I'm sorry if I'm using this place as an outlet when feeling down. I know I already posted a similar thread.
Usually, I have periodic bouts of happiness.
Periods where I feel better. Like a normal human being. The truth is, they are getting fewer.
The truth is, I have failed at life thus far. If I died, outside my family and work colleagues, I could count on the fingers of one hand how many people would attend. I work through a night-time admin job. I sleep through the day most of the time. In that job, I feel I haven't been giving it my all recently.
My outlet is typically writing stories. I have struggled to motivate myself to so much as put pen to paper recently.
And I realise this is boo hoo hoo. Poor me. It's totally narcissistic and I hate myself more for it.
The past week have made things clear in my mind.
My Aunt died. Surrounded by her partner and son. Her Grandchildren survive her. She lived, albeit with struggles a good life. She did things. All I do is lie in my bed, not even bothering to close the curtains, telling the time of day by the light in the room.
And then there is bigger stuff. I don't want to go into that though.
I won't do anything to myself. But sometimes I wonder.
What's the ******* point?
Usually, I have periodic bouts of happiness.
Periods where I feel better. Like a normal human being. The truth is, they are getting fewer.
The truth is, I have failed at life thus far. If I died, outside my family and work colleagues, I could count on the fingers of one hand how many people would attend. I work through a night-time admin job. I sleep through the day most of the time. In that job, I feel I haven't been giving it my all recently.
My outlet is typically writing stories. I have struggled to motivate myself to so much as put pen to paper recently.
And I realise this is boo hoo hoo. Poor me. It's totally narcissistic and I hate myself more for it.
The past week have made things clear in my mind.
My Aunt died. Surrounded by her partner and son. Her Grandchildren survive her. She lived, albeit with struggles a good life. She did things. All I do is lie in my bed, not even bothering to close the curtains, telling the time of day by the light in the room.
And then there is bigger stuff. I don't want to go into that though.
I won't do anything to myself. But sometimes I wonder.
What's the ******* point?