes it just harder
- I think I can’t escape this alone, but I fear that I am alone (but I know this shouldn’t be the case)
- I don’t know what I should think or know or trust
- … 😦
What is me? What am I? … 😦
I hope that I don’t seem like a liar, I was mainly lying to myself most of my life to protect myself and to kill myself in the long run. I knew as a kid that I wouldn’t be able to kill myself because I just was too weak (and yes I know it is bad and I don’t really want to die anymore, but the damage is still there). I thought that I had no other choice.
Would I harm myself visibly, everyone would see it and try to help me. For me this was a problem because in my mindset it is like this: Help would mean talking, getting medication, accepting that I have to work while I knew it was bad for me, so pointless. For me the help seemed (and sadly most of the time still seems) pointless because most of the problems are not fixable, at least from the mindset. You sure can give me another job, but for me it seemed as if it will kill me no matter what.
Also I knew that killing myself, should I be able to do it, would only cause more damage. Now I sure don’t want to do that anymore, but sometimes I still feel like it. So it was like: Work = death, suicide = death + people who love me cry, surviving = pointless, but only option. Then I started to sabotage myself so that I could accept it. I did manipulate myself in my mind until it got an automatic behavior, so that what others said to me or what the situations caused in me would automatically be expanded until I believe it. Then I would accept that I am useless, hopeless and a problem until maybe one day I could finally end my life because I wouldn’t care anymore. But then there was hell or the unknown after life, so I was in a deadlock kind of situation. Just time was passing by, my broken mind obviously got worse and worse and in the end I am here writing it all to fulfill it all or what? But the fact that I am now openly writing about all my problems, thoughts, fears etc. shows that my souls didn’t give up on me or something inside of me. Still I think that the people who read this will just think what they want and maybe just leave me or act cofused because what else should someone say, right?
I am so happy that there are some people out there who like what I write and that some people even answered my comments. I know that some people care for me, but in my mind this often also mixes with fake, so that I believe it is all just there to make me think that people care or that my life is real until I go fully crazy or die. The little rational or logic of my brain which probably isn’t broken tells me that this can’t be, that not everyone is against me and I know that. But sometimes it feels like this and it feels as if everything just exists because of me because I wanted it this way. This is not true, but tell this my mind… 😦
When I had some peaceful hours in the forest I could cry and laugh, just express my feelings and even at home sometimes. I just felt real, good, just broken, but nothing which couldn’t be repaired. But then things happen again and I lose it again. As if my purpose is to die.
And my whole body feels unhealthy because of all, so my broken childhood plan to kill myself in the long run might worked after all…
I already got a surgery with 20 because I almost died from a gallstone blocking the gall duct, which caused my pancreas to digest itself or something. And I should add, that I lived with gallstones passing through for around 3 years, always just accepting the pain it caused, telling myself it was okay. It sure didn’t feel okay, but usually when I went to the doctor when something did hurt, I got told it wasn’t that bad, so I told myself that it can’t be that bad. Some months before that I even went to the doctor because of it. It didn’t stop after 10 – 60 minutes (what it usually took when probably a gallstone was stuck, what I didn’t know) and lasted half a day. But when I got to the doctor the gallstone was already out (I suppose) and I also didn’t / couldn’t tell about this pain I had for 3 years. So the doctor just said it must be that I probably ate too much. That supported my belief and so I went home again. Maybe I didn’t say something about the 3 years because the last time when me and my mother went to a doctor after my back did hurt for a while (in periods, not all the time, but in general over probably a time of a year or more), the doctor was shocked as if we did something bad. So I probably developed a fear against telling the whole story.
Man, I feel like doing everything wrong. I know that it is not true, but I nearly lost my mind several times in the last weeks and maybe throughout most of my life. I simply pretended to be fine, while I knew I just waited for death. Whatever I tried to help myself got into being wrong until I didn’t try to and now I do it again, hoping it will work. But I fear that as a response people will say, go to a therapist, but then I probably would block again. Last time I was with a therapist I really didn’t know why I was there, believing that I must be fine. And that if not, he probably couldn’t help me anyways.
This is so broken, strange and scary. I would like it to be just a story or something, but this is my life, my mind, my whatever I am or this is.
And I also fear, that people will read my blog and think that I am “just” crazy. That I am making things up, that I don’t want help or even worse, that this is funny for me and I am joking. I don’t know, but some people could think that…
I hope you don’t do that, but I feel so lost and broken. I hope you don’t think that I am “just” crazy and hopeless and a lost case. But I don’t know……..
I am writing for my life, you could say. I making music to survive. I am trying to save others and spread love. But I fear that I will just make it all worse and then I think, why am I still here, why am I doing all of this anyways? FUUUUUU***************
And motivational speeches, like: “Just do it!” (meaning do the things your dream of, like having a good job, good life, or something) often translates into: “Finally kill yourself! JUST DO IT!” Because this was one of my dreams.
Is this even legal what I am writing here… I don’t know. I just want that love is there for everyone, I want that we humans can work together, but then it all makes no sense most of the time… AM I EVEN HUMAN?
Sorry. Sorry for my words, sorry for (maybe) harming you. I don’t want that people suffer, I don’t want that people have to take drugs, pills, alcohol etc. to live. I don’t want that nothing makes sense. I don’t want that there is only a hopeless dystopic future. I don’t want that we are fighting each other, but love each other and support each other. I want peace. I want freedom. But I fear, that this will never be and that I doomed myself because I can’t kill myself or maybe I did it already and now I am in my own hell, reliving it over and over again. I don’t know……………….. this so crazy… so broken. I think I am doing this because I just couldn’t hold it all back. Last year I started to write to my closest friend who is also one my cousins. He is like a brother for me. This year I started to write publicly. I just need to shout it out loud, to release it. But I fear it will only make things worse for me and others. Most of the time this was the case. I can only pray and hope that the truth, the love and honesty and all good will win one day. That atleast we humans can stop hurting each other. People could still break their legs, get hit my a lighting strike and such, but at least we wouldn’t kill and hurt each other anymore. There is already enough pain and problems around us. Why do we make our lives even more complex, even more harmful and problematic? … Do we all want to die? … I don’t know, but I don’t believe that. I can’t, otherwise, why didn’t we already do it, right? … I don’t know. I can just pray.
And to make this a perfect mess. I will probably go watch some porn now and lose myself. I am over sharing, I over dramatizing… say what you want. I just feel lost and broken and almost crazy. I just want good… but it feels unreachable for me.
I pray that the generations after us don’t have to suffer like this, that people who are still able to think normal and do their jobs, will find ways to actually make things better. I can only try to survive and struggle my way forward, to whatever there is until I either die one way or another or maybe something good happens. I don’t wish anyone to experience my life and to suffer in general. My life isn’t the worst life, I suppose, but it still is far from good and normal. Am I the problem? I sure feel like it, while I know it isn’t just me alone. I am a problem solver for others, at least I was one for some times when I was blocking my own problems and was distracted. But my own problems… I can’t handle them, at least not the ones inside my head.
Trapped in my own mind, my own hell. I know there are ways out of it, but for me there is only surviving for whatever reason or dying. Not “tomorrow will be a good day”. Sometimes I can convince myself that a day was good. Some days are actually good. But I always have all my problems in my mind, around me (where I live) and there keep coming new ones in.
Happy birthday… John. Happy … deathday.
I actually have birthday today and I am sad that my mother tried to cheer me up, which actually worked a little, only to be broken down again by my father who just did what he wanted. I said: “I don’t want to eat cake. I don’t want to sit together on my birthday.” But he brought a cake anyways, was in a rage and then left again. Now there is a cake in the kitchen me and my mother don’t want. My opinion got ignored again by my father and me and my mother are broken again. Again, if someone asks how hell would be…
I don’t need to imagine hell, I am already in it. Or at least it feels this way most of the time. Only when I feel good sometimes, I know I am probably still alive. But how should I know, right?