My name is Javi. I’m 26. I’m considering killing myself.
I think I was born wrong.
Something got fucked up in the process.
Everyone else was born with something they could give to the world and to others. Maybe they grew up to be good looking. Charming. Smart. Caring. A good thinker, a good friend.
I don’t think there’s any value to anything I have to give. My brain is a puddle of shit. Nothing productive happens there. I just think and think until I have gotten lost in a rabbit-hole because I’ve deconstructed something to the extreme. “That tone in my friend’s voice last night – why did they have that tone? Maybe I annoyed them. Maybe I was boring. Maybe I was depressing. Maybe I should go away…I’m a burden.”
“I’m so fucked up.”
I think. I analyze. I search for meaning. All of this is so totally separated from reality. There’s nothing in me that I can do for others. I can solve no problems. I can get rid of no suffering, no injustice. I can’t do anything.
I feel and feel and feel. But what does that do for anyone? I can’t do anything for anyone. I am locked inside myself. I see distress and agony in others. I see confusion, sadness, uncertainty. Anger. Resentment. Grief. I can’t do anything. I cannot alleviate this in others. I cannot get to the source of those things and pull it up by its roots. There is always going to be alienation. Disconnection. Prejudice, hatred, ridicule. Loneliness. We are always going to be alone. We are always going to be at war, both with each other and with ourselves.
I’m useless. I can’t even emote anymore. I am a ghost in my own body. I cannot feel joy. I cannot feel love. I wear these things on my face in order not to alienate the few friends I have. I am a liar. I’m a fraud. I feel like a psychopath. I’m a monster. I’m ugly. I hurt the ones I love. I cannot do anything but hurt the ones I love, waste their time, burden them. I cannot do anything right.
I look in the mirror, or catch myself in a photograph, and I want to puke. I want to punch in the face of the fuck-up I see.
I just eat and drink and sleep and stare into the distance. I just go to work like a zombie, and I’m at work like a zombie, and I come home like a zombie.
I thought I knew what anxiety and depression and suicidal thoughts were like. I felt them before; in the interim between the deep black holes of my life I thought I could handle this again when it arrived again.
I feel like I was wrong.
I’ve given up trying to understand if this time is worse than the other times before. I just know, that I keep treading water with so much fatigue, such burning pain in my lungs and brain, and I keep swallowing water, always getting closer to sinking. I don’t how much longer I can hold on.
I feel so far away from everyone.
I need others in my life. There is no meaning, no intimacy or love, in my relationships. I am furtive, frightened, deeply estranged from my friends, from my family.
How long have I felt this way? I think it’s been coming for a long time. I have been so afraid. And it has arrived. The worst thing in the world has arrived once again.
I hate myself.
I don’t want to be myself.
I want to leave. I want to sleep. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to feel anything anymore.
I am so empty.
So worthless. I’m no one. I’m nothing.
I can’t do anything for anyone. Even what I thought might be the one thing I’m good at, making other people feel better or supported, I don’t think I can do anymore. Now I don’t know anything.
I think if I disappeared it wouldn’t even matter. No one would even notice.
I cannot sleep. I cannot rest. I cannot relax. I cannot stop thinking.
I just want all of this to stop, once and for all.