"Are you ok?" asked the mysterious Kylee today.
Since she's just a spam email promoting online dating, I feel comfortable enough in her present to say "no, I most distinctly fucking am not". Kylee nods sagely, being a producted of my own stunted (un) imagination, and then goes off to butter some parsnips with some fine words.
Three years of diagnosed depression, and the last two weeks have pushed me from the "aw crap life sucks" phase to gibbering, eye-clawing despair. Nothing particularly disastrous has occured, indeed there's some good news to be found if you look hard. But, as it happened three years and three months ago, I've come to the end of my rope. I can no longer suck it up and keep buggering on. After 28 long years, I think it might be fair to think my "suck it up" tanks are at full capacity, and keep buggering on - doing what? Going where?
I've got nothing going for me.
True, roof over head, loving parents, furry animals, count yourself lucky, etc, etc. But I have no useful skills, no recognized talent. My career so far has consisted of dressing up as fictional characters and trying not to scare children. That's right, the only job I've been good at is not being me or anything to do with me. And even then I've managed to screw it up. Even with nepotism my artwork was too crap to be published for free. The handful of strangers who have seen any of my work and been impressed can be counted on the hand of something without a hand. Once I aimed high and failed spectacularly. Now I can't even aim low and get something to show for it. What have I to offer to the world or anyone in it? Apart from a length list entitled "what NOT to do", of course?
I'm just so tired. Too fucking tired.
I've been fighting this uphill battle and it feels like I've just twigged I'm actually on a flat surface. Things are not going to improve. They are not going to get better. There is no happy ending to be found. And a significant volume of people I know seem much happier when I have no part in their lives - and quite right, too. What is there to go on for? A few TV shows and books? Getting another year older and having nothing to show for it, not even contentedness? They say there are only three goals in life - power, material possession and spiritual enlightment. I'm fucked on all three. I genuinely cannot believe the world had in any way been improved by me living in it, and it'll take a brighter mind than mine to spot a future that can be any better with me as part of it.
You know, once I went for a job interview and I did a questionaire that showed I had surprisingly low self-confidence and esteem. So they told me that. And that I handn't got the job. And, hell, I was almost relieved, preferring the existentialist rut of unemployed stasis to working for a living. I'm trapped by my own personality flaws, unable and unwilling to break free. Because, to be honest, what is the point in doing either? I'm tired and useless and alone, entirely by my own fault. I can't ask for pity or sympathy, and fuck knows I would be hard pressed to find anyone willing to provide it.
I've wasted my life, yet I'm not sure it could have been used anyway.
The cracks are spreading. The life goals conversations, the "what do you want to do with your life?" questions are striking again and again. I have no answer. I just want to stop this hurting, but there's no escape left. I can't parody a BF story, write a YOA script or even make a shitty youtube video to put up on the blog. My efforts come to naught. The feeble illusions I have of achievement can't distract me from the truth.
I shouldn't have rung for that ambulance.
I don't know what death is like, but I know what it feels to lose consciousness from blood loss. Imagine your thoughts, your mind, are beads on an abacus gradually getting further and further apart. No pain or doubt or frustration, because consciousness is spread too thin. And I have reached the point I am craving that peaceful oblivion more and more. Every hour awake feels like torture in comparison.
Yeah, maybe I'm turning into a self-pitying emo who should cowboy the fuck up. But I can't - I don't have the strength to even try.
I'm running on empty. I have reached the end of my wit's tether.
The pros column is empty and the cons column needs extra paper.
I don't want to hurt any more, I'm not strong enough to bear the pain.
And, I dunno. Maybe a good night's sleep and some proper food might make me fit and dandy, but I doubt it. Giving $200 to a homeless scrounger gave me no pleasure, no smug sense of righteousness, it didn't even make me feel any less guilty. I don't feel like I've made the world a better place. And I don't think saying no to him would have helped either. I can't do anything right, and I can't stop the hurt.
Stop the world. I want to get off.
So sorry for the inconvenience.
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9 comments:
Please don't. You've written such clever and hilarious stuff on your blogs-the novelisation of 'The End of Time' that actually made the story coherent, the whole of the BF Alternative Guide, all those insightful and cutting reviews...they're fresh and original and unique and not quite like anybody else.
I know you're probably in too much pain to care about this, because I've been there myself and it hurts, but something marvellous would go out of the world if you die and people would care. You've created wonderful pieces here and it would be very sad if you weren't here to do them any more.
Just...be as brave as you can, whatever you decide. And all the good luck in the world.
...forgive the confrontational imperative,b but I feel like asking "who the hell are you and why didn't you comment or acknowledge sooner?"
Cunningly, I have drunk myself into a stupor where any kind of suicidal activity is up there with asking Margaret Thatcher to stop decomposing (oh, am I topical or what? Booyakasha!)
So, I remain on this mortal coil. And whle your argument may be valid, if people actually acknowledged my work and wellbeing, well, maybe I wouldn't be teetering on the edge of the abyss which I am currently teetering of the edge of anyway.
Thanks for the kind words, they would have helped sooner.
Don't eat the beef.
Actually, that above comes across as ruder and blunter than I thought I was being. Much appreciate your sympathy and understanding, even so.
Good move with the stupor thing. Under the circumstances, it sounds like the smartest thing you could have done.
As for your question...because I was pretty emotionally crippled for a long time and so incredibly shy that the idea of even posting comments online and saying nice things to people I respected was utterly beyond my capacity. It's only been fairly recently that I've started venturing out more both in espace and in public. I actually had to create a Gmail account to say this because I've never commented on any blogger's writings before.
So A. the world includes people who are far, far more socially inept than you, if it helps to hear that, and B. it didn't always help me much hearing about the experiences of other people, but if a suicidal social recluse too scared to even post Internet comments can get to the point of being relatively contented with life, maybe there's hope for you too?
(actually, in that mood hope was a four-letter word that seemed to bear no relevance to my actual life. It helped far more to take T. H. White's advice and throw myself into learning new things; I ended up doing an Alfred Hitchcock marathon and researching Final Fantasy games, even though I don't own a games console and don't have any interest in one. Absorbing myself in what was to me a value-neutral fandom was a way to get my mind off the ceaseless track of self-hatred and frustration. Directing my attention into something complex enough to hold my attention and simple enough to be understood even at the lowest ebb of my capacity to understand.
You'd probably want to do something completely different of course, but breaking the cycle of recrimination made a great deal of difference, looking back on it. It helps with the whole perspective thing, and that's when the healing starts.)
But yeah, you're totally within your rights to be perplexed about a random Internet stranger appearing out of the blue, so I don't mind the bluntness.
Good move with the stupor thing. Under the circumstances, it sounds like the smartest thing you could have done.
Never let it be said I have forgotten my Irish heritage.
As for your question...because I was pretty emotionally crippled for a long time and so incredibly shy that the idea of even posting comments online and saying nice things to people I respected was utterly beyond my capacity.
Whoa. Bummer. You couldn't even tick the "anonymous" option?
I actually had to create a Gmail account to say this because I've never commented on any blogger's writings before.
So... you were just passing, or what?
maybe there's hope for you too?
Maybe. At the end of the day, it's the lack of hope that's been killing me...
But yeah, you're totally within your rights to be perplexed about a random Internet stranger appearing out of the blue, so I don't mind the bluntness.
OK.
Um. Enjoy your visit. Feel free to watch the movies and enjoy the links... and keep in touch. Erudite bloggers like yourself are a minority group these days.
I'd care. I'd always care.
I know people would care.
But sometimes I feel that's just some kind of cycle of emotional abuse - you know, 'love me or I cut myself and it'll be your fault' sort of blackmail.
Anyway, I'll be on facebook.
In the meantime, staying up late watching family guy with a bottle of cheap red wine and poorly-made salad sandwiches has given me the strength to get through today, at least...
That last bit probably isn't sound medical advice. Just saying.
As for your question...because I was pretty emotionally crippled for a long time and so incredibly shy that the idea of even posting comments online and saying nice things to people I respected was utterly beyond my capacity.
Whoa. Bummer. You couldn't even tick the "anonymous" option?
Nope. It was that severe.
I'm still kind of amazed I've gotten out of that slough, because at the time it did seem like it was going to be like that forever. It didn't, though.
I actually had to create a Gmail account to say this because I've never commented on any blogger's writings before.
So... you were just passing, or what?
I keep an RSS reader of my favourite newssites and blogs; in between commentary on the latest Test Match and John Crowley musing about Nabokov being interviewed by "People", I saw there was a new entry for yours and promptly clicked on it, figuring this would be a disgusted comment on the latest DW finale (you're funnier and more coherent than Steven Moffat as showrunner, that's all I've got to say about that). Then I saw what it was and started writing up that comment as fast as I could.
maybe there's hope for you too?
Maybe. At the end of the day, it's the lack of hope that's been killing me...
But yeah, you're totally within your rights to be perplexed about a random Internet stranger appearing out of the blue, so I don't mind the bluntness.
OK.
Um. Enjoy your visit. Feel free to watch the movies and enjoy the links... and keep in touch. Erudite bloggers like yourself are a minority group these days.
Thanks. Will do.
As for your question...because I was pretty emotionally crippled for a long time and so incredibly shy that the idea of even posting comments online and saying nice things to people I respected was utterly beyond my capacity.
Whoa. Bummer. You couldn't even tick the "anonymous" option?
Nope. It was that severe.
I'm still kind of amazed I've gotten out of that slough, because at the time it did seem like it was going to be like that forever. It didn't, though.
I actually had to create a Gmail account to say this because I've never commented on any blogger's writings before.
So... you were just passing, or what?
I keep an RSS reader of my favourite newssites and blogs; in between commentary on the latest Test Match and John Crowley musing about Nabokov being interviewed by "People", I saw there was a new entry for yours and promptly clicked on it, figuring this would be a disgusted comment on the latest DW finale (you're funnier and more coherent than Steven Moffat as showrunner, that's all I've got to say about that). Then I saw what it was and started writing up that comment as fast as I could.
maybe there's hope for you too?
Maybe. At the end of the day, it's the lack of hope that's been killing me...
But yeah, you're totally within your rights to be perplexed about a random Internet stranger appearing out of the blue, so I don't mind the bluntness.
OK.
Um. Enjoy your visit. Feel free to watch the movies and enjoy the links... and keep in touch. Erudite bloggers like yourself are a minority group these days.
Thanks. Will do.
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