What do I have to be sad about?

Poverty.  Mental illness.  Violent self-loathing.  Loneliness.  The fact that Donald Trump could very well become president.  The fact that in less than a week I'll be 28 fucking years old and have done absolutely nothing of value to absolutely anyone in damn near three utterly wasted decades.

But other than those things? Nothing really.  Everything is fucking swell.

I hope I die soon.  I'm tired.  I'm so tired.  My life is too much.  Like, they say God doesn't give you more than you can handle, but that's just not true.  Everyone has shit going on that is just too much.  But the difference between me and everyone else is that everyone else isn't a useless piece of shit and can rise to the challenges they're given.  Me, I just worry and cry and hurt myself and pray for death but not have the courage to end it.

gotta catch em all

So I obsess about things.  Like... when I'm into something I am REALLY into it.  It gets a lot of my mental energy.  Lately one of my old obsessions has been back in full force: Pokemon.  I've been playing it a lot lately and watching the anime.  Thinking about my Pokemon team is fun.  Imagining a world where Pokemon was real is awesome.  Looking forward to the new game this fall gives me a reason not to kill myself tomorrow.  So it's great.

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and kill myself when I was 16 so I could just not have to deal with this whole last decade of struggle and depression.

I feel like I should elaborate on that point but what else is there to say?

musings on misery

When I first started getting really bad, I used to wonder if it was possible to get so sad that it would just kill you.  Like that sounds so emo, but the emotional pain kept getting worse, and it genuinely made me wonder if it would keep getting worse until my body gave out.  Eventually I realized, yeah, that can happen.  You can get to be so miserable you die.  But that death isn't because your body gives out, it's because you can't take it any more and you end it.

I'm not there.  I think (and fantasize) about dying often, but I'm not going to do it.  But I understand it a lot better now, how you could get there.

But I've realized lately... there's a huge difference between wanting to die and wanting to kill yourself.  You couldn't understand unless you've been there (I know this because I never understood before).

The only scary thing is that it's always the worst it's ever been, in my experience.  People say it gets better, but nah... it keeps getting worse.  And it always feels so bad I can't take it anymore... and then instead if easing up, it just fucking gets worse.

So no, I'm not there now... doesn't mean I won't get there.  This isn't a threat or a cry for help.  Just opening up... since I'm told I should do that (not that anyone wants to listen lol...).

I used to really love to cook.  I used to really love to write.  I used to really love to play The Sims.  I used to really love to brush my dolls' hair and change their outfits and photograph them.  I used to really love to post on social media.  I used to really love to watch movies.  Now... I don't really enjoy those things anymore.  They kind of actually make me want to die... writing and cooking especially.  It's kind of like staying interested in the same shit is another thing I'm expected to do.  But its not like I enjoy other things... I just don't have fun anymore or like anything anymore.  I just spend each day getting closer to death, but not fast enough.

It's been almost two months

And I've only not updated this blog because I've been lazy.  Life has gone on, in much the same fashion.  I've wanted to die most of the time but hey!  I'm still here.  I've been cooking and writing and been made to feel guilty for being unemployed.  Nothing new in any of it.