Purpose

I don’t know what the purpose of this blog is. But then again, I don’t know what the purpose of anything is. I don’t have a purpose.
Nobody reads it and nobody cares. Maybe if I put more effort in, people would, but I don’t have any motivation left any more.
What would be the point of others’ reading it anyway? They’d only dislike me more for being an annoying, whingey, clingy brat. It’s better off remaining anonymous and unattended to.

I honestly think that if I never bothered to make contact with anyone ever again, no one else would make the first move. I have just returned from a trip to Liverpool and not one person had text me during the duration of the three days, my parents inclusive.

Suicide is selfish and we all are aware of this but following a failed (rather half-assed) suicide attempt last year, I now plan instead to take my life after both of my parents have died. I don’t think a parent ever has to go through the pain of losing their child, no matter how much I can’t be bothered with life. I try so hard to be a good and fair person but I know deep down I have failed, because the fact that I can soberly admit these plans (even anonymously) shows how selfish I truly am.

Depression is a complicated illness. I don’t even know if it’s just depression, I can see elements of bipolar tendencies in my behaviour at times too. But regardless, mental illnesses are not easy to understand at all. A non-suffer can never know what it’s like to feel like this and I know it’s not fair to get frustrated at them for that but I can’t help it. I just want someone to hug me forever and tell me it will be okay and mean it. Even though I know it’s never going to be okay.

For me, there is just no escape. During the day all I do is worry about not having plans for the day and ending up having to spend time alone with the dark thoughts. Even if I am with people, the dark thoughts are still there, though granted they are not as difficult in the company of others. But it’s impossible to be with people 24/7 and I know the bad thoughts will come back time and time again, no matter how hard I try, breaking me down each and every time.

People who don’t know me well probably think I’m such a bubbly outgoing person. I go out lots and like to do stuff and I do have a lot of friends, but these are mere distractions from the unbearable pain that comes with sitting alone detesting every part of my self. Many of these “friends” aren’t friends at all either. When times get tough they disappear, returning only when they hear word of the next booze-infused house party hosted by me in an attempt to drown my sorrows. All I am doing is filling time on this earth until it’s time for me to go.

I care about my family and friends loads but I think I expect too much from them. I feel like I love every single person I know ten thousand times more than they love me. I wouldn’t be able to survive without them, but they could take me or leave me. I feel emotions too deeply and exaggerate connections, and, although I am very self-aware, I can’t change the way I feel. It’s as if I have been let down by everyone, even my parents. My parents are very nice people who have done loads for me but I feel this rejection even from them. When they split up I was just a kid, but I would ring my dad every night crying asking if I could live with him. He declined and instructed me to go to sleep. More recently, my mum got a job on the other side of the country, moved out and left me to live by myself. To be fair, I told her to go, I told her I would be okay, but I just can’t imagine any of my friends mothers’ doing likewise. Could she not see that I am clearly not okay?

Drowning

I cannot even articulate this breakdown. Send help.

All Talk, No Action

I had been dreaming of buying a 3ds for the guts of two years; researching new games as they came out and visiting secondhand computer shops to drool over them longingly. Being handheld console with the graphics of a plugin one, with a ream of games, both classics remastered and new titles alike, it seemed like the perfect console. I was sure it would make me happy.
Last week, I finally bought one. Spending my entire 200 euro Christmas money on the console and one game. It was way out of my price range, and I definitely would have been better off spending that money on something much less discretionary, such as rent or food.
But I thought it would make me happy, so I bought it.
Now don’t get me wrong. The 3d graphics are spellbinding. It feels great and sits comfortably in your hand. The addition of the circle pad on the left-hand side makes gameplay run smoother than I could have ever imagined. The story of the game I got (Zelda: A Link Between Worlds, if anyone cares..) is captivating and addictive. I haven’t got a single complaint to make.

But I was still disappointed. I think that somewhere within me, I had imagined that a product would be my secret key to happiness. Even though deep down I knew this could never be true, I was clutching at straws of desperation because being content is something I no longer know. I’ve tried so many things to be happy.
I thought being skinny would make me happy, so I lost weight.
I thought eating shite again would make me happy, so I did.
I thought getting a good leaving cert would make me happy, so I studied hard and did really well.
I thought getting a job would make me happy, so I looked for one.
I thought being unemployed would make me happy, so I was for a while.
I thought moving to Galway for college would make me happy, so off I went.
I thought moving away from Galway would make me happy, so I left for Dublin.
You get the idea. I’ve tried it all. There is no way for me to be happy and I just have to accept it. And as for coping strategies; you name it and I have tried it; reckless sex, getting drunk, doing drugs, burning myself, not eating, eating, smashing plates, medication, counselling. Some of those are more socially acceptable than others but the thing to take note of is that nothing worked. Some things work briefly but there is no long term solution. You just have to suffer on.

I hate being like this. I am such an energy vampire. All I do is suck the life out of everyone. My brother told me to “stop being so negative, or at least internalise it.” This left me feeling distraught but I can see his point. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t want to have a whiney, complaining, seemingly spoilt little sister whos’ always bringing the mood down either.

As much as I can, I try to mask the pain with laughter and false cheeriness. My dad always talks of the song “Tears of a Clown” and I can relate to the title so much. I’m the dud, the clown, the jokester that no one takes seriously. I hid my feelings behind jokes and laughs for years but I just don’t have the energy to hide it anymore. I’m sick of pretending to be okay.

I keep writing to everyone looking for some intelligent conversation but everyone only cares about looks and celebrities and mundane shit like that. I just don’t have any interest in what this world has become. It’s all disillusionment and happiness seems to only be an imagined thing. Our online personas have become everything. It is more important to put up a status about how you’re enjoying something rather than just actually enjoying it. This world is a joke and I don’t want to be part of it.

Bedtime Reading

Before I sleep (or toss and turn for another few hours) I will tell you a little story.

Last summer I was in a taxi back from a night out and we came across a car crash. My friend, her twin and another guy I knew from school were in the car that crashed. I freaked out as I watched them all panic. Then I froze. It was all so surreal.

My friend’s twin was badly injured. I could see him bleeding. I still see him bleeding in my nightmares.

She was crying. I hugged her. I felt useless but I hugged her and told her it would be okay even though I knew it would never be okay. “He’s going to die” she repeated over and over. She wasn’t crying. She just looked into my eyes and repeated the statement.

I hugged her tighter and tighter. “He’s going to live. I promise.”
I don’t know why I said it. I knew when I looked at him that he wasn’t going to live. He was dying right in front of us. I didn’t know what else to do.

He died that night. I promised her he would live, and he didn’t. I wish I had died that night instead.

Collecting Thoughts

Okay so here’s another post and this time I’m going to TRY not to make it all “woe is me” and instead aim to actually make some points.

I don’t like telling lies to others. I don’t see the point in it, why bother wasting your time? There’s obviously the whole guilt aspect as well, let’s not open that door just yet. However, one thing I have noticed is how easy it is to lie to yourself.
I spoke before about perception, and how it is central to everything. I spoke of how it’s so easy to look back on times gone by and realise how good you had it at the time, yet in the moment, you didn’t appreciate it at all.

I always thought that hindsight is 20/20 but I’m not so sure anymore. When I was eventually dragged out of bed today, me and my brother got to talking, chatting shite about when we were kids and stuff. Lighthearted banter mostly, but we reflected on some stories I’d kinda forgotten about. Stories which brought up memories of me being actually pretty troubled at times. I wouldn’t be arsed going into detail at the minute but basically I realised that I’d been looking back with rose – tinted glasses. I remember being on school trip with my class when I was ten and wishing I was dead. I don’t think I was ever truly okay.

I said before that most of my friends don’t care, which in hindsight was a very unfair thing to say. They do care a bit. During a breakdown last week my friend had said to me “You’ll be okay again”. Kind words, but untrue. I know I won’t.

I didn’t ask to be born. But neither did my mother, nor my father, nor their parents before them. They all just made the best out of a bad situation and that situation, is life. I’m never going to kill myself or show how bad my struggles are, because that would only make their struggle worse. They have gone to such effort to try and create an enjoyable life for me and it would be catastrophic to just take that away from them.

It’s not all bad. I’ve had some good moments. It doesn’t seem worth it, and it probably isn’t. But I’m in too deep now and I’m just going to have to ride it out.

But I’m finding comfort in the fact that no one lives forever. No one is okay really. We all have our own stuff going on. I will be okay again at the end, when it’s all over.

This post is crap but it’s 6am and I’m not bothered. Just going through the motions. I thought writing might help.

12 Hours Later

It’s now quarter to eight on the same Sunday evening and I’m still lying here in bed as before. I’ve left my room thrice to drink some water and to use the toilet. That’s much productivity as I can muster for today.

Christmas is in four days and all of my friends are going out tonight. The people from work are doing twelve pubs too. But I’m just sitting here, too anxious to leave my room.

Been in bed for like 22 hours straight now. Nothing out of the ordinary really, it’s the only place I feel kind of safe. I don’t want to deal with the outside world. Not now, not ever. They just don’t understand. My friend asked me why I wasn’t going out and I said “I don’t wanna get drunk and cry” desperately hinting that I am not okay. She merely responded with “Riiiiiiiiight” leaving me feeling embarrassed, worthless and pathetic.

I think everyone thinks that I’m just attention-seeking and that I just want to cause a fuss for the sake of it. When I reach out to people they seem to just brush it off and it hurts so much when this happens. I have one friend who listens to me and if it wasn’t for her I really don’t think I’d even be here to write this. She’s the only one I’ve told about this blog.

I haven’t posted here in ages and now I’m posting twice in one day. I’m desperate and I need to get my thoughts out somewhere. It makes me so sad to read back on my old posts where there is even a tinge of hope. I’ve always had issues but I used to have hope that things would get better but I’m honestly just finished trying. Now I just go through the motions and do what needs to be done but I have no passion for anything any more. I’m going to lose everyone and I know this. Who wants to be friends with an unstable complainer?

Life just feels like a black hole. What’s the point of anything? Not just for me, but for anyone. We just go through a pile of difficult stuff and then die. Surviving isn’t easy so why do we bother?

No One Cares

It’s quarter past eight on a Sunday morning and I’m lying in bed choking back the uninvited tears. The makeup I had so carefully applied for the wedding yesterday is now streaming down my face. I’m tired and shaking but sleep won’t come. I really do feel sick.

People always say they’ll be there for you. “I’m always here”, “You’re not alone” , “Come to me with anything”. But those are just buzzwords used to shut people up when they’re bringing down the mood. Nobody actually wants to talk. I am in this alone. Everytime I try and have a conversation about how I’m feeling, nobody wants to listen. They wish me luck, possibly encourage me to cheer up and get on their merry way again. And they’re not wrong, why should they sit and listen to my depressing ramblings? I am owed nothing by them. I am owed nothing at all.

But I just want to talk. I need to vent. Nothing has even happened but it’s still all too much. Nobody is ever gonna read this and I don’t even care because no one cares. Except I do care. My mind is racing, nothing makes sense anymore. The difference between reality and imagination is no longer clear. Does everyone actually hate me or am I just paranoid? It’s like I need constant attention all the time and I’m never gonna be happy cos I’m never gonna get it. I’m not okay and I haven’t been okay for ages and I’m never going to be okay again. That’s the sad reality.

It’s not that I want to die. That’s very unfair and would leave incredible pain for so many people that I really do care about. Not to mention expense. Suicide is so selfish. I’m already such a selfish person, and as I’ve been told before “It’s not all about you”. Suicide is too attention – seeking. I want to be run over or something, killed accidentally, so that the fault doesn’t lie with me. How selfish is that? But as I said before, I am a selfish, pathetic person.
Better yet, I wish I’d have never existed. Things were so much better before I came along anyway. If I’d have just never been born, then nobody would have even missed me.

Life is fucking stupid anyway and it makes no sense. The amount of people living in this world yet people still consider their family and friends to be the best people they know. That’s ridiculous cos they haven’t even met a fraction of all the population of the world. We just think we love people but that’s not it at all. We just become used to having them around, that’s all. It’s just habit. So if my friends and family had never met me, they’d never miss me. I wish that could be the case. I’m in too deep.

Perception

When I look back on my childhood, I can’t help but consider it the happiest time of my life. The innocence, family time and endless hours playing video games is something that just doesn’t happen these days. I remember my brother asking me one day when I was about 7 how much I reckoned a house would cost to buy. “Maybe around 80, depending on the house?” I reponded genuinely. Sure the Mewtew toy I wanted for ages was only a 5er. Surely a house wouldn’t be more than 16 times the value of that? Little did I know..

My point is that at the time, I had no idea how happy I really was. I just went along with it, never appreciated it and things bothered me all the time. I feel like I never really enjoyed it.

I’m scared that the same will happen in future. Or God forbid, is even happening now. How do we know when we reach our happiness? Will we stop to appreciate it? I’m terrified that I won’t.

Last year, for example, I wasted my life away constantly wishing that I could at last break free from home life and move away to college. Yet now that I’m in college, it’s fairly shit. A part of me longs to be back at school- surrounded by my friends every day, the comfort of not having to worry about bills, the craic at dinner with my family. How did I miss all this at the time?

I wonder if things were really as good as they seem. After all, it’s all about perception. At the time you might think something is just awful, but you hadn’t realised just how awful things are elsewhere.

The point I’m making may be slightly confused. What I’m trying to say is – don’t wish your life away. Try and appreciate what you have in the now. No matter how better things may become, or may have been in the past. There is a part of you somewhere in the future that will long to have the opportunities and comforts that you have now.

“Live the life you love.” (This is a personal joke that literally no one will get as I’ve kept this blog anonymous. But it made me laugh so that’s all that matters) 

🙂

Whiney Rant

I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything has literally gone to shit. I wish there was an instant fix to make everything better but I know there never will be and it tears me up inside. 

It’s always the same. Things look better for a while and I become really optimistic but the optimism never lasts and I let myself down all over again. I don’t know why I won’t allow myself to have happiness. It’s like I’m in a constant battle with myself.

I just want someone to hug me and tell me that it’s going to be okay. But any time someone asks me if I actually am okay, I am never honest. What am I supposed to say?  “Actually I’m terrible. I hate myself. Nothing you can say will fix this.” That’s not the response you’re supposed to give. That’s not what they were looking for. And worst of all, I’m scared if I did say something like that, I’d only get away with it once. I need to save it for when I’m at my lowest. But how will I ever know when that is going to be? Each time it feels like I can’t get any lower, it does.

I do admit to my friends that I’m having difficulties. But I don’t want to be “that girl” who complains constantly about how depressed she is and how much she hates her life. Who wants to be friends with a dramatic complainer? They RARELY approach me with things like this, it shouldn’t be a one-way street. That’s not what friendship is about. Anyway, I have no reason to feel like this, because really, my life is okay. I’m not rich or pretty and I’ve got no love interest and I’ve made a complete mess of certain things but in the big scheme of things I know this is not a big deal. There are people out there fighting for their life. Why don’t I appreciate mine? 

I feel like having someone who depends on me would give my life more purpose. I have friends that I literally do not know where I would be without them, but I’ve never got the opportunity to help them the same way. I feel like everyone values me less than I value them. I seem to think and worry more than most people. I wish I could just not give a fuck about anything but instead I give a fuck about everything, yet can’t seem to do anything about it.

I feel like all my willpower is gone. Are we given a limit? I have worked so hard in the past. Giving up shitty foods, taking on strenuous exercise, putting loads of effort into academics. Of course all of that has long since fallen by the wayside. But I feel like I was so motivated back then, that I can never get motivated again now. As if I’ve used up my limit. My self-control is gone now. It’s like someone else has power over me and they are making me do all the worst things for me.

I’m so frustrated. I wish I could express it but I just can’t. I want to cry but the tears won’t even come anymore. I wish I had some control.

Is this how it feels to be depressed?

I have never been diagnosed with depression, but there is definitely something up with me. It’s gotten so much worse recently. I wish I would explain it.

Everything is shit today, and with no good reason. I almost wish something terrible would happen so I would have an excuse for moping around.

I had been feeling shitty for ages but decided to turn my life around, and things are finally looking hopeful. I thought this would be the end of the days spent crying in bed.

But when I woke up today I just knew it wasn’t going to be a good day. All I felt was sad and fat. The only escape being a quick snooze every few hours.

A friend invited me to go out for drinks tonight but I declined. She then asked if I’d rather get a chinese and sit in. I don’t know why, but I still didn’t want to and said no. Even though I really miss her and want to see her. It doesn’t make sense. I’m scared I will lose everyone I care about if I continue on this way but I just don’t feel like talking to anyone.

At 9 o’ clock this evening, I finally got out of bed and went for a shower. Whilst in the shower, I couldn’t get the temperature right. (our shower works fine). I couldn’t even stand in the cold and when I changed it to one setting warmer it scalded me so much I cried. There was a brief moment of relief during the transition from cold to hot, just tempting me as to what it should feel like.
At the minute this is how I feel about my life. I can’t strike a balance. It’s all or fucking nothing and I just feel like shit. Today I can’t even find the brief moment of relief. I just want to be numb. 

I thought getting dressed and going for a walk might help. But I looked so fat and physically disgusting in any outfit I tried on. I look at my stomach purging over my tracksuit bottoms. Surely I wasn’t this fat yesterday? I don’t think so. Maybe my perception is out of whack? Or am I just saying that to look for an excuse? 

I’m gonna go for the walk anyway. I can’t sit here crying any longer.