Depression. Written by a girl who doesn’t matter.
To say I hate myself would be an understatement. See, I don’t just hate myself. I am disgusted with myself. I am pretty sure I am the most worthless thing on this planet. I am not human you see. Well, you don’t, because nobody besides me sees the truth. I am this worthless filthy thing that dresses like a human, talks like a human, thinks like a human, even looks like one, but I am not. I am me, and I am not sure what that is.
I am useless. I am poison. Literally everything and everyone that comes into contact with me will perish at one point. It might take a week, it might take ten years, but I will poison you.
I am worthless, I cant do anything right and even the things that I might have done at one point, I will screw up completely the next time. You shouldn’t fuss about me, nobody should. But they do, because they don’t believe I am filth, but I am.
You’re nice they say, I don’t understand why because I am not.
You’re cute they say, no I am not.
I love you.. why oh why???? Why would you waste such a feeling on me?
Why would you waste anything on me?
I am a waste of space, time, air.
I don’t want to die, but I do want to be dead. It’s the depression talking, its not you, you do have worth, you are a wonderful person and you have so much to live for.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah BLAH.
If life is so great and I have so much to live for, why don’t you take over my life. See how you like it when you are in debt up until your eyeballs. See how you like living of 20 euro a week because your mother gives you that. Do you know how much food you can buy from 20 a week? Not enough to feed two people, and four animals. Not enough to pay all the bills that keep coming. And then stand next to the person who says that they really wanted that new phone but couldn’t buy it cause it was 700 euro and then were short 10. I want to rip their throats out. With 700 euro I could pay off some bills so the assholes stop coming for another month. But I wont, I don’t even say anything, because its not their fault I am in this position. Its my own. I was the one that didn’t finish college. I was the one that had to let the voices in my head control my actions. I should of just let the knife slit my wrists, but I didn’t want my then roommate to find me.
Get rid of the person living with you for three years and not working? Get rid of the animals?
Cant do that. I love the animals too much. And I need that person to work so I can pay off some debts and actually eat a decent meal more then once a week, and maybe, just maybe, not feel like the biggest loser on this planet. Maybe, just maybe, I can pretend to be the human I once must have been.
Nearly almost certain I once must have been a human.
Must have been something else then this.
I am still a virgin. I will be 29 this year. Pathetic isn’t it. Have never been truly kissed by a man. Have never been truly loved by a man. Will probably never be loved by a good man.
Because what kind of man would want me? Bile rises in my own mouth when I think of myself. I am fat. Disgustingly so. I am ugly, and stupid, with an IQ of 132 last time I checked which was nearly eight years ago, so it must be higher now. I am a good teacher, I can get along with kids and animals. I’ve published a novel, wrote another book, and are now writing my third. I am the most useless, horribly disgusting pretend of a human I have ever seen. I hate myself. I loathe myself. I despise myself.
And all the therapy of the world hasn’t changed that. Medication hasn’t. Talking with friends hasn’t. Writing about it hasn’t. Living with it every day hasn’t.
All I want to do is lay down on my bed and hope my heart stops beating. But it doesn’t, that should probably make me happy, it doesn’t.
Written by a girl who doesn’t matter.