Babies, I feel hopelessness most of the time. I am so far under, I am usually sure I’ll never make it back to the surface. Any period of time I don’t feel this way is due to distraction.
I don’t blame the world, or circumstances, or luck, or the devil, I blame myself. Things are bad because of me and things will stay bad because of me, I think.
I’m not mentally ill in the sense you might have been told. I’ve just learned to think the wrong way and now I don’t think it’s worth learning to think in a better way.
I’ve spent a lot of time convincing myself that life doesn’t matter and then recently a really powerful argument was made to me, one I’ve thought of before, but it made an impact this time: If when you’re dead, you’re gone, then how can you regret having killed yourself?
A counter argument: But if you’re in pain now and when you die you’re gone then how will you experience relief?
But, we’re all going to die… it’s just a matter of when.
Compounding my problem are thoughts of worthlessness. I don’t feel I can produce and if I consume more than I produce then things will always get worse and it makes sense to just stop consuming. Not being around would be an outright public service.
A friend of mine is considering suicide. I couldn’t say anything constructive because any argument for life, from me, would be disingenuous. Heck, I’d just be regurgitating things other people say, not things I feel.
I did say that I would miss this person.
The frustrating thing for me is that I have a skill which is most likely to make an individual entrepreneur good money with little or no investment except labor. I don’t need teams of people, I don’t need to build physical objects, I don’t need to convince a publisher to market a book.
I don’t do anything.
I won’t kill myself either.
I’m just being dramatic. ๐
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