I\'m feeling incredibly poorly lately. I\'ve come here repeatedly in the past to vent and go over what\'s bothering me, but have never stayed long since response is so little even in a community dedicated to mental health, but it\'s the same everywhere, not just here. I genuinely feel by now that I could post that I\'m going to kill myself and nobody would even notice. I\'m almost certain of it, in fact.
I\'m supposed…well, I WAS supposed to see a psychologist once every two weeks, for around an hour, though they\'re usually late getting me in and I have so much inside me to pour out that I just have nobody else to tell that I would often make her run late too, which makes me feel awful. That\'s in theory; in practice, I get cancelled on a lot and surprise-rescheduled because they\'re understaffed and overbooked; I\'ve learned the hard way to call ahead to verify that my appointment is still on, because there have been times I\'ve shown up only to learn that no, I\'ve been cancelled on, didn\'t I get the letter? This isn\'t foolproof though, once I was literally there sitting in the waiting room when some guy came in and asked to talk with my psychologist so I was cancelled on right there. Another time, two times in a row they messed up my appointments and I wasn\'t able to see her either time. So it\'s more like once every 3-4 weeks I get to see her. This last time I saw her, I think it had been over a month. This stuff happens. I\'ve gone over twenty years without anyone to really talk to so it\'s not like we\'ve been able to even scratch the surface anyway in our 45 minutes every 2-4 weeks.
I was supposed to have something called case management to help get me to my appointments since I don\'t drive. In theory the case manager was also supposed to do stuff like get me out of the house, take me on outings to build my self-confidence, etc., but in actuality it doesn\'t work that way. Taking me on an outing because it\'s part of your job does not make me feel less anxious; it makes me feel worse. I don\'t WANT to go on an outing with somebody because it\'s their job, I want to go on an outing with somebody who actually wants to go on an outing with me. So why case management and the psychologist and psychiatrist and nurse kept urging me to take them up on this offer is beyond me, especially considering that case management is often so overbooked they couldn\'t even get me rides, when that was the whole point of me getting them! What\'s more, my first case manager moved on from the mental health clinic not long after taking me on and to me, somebody who\'s been left behind and dropped by just about everybody there is, that was just verification of all my fears and worries, to be dropped yet again. (My previous psychologist at this place ended our therapy with an ultimatum–"I\'ll leave it up to you whether you want to continue therapy. If I haven\'t heard from you by Christmas, I\'ll close your case." Imagine a person with terrible social anxiety–trust me, probably the worst case of it you can imagine–being told this, and then understand why that was so awful to hear.) So I was glad I never got to go on more than one outing with her, and a lousy one at that, since I saw it as an immense waste of time and resources to walk around "window shopping" when I hate window shopping and felt terribly anxious and guilty the entire time; she kept asking me what I wanted to do and I just kept saying, "Whatever you want to do," since I really didn\'t even want to be there. I hate that I take up so many resources that could be spent on people who actually stand a chance.
And that\'s what led to this. Apparently the people in charge agree. I\'m making no significant progress despite having been in treatment for several years now, and having been put on numerous medications. You\'d think that somebody whose case is so treatment resistant and difficult would warrant more help than usual, but the irony of the mental health system is that the more help you need, the less you\'ll get. I\'m not getting better, so they\'re cutting back my treatment. At the moment that means no more case management (what an immense waste of time that was) and sessions every three weeks, not two. This actually isn\'t that big a difference, since case management was almost always too busy to drive me anywhere anyway, my dad\'s retired now so he can drive me, and with how much I get cancelled on I\'m lucky to see the psychologist every three weeks as it is. But I\'m positive this is just the beginning of the end. I still won\'t make meaningful progress. Then I\'ll just be dropped and left hanging yet again.
This scares me, because aside from one person I\'m in touch with online, and who hasn\'t gotten back to me in over two weeks despite updating things online and me having posted a despondent journal entry she should be able to see, I have no support system. None. I have my parents, but I can\'t talk to them about things that concern me, and they don\'t understand why I even cry so much; it irritates and angers them when I cry, so I make sure to do it in my room at night when they can\'t see. They have no idea just how much I\'m hurting; believe me, I\'ve tried to tell them, they just get frustrated and demand to know what I want them to do about it. They don\'t understand why their company and the company of my pet cat isn\'t enough for me. I can\'t tell them that every day I wish I just wouldn\'t wake up in the morning, that every day I wish I was dead, that I\'d never been born, because they think I\'m just exaggerating or being dramatic. They\'ve seen the bruises I give myself or else make worse and tell me that it\'s stupid that I do that; it doesn\'t occur to them to wonder why somebody would want to hurt themselves. It doesn\'t occur to them to think that I actually HATE being so lonely and useless; I really do think they believe I just want to be this way. The truth is, I have no other way to be. There\'s nobody out there who needs or wants me as a friend. There\'s nobody who cares about my work or what I do. I know because I\'ve been trying for over twenty years, online and off. And there\'s just nobody.
The psychologist thought it\'d be good to try to set me up with somebody with like interests. She tried this twice, both times with a different person who both said they\'d LOVE to get in touch with me, sure, sure! I never heard back from either of them. Oh. Turns out they were either too busy or "didn\'t feel comfortable" communicating one on one after all. So why did they tell her sure, they\'d love to get in touch? These were people who KNEW I have terrible anxiety and depression and should have known how much this rejection would hurt. To top it off, the psychologist couldn\'t understand why I was so upset afterward!
The first woman gave her her phone number, but I told the psychologist I\'m terrified of phones, so the lady gave her her e-mail address. I e-mailed her twice with no response. Felt terribly stupid. Told the psychologist–I\'ll abbreviate her as J. from now on–and she got in touch with the lady and learned she\'d been very busy but she\'d still like to hear from me. So…why didn\'t she reply to either of the two e-mails I\'d sent her? I sent her a third one anyway, the very day after J. told me she\'d still like to hear from me. And never heard back. J. insisted she\'s just got so much going on with her life that this makes sense, but if that\'s so, she shouldn\'t have agreed to get in touch not only once but TWICE.
The second was even worse. It made me feel sick but I agreed to meet her in person after a group session she attended (I\'m not in the depression group, and after these experiences–BOTH these women belong to that group–I never will be, because I can\'t bear to be around them now). We chatted a bit with J. there. It was nice; I liked to talk about something I was actually interested in. But then they both pressured me into agreeing to attend a particular meeting this woman was going to (the other woman went to the same meetings, so that was yet more anxiety for me); I really DID NOT want to, but agreed, if only so they couldn\'t say I didn\'t try. The lady was to call me later that night to let me know when and where and to pick me up. I sat by the phone the whole afternoon even though I\'d learned I couldn\'t go after all due to another appointment, but I was going to try to ask if she\'d like to do something else sometime. All this, and phones make me shake with fear, but I waited. And she never called. J. told me something had come up and she couldn\'t go to the meeting, but if that was so, then why did she NEVER bother calling me, period? Later on J. even told me this lady had asked her how I was doing! She had my number and name, why didn\'t she ask me herself? I expressed my confusion to J., who thought that I\'d shot this woman down too quickly…that was what she said right after the lady left after we met, I\'d murmured miserably that I felt she wasn\'t interested in being friends with me, and J. said she thought I was shooting her down too quickly. Well guess what…when J. asked her what was up, she bowed out by saying she didn\'t feel comfortable being in touch one on one, so that was that. I still don\'t understand why she agreed to meet and befriend me in the first place. And why when SHE wasn\'t able to step out of her comfort zone it was warranted, but if I were to have done the same stuff these two did, I\'d have been accused of not trying hard enough. It was all I could take not to shove this all in J.\'s face and yell, "SEE?? I TRIED and THEY dropped the ball!" I told her this more courteously. I\'m still not sure if she got it. She\'s a good person, which is why this hurts so much, because I have nobody else to talk to. But I hate that she might think I\'m not trying and can\'t see that I\'ve been trying all along. With these two women, I don\'t understand how she couldn\'t see I did all the work and went out of my way and they were the ones who failed me, not vice-versa.
She suggested that I expect too much. What I expected was these people to mean it when they offered me friendship. Since when is that too much? I\'m willing to go to the ends of the Earth for a real friend. Nobody\'s willing to do that for me. I can\'t count the times I\'ve gone out of my way for somebody and got absolutely nothing in return, not even a thank you. I really don\'t think it\'s expecting too much for people to mean their word, but that\'s what everyone\'s been accusing me of all along, expecting too much. I don\'t know when promising something stopped meaning anything. Or why if I were to do the same thing, I wouldn\'t have any excuse to get away with it.
So I know already that trying to befriend even people with like interests won\'t work.
I\'ve tried penpal sites and writing websites and sites dedicated to mental disorders I have and other interest groups and none worked. I was rejected by all of them. Penpals never wrote back; one even royally b*tched me out for daring to feel bad when she carbon-copied an e-mail to me and over a dozen other people and all I did was sadly say I envied how many other friends she had, I felt very insecure and didn\'t want to take up her time…she lambasted me as thinking I\'m the only one who has problems and I can\'t be the most important thing in everyone else\'s life and maybe that\'s why nobody ever writes to me; she even questioned my mental state. In that CC\'ed e-mail she was asking for snail-mail addresses since she no longer had time to write online (maybe if she dropped a few she\'d actually have time?). Last I knew, she was posting more ads asking for more e-mail penpals. That makes me wonder just how fulfilling her plethora of e-pals really is and why I, somebody who was willing to offer genuine friendship, was so quickly shot down in flames.
A girl I was actually kind of close with online for a while but then she stopped writing to me, I tentatively got back in touch and she was so thrilled, she promised to reply to a long e-mail I sent…I waited and waited and waited…she was online posting in her journal about how lonely and bored she was, why wouldn\'t she reply to my mail? I was right there willing to be her friend. I apologized for the length of my letter and she said it was fine, she liked long letters, she\'d get back to me. Never did. When I finally brought it up once more to just end the thing already, her girlfriend butted in and attacked me, making all sorts of misassumptions that proved she had no idea what our friendship had been like, ridiculing me for writing such stupid long e-mails to strangers (I\'d corresponded with this girl for a long time in the past, we read and commented on each other\'s writing, I even saved it for her when her computer crashed!), etc. Not only did this hurt but it was very juvenile for her to let her girlfriend butt in and presume to speak for her about something that wasn\'t even her business. I requested that the girl reply to me herself. She wasn\'t as rude as her girlfriend, but just as hurtful. She\'d had to "drop" a lot of friends and I guess that included me, despite her insisting she was going to reply; she\'d lost all her writing in a computer crash (well, I\'d already rescued it once, I still had it, she could have just contacted me and I\'d have helped her again!); she\'d been raped when she was little (????–if she\'d bothered even skimming my e-mail despite how many months it had been sitting in her inbox, she\'d have seen I sympathized with her about this, though what it had to do with her not replying to me, I still don\'t understand), etc. etc. etc., long story short, she wasn\'t interested in my friendship after all.
Numerous others online who were good friends and then suddenly decided I no longer existed. Including a guy who was my only reader for several years and then without explanation just started ignoring me, despite us frequenting the same website, I\'d see him online and ask to just know why, he never told me; he last sent me a Christmas present years ago as if all was well, I wrote to him to ask why he\'d sent it if we weren\'t in communication anymore, and he never told me that either. I sent it back to him. Last I knew he was still on that website; I could see him online all the time. I put him on ignore, it hurt so much to see him there and never know why he decided I just no longer existed. Also including the best friend I ever had in real life, the only person who ever really cared about my writing, but lost touch with a decade ago; she found me on Facebook. I was filled with dread getting back in touch but did so. We were in touch long enough for me to hint how poorly I\'ve been doing (i. e., I could really use her friendship), for her to tell me how well she\'d been doing, and then say, well, she was so busy she didn\'t have time to keep in touch with an old friend, goodbye. I saw her playing games on Facebook every day. I put her on ignore as well. Including a girl I befriended online, who was my only reader for a long while, who was always moaning about how lonely she was, though I tried to always be there and be encouraging to her; we finally snail-mailed, despite her story about her real-life circumstances almost certainly being a lie; she never replied to me; I brought it up, she said oh, it must\'ve gotten lost in the mail; but she never bothered replying anyway; was "too shy" to communicate via e-mail, via snail mail, via anything I guess, and stopped commenting on my stories. Fell out of touch. She found me on Facebook, too. With her new friends she was really cheerful and chatty with. So much for being so damn lonely. I was always there for her when she claimed she had no one. She found me there and claimed she missed reading my writing–well, it was still online! But no, she didn\'t have the time or interest I guess to keep in touch even on Facebook. I ended up deleting my friends list and leaving the site. I still get friend requests despite a message on my page saying to e-mail me since I don\'t log in anymore; there are never any personal messages in the requests. It\'s the same on another "social"-networking site I belong to, friend requests up the wazoo, no personalization and nobody even bothers looking at my PROFILE to see where I say I don\'t do friend requests, just get in touch personally if you want. I don\'t understand the point of these sites if people don\'t actually socialize. Where\'s all the socializing?
In any case, a week or so ago this girl actually returned to the site where my story is located and commented blandly on the last two chapters I\'d posted before losing heart in writing the story since she\'d lost interest in reading it–that\'s right, I\'d stopped work on it because I no longer had her support or interest. She missed this story, she said! She hoped I was still working on it since it had been so long since an update, sideways face :/ . I didn\'t reply to her. If she really can\'t get it then I don\'t want to be in touch. She hasn\'t said anything else. I\'m tired of wasting so much effort on people who will not be there when I need somebody, despite me being there for them.
I didn\'t want to write about all this yet again but it just describes my circumstances. I HAVE tried. Over and over and over! Nobody can claim I haven\'t. I have no friends. And it isn\'t because I haven\'t tried. Either there\'s something fundamentally wrong with me so nobody wants to be friends (if that\'s so, why do they claim they want to, then?), or it\'s just fate, I\'m just not meant to have any.
The one last person I\'m in touch with, I\'ve actually met her in person twice, something horrifically scary for me not only since I haven\'t been in close personal interaction with anyone in decades (the last time I was in semi-regular close contact with people?–1995; the last (and only) time I had a friend who genuinely cared about my work?–1990), but also because I\'ve never met somebody from online either, and always thought it was a bad idea. We had so much fun both times, I couldn\'t believe it. I was hoping maybe she was the ONE person who might mean it when she says she\'s a friend. We\'ve fallen out of touch numerous times, usually due to my delaying writing back, and I hate how often I would end up e-mailing her again to be reassured that she wasn\'t bailing out on me, and she was always friendly and reassured me things were fine. We bought each other gifts and sent each other cards. Wrote longwinded e-mails I no longer feel comfortable sending anyone else (not even her) since everyone hates how I go on, even here. Maybe this is my fault, I took a long time replying to her despite it being the holidays. But I finally wrote. She knows about my anxiety and my delaying is nothing new. It\'s been over two weeks. She\'s been online updating her status at Facebook, something I never recall her doing before. It started to bother me so much I logged back in (though I never wanted to) and tried to change the settings so I wouldn\'t get updates but it didn\'t take for some reason and I got another one not long ago. She\'s apparently at home, not terribly busy, having fun with the family, and has Internet access since she updates, but hasn\'t written back yet. Part of me insists to just BE PATIENT and she\'ll reply like she\'s done every other time, can\'t I have faith in someone just once?–what does she have to do to prove herself?–it\'s so insulting for me to just not trust her by now. But the rest of me, 95% of me, is certain this is it, I\'m never hearing back again. Because it\'s been that way with EVERY OTHER PERSON who insisted they cared and they\'d get back to me. I trusted ALL of them. I was wrong each time. It\'s like I always say. Somebody beats a dog every time it tries to lick their hand, can you blame it for cringing away when you try to pet it in friendship? Why is it so different with me? Why do people find my lack of trust unreasonable? I\'ve been slapped away by every "friendly" hand I tried to take. It\'s just to be expected I can no longer believe anyone when they say they\'ll be my friend, no matter how badly I want them to mean it.
Writing websites? Since I write for fun and not publication, I don\'t belong with such people who are "serious" about their work; I have no right to an educated opinion. I use italics, dream sequences, prologues, flashbacks, speech tags, exclamation marks (they have serious issues with all these and more–one person repeatedly claimed you need no more than a couple of exclamation marks in an entire novel), so I must be a terrible hack; another person on the site sniffed that my experience was "apples and oranges" compared to them and I could write whatever drivel I want, but I obviously didn\'t know enough to be a real writer. (People even picked fights with me when I said I don\'t use books on tape or care for vampire stories!) I left the last writing forum after such comments after having been there for about a year and having posted around 1500 posts (NONE of them in the chatty offtopic forums, either); nobody noticed I was gone. Other writing sites are so juvenile, people with no understanding of grammar or proper writing, a higher-up on the site was constantly posting responses as if he knew what he was talking about, and the other members would fawn all over him, yet every post was filled with typos, and I was surprised to learn he wasn\'t published at all despite touting himself like he\'s some kind of expert. Other people would post completely uninformed and incorrect responses to research questions; one person mistook schizophrenia for antisocial personality disorder and when I, appalled, called him on it, his response was just, oops, he\'d taken an ab psych course and had apparently mixed them up. (I took ab psych too–how anyone could mix up two such completely different disorders, and post a response to a research question without checking facts, is beyond me!) I also noticed that when people asked questions, I would provide an answer, get no response, then somebody would provide the same answer and get profuse thanks…I obviously didn\'t belong there either. I write too well for one group and too poorly for the other. There are no sites for people who believe in writing well but who do it just for the love of writing and really won\'t throw a fit if there are a few excess adverbs. I know; I\'ve looked.
Common-interest sites? I joined an Ojibwa-themed group and was quick to state that if I wasn\'t welcome there, not being native, I would leave. I was reassured I was welcome there. I then made the mistake of saying that I like to write. I guess that was the wrong thing to say. All of a sudden everyone was hostile, like Ojibwa culture is some big huge secret the outsiders can\'t know about. I repeatedly stressed that I wasn\'t there to insult their culture, that I merely wanted to learn more out of my own curiosity; finally I again offered to leave if that was what they wanted. The webmistress insisted I was welcome to stay. Next thing I know, I\'m banned. Another member e-mailed me privately to explain that apparently everyone was getting paranoid and talking with the webmistress behind my back, certain I was there to collect info on them for a book (I\'d said I write fiction, plus, even if I were "collecting info," it was a PUBLIC group, there was nothing secret there, what was the issue??), so I was kicked out without even an explanation; I wouldn\'t have even known if this other person hadn\'t mailed me. I\'d even OFFERED to leave and was told I was welcome to stay! They made the group private after they kicked me out, as if they had some big secret, but then it was public again; I could\'ve been there collecting info on them without them ever knowing, so their reasons for banning me make no sense. I had actually been eager to contribute to the group; I\'d posted a myth I knew, and numerous links in the links section, whereas none of the others did anything but chatter offtopic. When I\'d asked a few questions for information I was given the blandest answer and directed to a children\'s book to learn more; maybe they were threatened when they learned I have practically an entire library of more adult-level reading on the subject? In any case, that was so humiliating I\'m too scared to admit I write Ojibwa-themed fiction to anybody who might actually have some interest in/knowledge of the subject, lest I be offensive for whatever reason. So there goes a potential audience, and there goes any communication with people on a subject I\'m fascinated by. (The two women J. tried to set me up with were into this subject. I wonder if the second felt threatened that I knew, like, two words of Ojibwa; she told J. she felt she didn\'t have anything to offer me, like friendship wasn\'t enough? So much for that, anyway. It really doesn\'t seem like I\'m the one who had problems here.)
Social anxiety and depression sites? Everyone there knows everyone else and everybody already has all the friends and support they need. Nobody needs me. A woman from one once offered to help me apply for SSI and within like two e-mails was snapping at me to stop feeling sorry for myself, get off my a** and get a job; when I tried to bow out, telling her I was sorry I\'d taken up her time, she just had to get in one last snipe that what she said must be true and she\'d struck a sore spot. This from somebody who\'d offered to HELP me. Plus, I just get so sick of all the posts like "Oh, I\'m so lonely! I have only my significant other and a few close friends and my online friends and my support groups and my family and a few coworkers, but aside from that, I\'m so lonely!" At least they HAVE a job, and a significant other, and a family and support and friends and people who care. Once J. and this girl are gone, aside from my parents, and we don\'t see eye to eye on much at all and they don\'t understand why I\'m upset in the least so I can\'t talk to them about anything–I go in my room and cry at night just so they won\'t know–I will have nobody. TRULY nobody. It made me so angry to see people who had so much whining about how lonely they were, they had no idea what true loneliness feels like; I don\'t mean to belittle anyone but I have yet to come across somebody else as anxious as I am when it comes to interacting with others, even that girl I wrote about earlier didn\'t seem nearly as anxious as she claimed, at least, when it came to anyone but me; she\'s sure chatty with all her new friends on Facebook. I can\'t even look my parents in the eye. Even when my mother e-mails me, I\'m often too scared to look. Even when I make a call to the mental health place to see if my appointment is still on, a routine call I\'ve made dozens of times, I want to bury my head in the couch and I feel so awful the rest of the day, I have my mother do it instead. I bought a new bike and rode it down the road all of two times, I felt so stupid being seen in public, I flee into the house when somebody walks down the road, I\'m positive somebody\'s going to kidnap or rape me if I see a strange car parked or a guy walking in my general direction so I stay away from windows and have to sit in particular spots to feel safe in public and have to constantly be on the lookout (my psychiatrist has said twice I act like somebody with PTSD and asked me to ask my parents about potential childhood trauma, but I don\'t know of any, and she never followed through on that line of questioning, I\'m curious but feel too stupid to bring it up); I can\'t even look at myself in a public mirror or count out money or sometimes even eat publicly with others around. I can\'t even talk to an automated system or chat program without freaking out and hanging up or closing the program like it\'s a real person. That\'s how I am. I have yet to come across anyone else like that. Anyone else who doesn\'t already have a plethora of friends, at least.
The long story short, I\'ve tried fitting in at all the places where I should rightly fit in, and I never do. For all my trying, I feel even worse, now that I know I don\'t belong anywhere. I often wish I\'d never bothered trying, at least I wouldn\'t know I\'m not wanted and would think I stood a chance.
You know that once I even (very stupidly) wrote to a few prisoners? Even they weren\'t interested in me for long. Go figure. I was actually sad when my visits to the dentist\'s office to get my teeth extracted and drilled and filled were over, because at least that was a brief bit of companionship with some friendly people. So now you know just how bad it is, when I miss going to get my teeth pulled. Getting six teeth pulled (three at once) and getting four dry sockets and getting the bone on my jaw shaved didn\'t hurt nearly as much as how my heart hurts all the time.
The only meds that ever had any influence on me at all were the SSRIs (Prozac and Lexapro). They didn\'t lift my spirits; they just made me apathetic, they made me stop caring. And they made me put on forty pounds. All the others, the BuSpar and Wellbutrin and Ritalin and Risperdal and something that started with a C and who knows what else, nothing. I fully believe I\'m getting nothing but sugar pills. This doesn\'t even mention my bladder condition, which has made my life 100% more miserable and isn\'t responding at all despite a few years of treatment now. I\'ve put back on some of the weight I lost after going off the SSRIs; if I\'m taking a bunch of sugar pills that makes sense. (The bladder condition?–results of it, I can barely leave the house for long, can\'t go on trips, can\'t sleep a lot of the time, can\'t drink more than a very little bit a day, so I\'m exhausted and lethargic and thirsty all the time. Add that to the rest. This started up when I\'d just begun to feel a LITTLE bit better in therapy. Another sign I\'m not meant to be happy or get better.)
So this is the situation. When J. can no longer see me, which is inevitable, then I have no one. No one left to turn to for support. Even J. and this girl haven\'t been able to offer me all the support I truly need, but I was so happy to get just a little bit, and I can\'t help but feel that soon there won\'t be even that. And when that day comes, I have no more reason to be alive.
I won\'t sit here and post woe-is-me suicide threats to get attention and help because I hate that. I\'m just thinking rationally. I\'m thirty-five years old. (I think…I\'ve stopped keeping track. Each birthday is just a reminder of another year passed just like all the rest, so why keep track.) I live at home with my parents and I have no job skills and no friends and no prospects. And it\'s not because I haven\'t tried. (The reason my treatment goals are so very low–by now the only reasonable goal I can think of for me is to just get used to being alone–it\'s not feasible to make a goal of, say, getting a job or getting out more, because where would I go, and who with?–and the authorities don\'t want you to get treated anymore if you have such low goals.) There\'s just no place for me. I feel that if something serves no purpose to the world, it has no right to exist, and that includes me. Not only do I feel I have no purpose now, I feel I never had one, period. So why was I born? I must be one of life\'s mistakes. I\'ve thought long and hard over why I\'m alive and can\'t find any logical reason. And on the brink of no longer having any support system except my parents, who have to love me just because I\'m their daughter, I really don\'t want to keep fighting for nothing. I can barely wake up in the morning. I don\'t recall my beloved dreams anymore so I can\'t even retreat in sleep. Nobody cares about any of my writing and creations. I don\'t do anything else anyone needs. Nobody even needs my friendship or support; I can\'t count how many times I\'ve come across others as despondent as me, and felt like comforting them, only to notice all the dozens of others who\'ve already done so. I posted an entry much like this in my regular journal a couple of days ago. I know people have read it as it\'s gotten hits. Nobody has said a word about it. Nobody cares that I wish I were dead, that I go to bed praying not to wake up and have to drag myself through yet another day of this and go to bed crying again at night to please not wake up in the morning. Nobody cares.
Without J. and my one online friend I have nothing meaningful left. My dreams and most of my writing have already left me. There\'s nothing else. I\'ve already lost my hope and enthusiasm; I\'m quickly losing any instinct I might have to hold on. It\'s not logical to hold on when you have nothing left to hold on to and no reason to keep drawing things out.
Yet I go and post stuff like this in the dim pathetic hope that somebody will prove me wrong. I ended that other entry with the exact same sentiments. And I just told you, nobody cared. I don\'t know why I insist on hoping maybe somebody will, someday, because in the past twenty-odd years, nobody has cared for long, so why should I believe anymore that someone might? I want to take the hint and just get it over with. I hate that I\'m such a chicken. It isn\'t that I want to DIE, but I just don\'t want to live anymore, and wish I hadn\'t lived, period. I wish I\'d have an aneurysm in my sleep, just to take the burden off me doing it myself.
I really try to tell myself to trust people for once, but what\'s that gotten me in the past? I was crushed every single time. Not exaggerating. EVERY TIME. I don\'t understand how someone is expected to go through life with nobody. Why it is that I still want friends when it\'s so obvious it\'s not ever going to happen. I\'m tired of trying, of wasting my time writing this crap, feeling let down that the only attention I might get is a vapid "I know how you feel" or "Don\'t worry, it\'ll get better" or whatever from somebody who after posting that will promptly forget I exist, feeling crushed that I usually don\'t even get that. Another day has passed and no one has had anything to say about my other entry. I guess I really am invisible, so I don\'t understand why I\'m alive. I really hope when the time comes I can summon up the courage to just get it over with. I wish that time would come along because I don\'t have anything left to look forward to except another day of the same. And soon I won\'t even have a therapist to talk to anymore.
That really seems like life\'s most obvious way of telling me to just give it up already. I just wish I knew why I was given a chance in life in the first place if this was the inevitable outcome and I never stood a chance at all. I feel cheated.