I've been sitting here for a while trying to decide where to start. Ever since I could remember, I've had this feeling of un-belonging. I don't really know how to explain it. There are these times, only for a split second, where I get the feeling my existence is not my own. In these moments its almost as if I see past a veil, into...er this will never come out right...into a place where consciousness exists uninhibited by physical reality. Can you imagine being 5-6 years old and having a feeling like this. Disturbing can't even begin to describe it. I've always been an introspective and meditative person...to a fault. People were scared of me in grade school and high school, because I didn't talk much. Some tried to befriend me, but...even they seemed to not understand who I was. There where yet others that would try to use me through friendship. I could always see these people for what they were, but I would entertain them because it almost gave me some kind of purpose here in reality. I joined the military after high school. The US Air Force, working around the worlds most powerful weapons. I was good at my job and I was fairly content, except for one digression into drug use. Eventually the military found out though, and regardless of excellent work records they have rules and regulations to uphold (and they wonder why less and less people want to join). I got a job short after that working as a lube & tire tech, moving up to mechanic, then to a managerial position in less than a couple of years. I do quite well at anything I put my mind to. The problem is that feeling creeps in. That feeling of not belonging...a feeling I'm missing out on something big. I just snapped one day. Walked out of my job and went on a massive drug binge. DXM, Tramadol, San Pedro. I'm now nearly 26 years old. As cliche as it sounds, I have no place in this world. My mother and sister both think it is as simple as getting up and working. Throwing yourself into the capitalistic machine and becoming the user and the used. Doctors just want to throw anti-depressants at me, they then tell me how knowledgeable I seem about my own thoughts and feelings...that they think I'm capable of working my way through these feelings, that they have no clue how else they can help me. The last few weeks have been the worst...I feel like my dreams are becoming more real than my waking life. I feel like I'm coming really close to putting steel to flesh as I sit here now with a few hundred mgs of tramadol coursing through my blood. Some may say I need to check myself into a clinic...but imo that loss of freedom is worse than death. I'd love to be able to just jump in my Olds and drive...but it isn't running I I have no cash. Ugh, I swear...I'll never be able to win in this world.