"When I reassure you that I'm fine, don't believe me. I just don't want you to be burdened by my problems. The smile you see me give you is a lie. I am
not fine!"
It's either the exams, her or my OCD, but I'm feeling totally depressed. Nothing I do is right, for the first time I'm beating myself up for every small mistake I'm doing, I'm turning into a pessimist and I'm even having suicidal thoughts. If it wasn't for a few of the people that care (namely Mark, Tom, Farah, Ming Yi, Razleen and Marinah) I'd be acting on them. It's pathetic that three of them are imaginary. At least my daily therapeutic dose of crying helps me somewhat. Okay, maybe not daily, but still, every few days.
My emotional state of mind is all messed up. I feel like slugging my best friend and helping people that hurt me. This blog might end up becoming an emo blog, so if that happens, I'm so very sorry. I never wanted it to be that way. If it's one thing I never ever want to be called, it's "emo". My niceness is because I want to give what I never got. Unconditional love. My parents only want me to get good grades so that they have bragging rights. They only want me to get a good job so that I can give them more cash.
Depression is getting much much worse these days. I could blame my exams, because I'm pretty sure I failed everything except Math, Science and English. Ironic, the only subjects that I didn't study for are the ones I'm pretty sure I'll pass. Yet another oxymoron of my pitiful and miserable life. I guess the best oxymoron for me would have to be "Happy Depression". Yeah, that would probably be the best one of all. Or maybe "Depressed Happiness". Yeah, that'll do as well.
OCD is acting up even worse. I'm forcing my sisters to hit me evenly when they playfully hit them. I'm making messes just so that I can clean them up. When I go near the refridgerators in my house I'm opening them up all the time, to check if there's food in it. The depression that comes with OCD is becoming even worse. I can't even be around people. I'll still feel depressed. It used to be so simple, to control this. Depression was usually when I was alone, and I didn't make messes just so I could clean them. I didn't force my sisters do hit me evenly, because I often got them to do it later. I can usually last a few hours. Not anymore.
Suicidal thoughts are a regular occurrence now. I'm fighting against them, but I fear it's a losing battle. My only barriers against them are only Mark and Tom, but they're imaginary, so I don't know how long until time's run out. Everyone just sympathizes, but none really care. I might not be here long, and I hope God forgives me for whatever I may do to myself in the next few hours, days, weeks, months and years. If I die before my next post is published, read "Perceptions Of Stuff and Whatnot". It's on my links. I've already told her to do this. If I don't do a new post after a month, you should then go to it.
It doesn't help that she's treating me like garbage. It doesn't matter if that's only what it seems like or if it's just me interpreting it wrong. It's not as if it'll help. Pathetic of me, not being able to swear, even in this kind of state. Noble, pathetic... It's still the same difference. I'm in love with her (yes, I'm breaking my earlier promise to not talk about her anymore), and the more she treats me like this the more I love her. The more I try to hate her the more I fall deeper in love. No matter what I say or do to her, no matter what she does to me, I'll still forget my self worth and keep on loving her. My heart and head say I deserve better, but my soul disagrees. She's probably the best there is for me, since we have so much in common, and that's what hurts even more. The one that's most likely my soulmate is the one that makes me feel like a carcass on the road side, hit by a car. Feeling like an invisible bug that's about to be squashed. In other words, pure torture coupled with total helplessness.
Friends are nonexistant nowadays. Even my neighbour is no longer close with me. The closest thing I have to a friend are my imaginary friends. Once again, they are mentioned. I listen to everyone's problems, I'm always the "rock" they need to bring them down to the ground. The one to reassure them that everything is fine. But who is there to listen to me? None take the time to actually sit down and just listen. They always attempt to give solutions. This is the reason why I don't talk about myself. You see me smiling on the outside, but I am actually dying on the inside. I need someone to be my "Satellite Sibling" for my problems, someone I can talk to and trust no matter what. Someone who'll just listen to my problems no matter how bad they have it themselves. Someone who won't sympathize, someone who won't advice. Someone who listens.
Inspiration is finally gone. No more poems can be written. All my dreams are semi-lucid, just like reality. I know that it's bad, but I can't do anything to change it. The smile you see plastered on my face is fake for a reason. I have nothing to smile about. You see me laughing because I'm trying to convince myself that I'm okay, that everything is fine. But I know deep down that's it's not. It's not even that deep. I am driven by this desire to fit in, to be accepted, to be cared about. I always fail at this, because I have no idea how to do it.
If only life came with an instruction manual, because I'm sure I'm doing it all wrong. So what else is new? I do that all the time. Something wrong, that is. I've tried drugs before. The high was amazing, but the headaches hurt too much. But now, will all of these problems, I feel like taking my inhaler and getting high once again. Not much of a solution, but it'll do. At least this way I have a few minutes of bliss, of detachment from my troubles and society. I'm fighting a losing battle with myself to stop from doing bad things.
I'm sick of being the nice guy, where I'm always being used, taken for granted. I can't tell my friends from opportunists. Once again, I'm being hypocritical, also using and manipulating others. But that's how I live, and I don't know what else to do. No one wants to help, and whenever I hint or say that I need help, I am suddenly alone. Alone, by myself, with no one to turn to, no one to trust. I want to be the jerk, but I just don't have the heart to do it, to be one. My mouth says one thing, my actions another.
My so called friends have left me, and I'm in the desert of depression, all by myself with no water of hope nor do I have protection from the burning heat of the Sun of pessimism. My friends who have the shade of optimism have all left to the city of happiness, and the airport of safety is nowhere in sight. Because of this, I keep seeing fake hope mirages thinking I can get a free lift to the town of salvation, but no, once again my hopes are dashed. The vultures of suicide are hovering above me, waiting for me to mess up and embrace them.
Needed metaphors to cope with my problems, but making unwanted problems for people trying to help. Praying works a bit. Whenever I'm in prayer, I feel refreshed, happy and the space in my stomach where the depression is disappears. But as soon as I'm done praying I'm back to square one, feeling depressed all over again.
Funny things are hard to laugh at, and I'm now laughing at the things that aren't funny. Examples of this are when I laugh at death. When I laugh at destruction. Misery isn't spared. I'm probably a sadist that loves misery. Maybe that's why my life is all messed up. Things are no longer cool, I find the people that I love and care about (friends, family, etc.) are now boring, people not worth fighting for.
One of the ways that I wish I died was in combat, but I keep seeing myself killed by being hit by a car. Maybe that way it wouldn't hurt so much that way. I keep thinking on whether I'd go to Heaven or Hell when I die. I keep thinking about wanting to go to Heaven but wondering how Hell would be like.
The only good thing from this depression is that I'm thinking more about life, being even more philosophical. Trying to solve life's problems, thinking that I have what it takes to do it. I know that I don't, but the tiny hope that I can do it keeps me going. That's the only thing. Yes, I know that I'm selfish, because when I die everyone that really cares about me will lose a bit of them inside, but I don't care. It's how I feel. Does this qualify as a call for help? I neither know nor do I care. All I know is that Death is calling me, closer and closer it's voice is everyday. One day it will be here and I won't have time to repent, I won't have time to do all the good things I wanted to. The time of "What if's" and regrets will happen, on my last seconds of life. I wonder what my last thoughts would be on my last few seconds. I fear and feel grateful happy that I might not live past my 20's. I don't care about age. I want to go to Heaven as soon as possible. Heck, I might end up being a martyr.
Every day I am presented with a new problem, and solutions never appear. No matter how trivial or how huge, I don't think I can carry the weight of all of these problems. Little by little, these small problems end up becoming huge and unbearable to lift, let alone carry. I hope with what little hope I have left that I never live that long, or that maybe I get solutions to my problems.
I love going to school, not because I love studying. Maybe I do like it, but I go to school to be around people I can talk to. I might not be able to get less problems, or more solutions, but at home I can't talk to anyone. My parents? They just criticize my every move and actions. They tell me to become an adult, to become a man, but they treat me like a child. My sisters don't listen, they talk. They can't understand what I'm going through. My brother? He's too young. I don't want to stress him out at a young age. If I had to choose one person in my family that I love, it would be my brother. One of the reasons why I'm still alive is because I don't think he'd be okay if I died. But once he's independent, then it'd be one less thing that's holding me back from taking life-threatening risks.
Music, the one thing I normally go to to be "healed" is now worth nothing. It justs fill up this empty void of emptiness. Music no longer inspires me, nor does it help me with life. From Sum 41, my favourite band, to dumb singers like Hannah Montana to legends like Busted and to underrated bands like Fountains Of Wayne, I no longer feel content from music. I sing the music to feel like there's someone with me. I feel alone otherwise. It's not like my imaginary friends are there all the time. Then again, they're appearing more and more often. Signs things are going bad in my life?
I keep telling myself to be strong, to keep fighting. But for what? For myself? It's not as if I will be missed much if I was gone. Sure, people will grieve that I was gone. But a few months, maybe a couple of years, I will just be a distant memory to my loved ones. I don't even think my family will still think of me that often. When my paternal (and favourite) grandfather died, my aunts and uncles, and my dad, cried for a few months. Then, everything went back to normal. It was as if he had died for years. I'm expendable, someone that, when gone, won't really be missed.
My mouth says that I trust no one, but my actions keep making me trust everyone, even those that backstabbed and hurt me. Why can't I learn from my mistakes? What am I doing that's so wrong in my life that's making me deserve this? I can't have done something so bad until nothing goes right in life? Nothing may be the wrong word, but still. Very few things goes right. Heck, I can't even get girls to like me "in that way". Trivial, but still important to a guy. Whenever I see my schoolmates, all the jerks, the losers, the, the... The ones that are usually the opposite of good can get a girl "just like that". What does it take? Trivial, but I still stress a lot on this.
I don't care what you think of me when you read this post. I don't mind, because you don't matter. This blog was made specifically for me to put everything on my mind out. Be it sad and emotional, happy go lucky or even sadistic. As long as it's true and from me, it'll be written here.
Food no longer has taste. It all feels the same in my mouth. When I take a bite into it, be it a cookie, chocolate, rice, sandwiches. It doesn't matter what it's made from, what flavour it should have. Bland and tasteless. That's what it all taste like. I guess this is also added to my cause of depression.
In the end, it's not one huge thing that's causing this. It's many many small things, trivial things. They all add up to this one huge massive ball of depression. I guess I'm really emotional right now, because things keep going badly nowadays. Hopefully things will become better, soon. I really hope soon. God, things are being so emo. I keep saying to myself, "phase phase phase, please let it be a phase!".
On a brighter note, I'm listening to some nice music from Fountains Of Wayne. Sense of happiness is coming slowly. Baby steps, people. Wow, I never knew I could ever write so much for one post. This is amazing. Now if only I could type as much about non emotional stuff.
If I'm still here,
Till next time,
~Josh the Joshster~
