I left this site not too long ago, and now I'm already desperate enough to come back. Pathetic right? I kept finding myself staring at the home page of this site after watching and reading everything about suicide I could find a hundred fucking times. I tried to get better for a while, now I'm giving up on that. I actually tried for a while to get better (A bit over 2 years), tried to find help, get on meds, all that. Well, the meds didn't work and now I've got therapists rejecting me for my symptoms being "too severe" (Even though I hardly told them a damn thing) On top of that my drug addictions are as bad as ever, and now I'm watching myself slide down the path of an alcoholic and I can't do a damn thing to stop it. Recently I've had intense headaches lately lasting hours that nearly make me cry. Last night I was screaming profanities for 6 hours straight because it hurt so damn much, I ended up puking because of the pain even though I had nothing to puke up because I hadn't eaten anything. Everything I eat just makes me feel so sick anyways, I can't ever seem to fall asleep, but when I finally do I can't fucking wake up because I hate being in this world so much. I feel like crying every single time I wake up. Sometimes staying awake forever seems like the better idea, at least then I don't have to wake up. I've got one friend, he's currently homeless but the girl he's loved all his life recently moved back to Colorado and now I guess there's a good chance he'll move in with her and they'll be all kinds of happy. If not, well he's got a ton of other girls telling him they love him and he can go live with them. As much I want to pretend like I'm not lonely, I get so jealous. I wish I could mean that much to even ONE single fucking person, but that's not realistic. I've always been a loner, and I don't even think I want that to change anymore. I don't want anyone to get close to me, because I can't tell anyone about who I am or what I've done. Even if it's not romantically oriented social situations, everyone wants to talk to him and I'm like a ghost standing over his shoulder. Nobody would even notice or care if I wasn't there. It doesn't matter what I do, how incredibly nice I am, or if I devote ALL of my time to helping others with whatever I can, nobody seems to care if I exist. It's like he fits into this world and I don't. Yet I don't feel anything negative towards him for that, how could I? Still, the jealousy makes me feel like a selfish little fuck. My "family" as always hates the ever loving shit out of me. They always give me shit about how I'm always gone, yet whenever I'm at home and they see me they HAVE to bitch me out for the latest bullshit. I do everything I can to help out around here, I never say anything mean to any of them (Even though I've been very tempted nearly every day of my life) they can't seem to grasp that I'm an insomniac, I don't get to sleep nearly as early as them yet I'm expected to wake up when they do no matter how early. I'll get bitched out for over sleeping even if I don't sleep, I try to tell them and they just blow me off. Not like anyone in my family has ever listened to a damn thing I've said anyways. I can't talk to them about my depression or my anxiety because they don't understand it, they think I'm just being weak. They bitch me out for my suicidal ideation, call me a "fucking coward" and the times I've attempted they came to the hospital screaming and hitting me because they had to get up off their lazy asses and come get me. Not because they actually gave a fuck or anything. Sorry I wasn't successful I guess. I've never been in a "real" relationship. I'm always the re-bound or the boy toy, never anything serious. I've tried pretty much my whole fucking life to just not care and not desire a relationship, but that never completely works does it? I feel like a ghost already, nobody even notices me. If they do notice me, they just think I'm a freak. I know I'm weird, I know I'm different than everybody else, but no matter how perfectly I hide it, people can just tell there's something wrong with me. I'm not even sure if love exists honestly, relationships all seem to be just good friends only with sex involved (Sometimes even without the good friends part...). Sex isn't fun for me, I've only ever been used like some fucking sex toy and every time I ever have sex with anyone it fucks with my head so badly. I haven't been with anyone in a long time but one girl still uses me as a sex toy from time to time and it hurts like hell to have to kill my feelings every single fucking time. And in case anyone is wondering, no she doesn't like me, I've talked to her about this. It seems like I'm just unlovable, updateable, and completely unbearable. I can't seem to get a job because of my criminal record and the way I look. I guess somehow I look intimidating, and I guess appearance is all that matters to employers. I've tried for years to find a job and turned up absolutely nothing, If I can't get a job there goes my chances of pretending like the rest of my life could be normal or even remotely stable. I'm trying to get back into college after having to drop out because shit went haywire and I nearly ended up homeless yet again (Still not sure if sleeping out in the snow is better than living with my parents or not) I'm 21 and I still fucking live with my parents! I can't handle that, I feel like such a god awful failure. I don't even have a job, any sort of income, nothing. If nobody will hire me because of how I look (And trust me, I've tried so fucking hard to change) Then how the fuck am I supposed to make it anywhere in this fucked up little world? I don't enjoy anything, everything just seems like some disconnected dream. Like dreams and reality are equally pointless. I try to appreciate the good things in life, even the smallest thing used to mean a lot to me. Now, none of it means a damn thing. The only thing that brings me any sort of temporary relief? Drugs and booze. Even then, I hate the dependency, I hate the withdrawals, I hate the effects, and I especially hate myself for being too weak to fucking quit. I hate myself for existing, I hate how I can't seem to get better, I hate how all I do is disconnect, I hate everything about myself, but most of all? I hate myself for hating myself. Sometimes my anxieties get so bad, and I get so frustrated by constantly being put down and made to feel like a worthless pile of shit that I want to just go on a homicidal rampage as a fuck you to the world, but that makes me hate myself even more and makes me believe that I'm a fucking monster. I keep thinking maybe I need to kill myself just to keep everyone else safe. I have no social life, it seems like the only reason I talk to anyone is because of my friend Cody. Everyone wants to know how he is, how he's doing, everyone wants to help him. Which is great, it really is. Still, nobody ever wants to know how I'm doing, nobody ever wants to help me, nobody ever gives half a fuck about me. I'll be there to listen to other people all the fucking time, no matter how I feel or what I'm doing. I will drop everything to listen or help someone else, and yet when I need help, nobody is there. Nobody cares. They just blow me off even when I'm trying to tell them I'm thinking about killing myself tonight. Despite all of that, I was holding myself together for a while, but these past few days things have gotten worse and worse in my head. Sitting all alone, awake for hours with nobody to talk to, bloody fucked up memories of people's brain getting blown out, or my friend's overdosing replays in my head as the withdrawals make me want to fucking scream. I can still picture them taking him in the ambulance, I remember driving to the hospital at 2am so vividly. I remember how it felt like days before somebody came out to tell us he was gone. Sometimes I'll just fall over and start shaking and crying/laughing and I can't control it. Other times I'll sit there for hours, completely silent, staring at the walls imagining my blood smeared all over them from any number of methods. Some days the disconnect gets so bad that I don't understand words anymore. Somebody will tell me something, I know I know what the words mean and yet they don't click. I get vivid hallucinations (While sober) of water running red with my body floating downstream, or any number of fucked up things. I just see myself dead, everywhere, in so many different ways. It's like reality becomes a fucked up nightmare. I used to believe that I wasn't alone in the way I think. The constant suicidal thoughts, the emptiness, the fucked up memories, the disorders and addictions, I used to think that maybe other people were suffering just like me. I tried to find those people, but the harsh reality is I'm just too different. I grew up not talking to anyone for the longest time. Until halfway through high school the only people I talked to were parents who hated me for being the wrong son and teachers who thought I was some crazy depressive loner who was going to hurt somebody. I always thought horribly of myself because that's all I had known. Everyone else got to grow up and at least have somebody to talk to. As for the wrong son thing, this shit kills me inside too. Before my dad met my mom, he had a son. This was always the son he pictured in his one son one daughter dream scenario. After he met my mom and had my sister he had the children he had always wanted, but he couldn't see his son. This lead him into self-hatred and when I came around I was the incarnation of that hatred. Until I was 18 and living on the streets for the first extended period, I never knew this was why my parents were so nice to my sister and so fucked up towards me. I got to meet my half brother twice. The first time he was cool I guess, but the second time (After I moved back home with my parents after having a mental breakdown from seeing people getting beat, stabbed, and shot in the parking lot I parked my car in to sleep nearly every night) My brother told me something like “What's the matter pussy? Had to run home to mommy and daddy?” He doesn't know what the fuck I went through and how much I hated myself for every time I couldn't help somebody because I was too afraid of getting killed myself. Now I wish I had done something, I wish I could have been the one to die rather than having to watch someone else die, someone who probably had a family who loved them, friends, and actually meant something to other people. I will NEVER forgive myself for hiding like a little bitch when the gunshots went off. Guess I really am some pussy who had to run back home like a bitch. I hate everything about myself. I get that there are positives to being me, but those positives are never enough, I'm never good enough, nothing I do is ever good enough for anyone no matter how completely I devote myself to it. Another things that fucks me over, and helps explain why people hate me? My anxieties make me sweat, which makes me smell terrible. I can't fucking control it, and it doesn't matter what the fuck I do to try to cover up that anxiety stink, it fucking shows. Everyone looks at me like some disgusting piece of shit which makes the problem even worse and makes me want to die of sheer embarrassment. My anxieties also seem to like making me forget how to speak. I got silent a lot, if I start to feel bad I just go silent and I can't fucking speak. I've tried to overcome my anxieties, but I don't think it's even possible to get better. I think my anxieties are so firmly rooted they'll never leave. It's like all my pain and problems are all I am and that's all I can be no matter how fucking desperately I try to change things. I try to look for a way out of this hell I call my mind, this shit that reminds me how fucked and worthless I am every fucking second. It never works, my problems are not temporary, they've always been here and it doesn't seem like anything could possibly make them leave. I try SO fucking hard to just make the slightest bit of progress, and it seems like all I do is keep fucking falling. I can't change who I am, and that's the thing that hurts the most. No matter how much I come to understand, no matter how I try to change, in the end I'm still me. I'm still the same unlovable, loser, drug addicted, alcoholic, worthless piece of mentally unstable shit that I've always been. I'm so tired of being the freak everyone looks down on, I'm tired of being the one suffering in silence, I'm tired of being so fucking lonely and trying to act like I'm happy for other people. I'm tired of trying to help people who just piss on my attempts to help them. I'm tired of being made out to be the villian when I'm just trying to fucking help. I stopped caring about myself very early on. I've been suffering with depression, bi-polar disorder, and anxiety since I was a little fucking kid drawing pictures in elementary school. I'm tired of all my ambitions amounting to nothing but laughable attempts of some psychotically determined freak to make SOMETHING of himself. Anything at all, I'm just tired of being a nothing. I feel like a ghost already, I feel like I already did kill myself and now I'm just drifting in this hellish fucking limbo and the pain never left. Before I only wanted the pain to stop, now I just want oblivion. I want the end of absolutely everything. There isn't a damn thing that means a fucking thing to me anymore, I can't imagine anything that would make me want to stick around here anymore. I just want it all to stop. All the bad, all the good, everything. I keep wondering, what if dying is like sleeping? We fall asleep, leave this world, and wake up somewhere else. What if I killed myself and went to some afterlife? I don't care if the next life is the most hellishly fucked up thing imaginable, or if it's absolute paradise, I just want oblivion. Never ending darkness, no thoughts, no feelings, no existing. Just endless nothing. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem right? Well, what happens when your problems aren't temporary? What happens when this is all there was, all there ever will be? What happens when you just don't belong in this world? Does this make me a coward? Do this make me weak? Does it even fucking matter? Did anything ever fucking matter? Is my brain lying to me when I find myself believing wholeheartedly that suicide is the only option? If it wasn't, then why is there no way out? Why can't I find a way to fix things? Why can't I stop being me? Why can't I make a difference in this world? Why can't I get somebody else to understand what the fuck I'm going through? Why does everyone tell me that I “Just need to talk to the right person” When there isn't a single fucking person I can talk to who will get it or be able to help? What does “getting better” mean when there is no better? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I ever stop thinking about suicide? I guess I already answered my own question with this, I know I'm going to kill myself. I've known for a long time now. There is nothing in this world for something like me, and I should never have expected differently, right? Nobody wants to help me, and even if they wanted to it's not like anybody or anything could change a damn thing. I'm just the universe's sadistic fucking joke, and that's all I'll ever be. I might as well already be a fucking ghost, stuck here hating every second of every god awfully fucked moment of my existence. Even brief moments of "happiness" are fucking poison. A lifetime of regret isn't worth a second of the almost-happy bullshit. Maybe suicide isn't my only option, but it's the only option I know I'll pick.