All the lonely people…
I’ve had all the friends I’ll ever have, and they’ve all gone away. I avoid making new friends in the real world now. I don’t answer the phone because it’s never anyone for me. Why am I still living? What kind of life is this where I’ve trapped myself so severely, isolated myself beyond the point of insanity? Why go on? I’ve lowered my dosage by another 25 mg, meaning I’m taking the least amount I can without cutting a pill in half, and I feel like dead weight. Throw me away already, I am nothing good. Damn…I can hardly get out of bed now simply because I can’t find the motivation to do so. Sure, there’s a lot I can do, many hobbies, but I just can’t move some mornings. It’s to the point where my legs and hips will ache as I lay, and I still don’t move, despite the increasing pain. It’s as if I don’t care if it hurts to lay there, I just don’t want to leave my bed and face the task of occupying another day.
50 mg, of Zoloft. That’s all I’m taking now. One tiny pill, and I guess I got what I wanted. It’s not so scary to think about pain anymore. Not like when I was on 150 mg of Zoloft..lol. That’s only because I was twitching and moving and thinking too much, and too fast to consider pain and death. I was actually living during those few weeks. Not anymore. Now I know I truly can’t expect anything to work out for very long…this medication’s effects wore off too soon….at least that’s what I’m guessing happened.
There’s a feeling welling up inside that tells me something has to die soon in my life. Maybe it’s a way of thinking I have, maybe it’s a relationship within the family, or maybe it’s simply a bad habit, but something needs to die. That includes my physical death. Wouldn’t that be a weight at least off my family’s shoulders? My inability to get a job, or to make contacts and relationships makes me believe I can’t live and be independent. That scares me, because it means I might be a leech the rest of my life, and I don’t want that. But then I ask myself what I do want, and I come up with nothing. That doesn’t scare me; it makes me think I’ve just figured out the answer to every problem. If I want nothing, I shouldn’t take anything, not even another breath.
Things got complicated. And I realize I’ve not gotten better, just more tangled in the nightmare, too involved without anything to offer. I can not solve it.
April 10, 2008 at 1:26 pm
I remember those days, the ones where nothing went right, or it did, but I simply couldnt see it, the days when drinking just didnt seem to numb things enough, or working long hours didnt seem to distract me well enough. Nothing served what I was looking for, nothing helped, nothing would….constantly looking over your shoulder, looking for who you were, what you had…living in the past, searching for familiarness…..wondering where it all went, and what lay ahead, what the point was, what your reason was….moving takes effort, effort takes motivation, and motivation is lost…the all to familiar days…no advice…I know I dont know you…but know your not alone out there….
April 12, 2008 at 3:38 pm
I try to keep thinking that perhaps there is a point to all of this suffering…I don’t mean fate or some grand sceme, but on a personal level. Maybe this is our way of cutting ourselves off from something that we know, deep down, is not for us.
People always tell me that it’s impossible for a person to survive alone, even on a mental level, that we have to relate others and so on because of the supposed social instincts/needs of our humanity. I’m not so sure. If we were such social creatures then why do we kill, why do we harm? I think some people are social, surely, but not all of us. Really, I think for some, when you force them to be social…it does so much more harm than good. Personally, it makes me self-destructive, it makes me want to die. I can’t help but want to vomit every time some new idiot comes up to me and asks me about my life and expects me to answer truthfully. When I’m in a classroom full of people I’m in hell. I’d rather feel physical pain than endure speaking with others and pretending over and over that I can relate to their petty little ideals and their relationship problems. It sickens me. They sit there whining about how they couldn’t get to their homework last night, or how the book’s too hard to read, while every day of late, I contemplate ending my life. And I know you probably do the same…. And what is so pathetic is that nobody knows…no one sees. I guess they never will.
I’m sorry the medication didn’t work out well; it had to have been a huge disappointment. I really don’t know what to say, or how to help. Every day I just try to come up with one thing, one reason to stay alive. Like maybe tomorrow I’ll go quading, or maybe I’ll go for an extra-long walk and write in my journal.
Sometimes it’s just small things that make the difference.