Feeling useless, being useless. Efforts to be out in the world, trying to give back, leave me strained. Drained, feeling insane. Unheard. Alone. I could be screaming and there's not even an echo in all these mountains and valleys, just me floating away into the void. Feeling invisible again, feeling like I want to just stop. Feeling unloveable and incapable of love, so broken inside. Inhuman.
Even when I was a quasi-contributing member of the world I felt a fraud, incompetent. That is my baseline. I'm venting, I could just say this out loud yet I think I write it down so I can look back and find evidence that I do exist, that I'm not a figment of my own imagination. Just hurting, raw, sometimes seeems unbearable yet I trudge on, I hope there's a point to this.
Post from 2011 - Who am I if I'm not suicidal? What is life like? Where am I uncomfortable because I'm not suicidal? It feels anxiously flat, a nervous nothingness So I feel ...
6 months ago