Concentration has always been a problem for me for as long as I can remember. Even before I was a teenager. I have problems in school and had to work so hard to keep up. Back then I had more energy even though I felt totally stressed out most of the time. I tried so many things to ease the pain, but nothing worked. Exercise, relaxation, meditation, then eventually alchohol and drugs which just made things worse. By that time though things had happened that had hurt me so deeply that I didn’t care anymore. Perhaps I am still there, but I don’t know how to get out.

I don’t think it is necessary to die to give up. There are some things that are going well for me, but it seems they are only prolonging the inevitable. I still have nowhere to stay. My own mistake. My life is the way it is because I have made certain ill-fated decisions. All from frustration, anger, and eventually giving up. It seems to me that most of my life has been like that. I just don’t seem to have to desire to live. Why, I don’t know. No matter what I do it seems so trivial. I don’t understand. I wish I did because I hate my life the way it is. Sure I have used drugs in the past, but I have no desire even to use them. I could care less about drugs right now or most of the time. They are just an escape from this what seems to me such a dull life. I see others suffering, but in my own experience I have become accustomed to an empty life. No one believes me when I say I have no desire, not laziness, just a lack of interest most of the time in everything. I sleep because I am tired, I eat because I am hungry, I wake up because I can’t sleep anymore. Like Pavlov’s dog I am drawn by basic needs. His dog was never rewarded with a house, or car. Sometimes though, even eating is something that doesn’t cross my mind. My music is a product of how I feel, not the other way around. I know because of certain experiments I have conducted on myself. I do not like feeling like this and I have tried to change it, but it always falls apart eventually. Perhaps being a creature of habit has jaded me in a way that now I expect things to go wrong because they always have in the past. There does seem to be one escape for me however, I can read. It takes me away for awhile, but as soon as I put it down the thoughts and feelings come back again. Feelings of hopelessness, despair, loneliness. I have a hard time thinking that I am not alone. I know there are others who suffer too, but in the dead of night there is no one around and I must face these things by myself. I don’t expect anything. The only reason I write this is to see if there is anyone who feels the same or might know something I don’t. I feel like I am doomed to a life of failure. I may be physically healthy, but I feel sick in every other way. Sometimes I don’t even understand what I am saying or thinking. Just confusion. So I keep my mouth shut. Maybe that’s what I should have done here. I think so.

1 Comment
  1. herefornow 12 years ago

    I am sorry to say that, no, it didn’t help talking about it. The problem is that no matter what action I take it doesn’t help. I am just digging my grave. At least, that’s the way it feels. I am taking med’s, but they aren’t helping and the situation doesn’t help any. I have started on some new med’s, but without an address I have no insurance. So I don’t know how long this will last. Yes, I do have a place to stay right now, but not for long. Some may not believe that, but it’s true. There is nothing I can do. I can’t go to any shelters because of my situation. There are people there that I would rather avoid. If I did see them, things would definitely get worse. If I ever do go it would mean that I have definitely given up.

    Even if I do not choose to live upto others standards, there are things which still have an effect on me. Not having an address and not getting any real help, just a lot of words and more words. I am talking about professionals. Even the ones I do respect can’t do much for me.

    I can live on my own for the most part, but as I said before it always falls apart so I am not fit for a group home. I cannot get emergency shelter because I am a man ( This is what I was told). My choices are shelter or street. The shelters are not safe for me. I rarely see people who "shine" or are good people. I can count them with my limbs those people who really seem to care. I am not saying there aren’t more. I just haven’t met them. On the other hand I can’t count the number of people who have tried to knock me down. It seems though they might have succeeded this time.

    It’s not over yet. Approximately one more week to go. I am still here, but I don’t want to be. I don’t know how many times I have felt like this, but I would say the other times were premature compared to this one. The hole just gets deeper and deeper and I wish it would just STOP.

    If I have hurt anyone in saying what I have, it is not my intention. I am just talking about how I feel and the situation I seem to have put myself in.

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