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JH1

Journal of a depressed person.

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JH1

Intro: 

The following is my journal, kept from summer 2017 through to summer 2018. I never really wrote it for anyone other than myself - mostly as a way of venting frustration. Having now decided to stop writing in it. I figured that it might be worth posting on a forum in the hope that at very least someone else might find it interesting, or at most helpful/relatable. 

I've left everything in, including names, dates and crude swearing. I'm not too concerned about the chances of somone I know finding this online, least of all here - so it may as well be acurate. 

In the end, I chose to stop writing in the journal because I was worried that it was only acting as an echo chamber for my darker thoughts, and have found it more productive to express myself to a professional (shrink/GP) that can actually answer some questions. 

I'm sure there are parts of this journal which will make little sense, so here's a little context that might make it easier to read:  I started writing aged 17 - a sixth form student,  mostly as a way to try to come to terms with my apparent depression and try to be proactive in dealing with it. I broke up with a really great girlfriend shortly before the journal starts, I cheated on her. And while it caused me a great deal of sadness to lose her, the main effect was not having anyone to talk to, and as such felt the need to try writing a journal.  The jury's still out in whether it actually helped me, but if I know it worked at the moment as a distraction. There isn't anything exceptional about my life, I'm from Cambridge, England. I'm still dealing with substandard mental health. I'm still waiting to have a formal diagnosis and still trying to find ways to stay healthy.

- J

 

Sunday 2nd July, 2017

 

Hating your life isn't a big deal, I think a lot of people wake up and wish they were somewhere else, or someone else. But that's just a guess, everyone else  all seem to, at the very least, be able to enjoy moments of their lives, true genuine joy, something that feels like an ever theoretical concept in my mind.

 

I don't want to be dramatic or selfish….I've always hated people who go around sodcasting their problems and feelings to everyone else like it's their right to be listened to and other people even care. I also hate people who can't deal with their own shit, and have taken it as a matter of personal pride that I'm emotionally intelligent enough to be objective about the facts of life, and to not let them bother me. However, I think that my own mindset in the matter of life might not be as positive as first thought. Since, despite not being an emotional wreck, it's doing fuck-all for my happiness. So maybe writing things down is decent compromise between not keeping it all bottled up, and not being 1st class victim-mindset neanderthal.

 

First and foremost, I don't think I'm depressed, or have a genuine mental illness, I think I might just be a overly cynical bastard? And I don't mean cynical in the sense of believing that all people are motivated by self interest. That's a given. I mean cynical in my view of other people's character, seeing weakness and flaws in all people so vividly they may as well be wearing a sign around their neck. Spotting likable characteristics is also something I struggle with, in fact I can't think of anyone I know who I'd think of as a genuine, strong charactered and sincere person.

 

I'd like to think I'm a reasonable judge of character. But that is distinctly separate from looking at a person, and all you can see is: Narrow minded, emotionally unstable, no understanding of social situations.

 

Maybe all people my age are just arseholes? Who attempt to make up for their lack of life experience by exaggerating their own dull stories enough to to elicit sympathy and attention from others- All desperately groping for the stage where they've had enough shit things happen to them that they can fully adopt a mindset and outlook of a truly victimized person - and never have to prove themselves again. It's strange watching people desire to have the life of a soldier who's had his legs blown off.

 

Peace is being away from people. But it's also really lonely.

 

Monday 3rd July

 

Quit my job today, small step towards sanity….. Don't have to listen to the lazy cunts whining about doing to bare minimum anymore. Hating people is proving problematic, if required to work with them. However, should be entirely possible to find a job I hate a bit less. Progress. I was once told that happiness in life is derived from the connections we make with other people, so it stands to reason that if I only make negative connections with those around me the I'll be unhappy. However, this also appears to be a problem with people I make positive connections with, since they eventually like me so much that they want to spend an ever increasing amount of time with me. Something that for whatever reason, really distresses me, not because I don't like their company, but because I prefer my own, but now the only person I have to talk to is myself, no longer stressful, but it certainly isn't much fun. This problem was epitomised with my last girlfriend. Loved her, hating spending my time with her.

 

Ironically, I find myself unable to understand what to do with myself when left alone, but a burning desire to be alone the moment someone wants to talk to me for more than a few minutes. This has resulted in being unable to make a connection with anyone strong enough, that I am able to tell them I hate them. Nearly got there with my last girlfriend, but she never fully appreciated how much I disliked her, and probably never could. Underlying love is what people expect to find in others, especially their partners, but a cold, negative alter ego that just wants to be left alone? Its shit knowing everything about yourself, I know I care about myself (otherwise why try and write this shit down?), but I certainly don't like myself, because I hate other people, and I'm a massive cunt.

 

Ha. The wonders of being honest with yourself.


 

Saturday 15th July

 

Just read some of my earlier entries, cheered me up a bit. NB, turns out finding yourself funny can actually improve your mood. Not having a great day today, its 12.49pm and I haven't done anything, which is bothering me, however more pressing is the matter that I don't appear to have anything to do. Which is strange, because I'm normally busy. I often found I'm motivated by trying to avoid  one negative stimulus at a time, eat because I'm hungry, sleep because i'm exhausted, get out of bed because my face feels shit and my throat is dry. Being motivated by small amounts of pain works, literally gets me out of bed in the morning. But I don't think it's sustainable, and is undoubtedly having an effect on my happiness.

 

Today feels like I'm in some kind of shitty purgatory. A state where nothing is "wrong" you're awake, fed, warm, not in any immediate danger, and have no reason to do anything because you are already in the place that the animalistic and my apparently negatively reinforced subconscious wants to attain. When people ask if your okay, you can't really reply cheerfully with "feeling like a bit like wooden chair"  Might throw them a bit.

 

Fuck me, at least a chair has a  purpose.




 

Sunday 13th August

 

Still feel unable to motivate myself to do anything constructive or useful. I find being home alone makes this feeling worse - since I can't spend time with my brother. Also, even the smallest contact with my mother seems to send me into near uncontrollable anger. I think every aspect about her existence, her personality, and her manner of speaking deeply irritates me. I do love her, she's done a lot for me. But I think I could list in detail everything about her that makes me want to never spend another second of my life listening to her. It's one thing meeting a thick person, who can't articulate themselves but it's an entirely different feeling being forced to spend time with someone who can't even contemplate the most simple aspects of human life.  She is so stupid I'm almost offended. And I think her attempts to impart her "knowledge" upon me, is what creates my honest, real, and entirely sincere anger. She is in her 50's and can't communicate effectively, understand explicit verbal cues let alone notice a subtle change in tone of the person she is speaking to, she can't recognize a facial expression. She can't recognize a facial expression. Oxford educated, speech-and-Language therapist who works in interpersonal communication and she can't recognize a facial expression. Makes me feel physically sick.

 

Enough about other people, not sure it's them that is the problem. I'm still struggling to like people, even my closest friends. People I used to love spending time with. These days I'm happier when I don't see them. This appears to be because of two reasons, firstly there very presence stresses me out, and secondly because they are using up my time. I think their presence distress me, principally, because they have nasty, flawed and ugly personalities and secondly because I don't want to listen to, or be with such people.

 

As for the time issue, "time" itself is also something that seems to irrationally distress me, I look at the clock, and if it doesn't say what I want to to say I become anxious. This is normally accompanied with a feelings of time moving too quickly, that I have wasted my time and somewhat unsurprisingly, that I don't have enough time. It's made my whole summer feel like a brutal countdown to unhappiness at college, where my feelings of not having enough time  create stress,and result in me not enjoying my already short summer holiday.

 

I've found that doing something, that isn't immediately pointless or fruitless, helps rid me of my feelings of wasting time during the day. However it feels impossible to get rid of the impending feeling, that there is only 6,5,4 more weeks left of summer, before I'm thrust back into a world full of expectation and people constantly demanding to know what you intend to do with your life, and I have to lie and say I "want" to get a degree. Or I "want" to work in this field or that field. Most days I don't even want to get out of bed. In some ways it's lucky that breathing, blinking and sleeping doesn't require motivation, I guess it means that I can become as disparaging and unhappy as I want, and I'll still be dragged through life, kicking and screaming by a body which refused to reflect my state of mind.

 

I tell myself it's just one more year, but I know it's going to be the worst one yet.


 

Monday 21st August


 

Finally got a new job, feeling a bit nervous after the last one, there are some seriously weird people out there.  Still struggling to make sense of my motivation problem, irony being that I'm actually failing to be constructive in my attempts to improve my ability to be constructive. Still unable to control my drinking, but hopefully after throwing up 30 odd times I'll learn to stop altogether. Trying to get back with Izzy, not getting very far, tells me she loves me then let's Alex Marchinack kiss her…..Jesus fuck he is an ugly bloke. My one consolement being that I if she has enough traumatising experiences with people who've never used their penises before…... then I might still stand a chance. Silver linings. Gives me something to focus on, which helps, means I spend more time worrying about what she's thinking than how I'd like to die. Still unsure about going to GP, last time they sounded like before they could help me I was required to at least have done self harm, with extra credit going for suicide attempts. Failing this fucked up criteria, I was almost literally told to come back once I'd started cutting myself, in a blunt condescending tone to polish it off. Her response to my genuine pain, was condescension….as a result my 10 minute appointment with a medical professional, was literally less useful than 'get well soon' card. She couldn't last two weeks in my head.

 

Going on holiday soon, first holiday in years...not sure what to expect. Not happy about spending a whole week with the inanimate fucking object that is my mum . Not thrilled about the mate I'm bringing, I like him and all. But he's not Izzy. Still, might be fun.

 

I normally write this when I'm feeling down, in a hope that it might help me relax, but today….it isn't working. And moreover, Isabel….well she's making excuses not to see me. This poses a small problem when she happens to be one of the only people who I can rely on.

 

That said, she's a complete cunt most of the time. Rude to me, snaps, gets moody for no reason, winges, can't make up her mind, and sometimes just picks random moments to insult me in front of my friends.

 

You'd think with so much in common, we'd get along. Sometimes we do, sometimes she's just a bitch.

 

I'd give the world just have her treat me the way I treat her.


 

Tuesday 22 August

 

Decided today that I need to go back to the GP. There was once a time, not so long ago when I could deal with my emotions, I could rationally think about things that were making me stressed and quantify them, remove them, just cope with them in a practical and logical way, once I did this. I'd be happy. I haven't been able to do this for about a year now. No matter how much self pride I used to invest in being emotionally intelligent, I'm not sure I can crack this on my own.  I'm having to work harder and harder to maintain relationships, to stay positive, to calm myself down, to not cry and to get out to bed in the morning.

 

Time is starting to just blur together, months have gone by, and my life is no greater for it. I'm no more significant, no smarter, no fitter, no happier. It's like being on a silent rollercoaster that never ends.

 

Notes for GP

 

  • Becoming distressed when having to engage with people. Even my friends

  • Angry at the passing of time, which feels like it's flying by around me,

  • Feeling helpless, because I can't help myself anymore.

  • No satisfaction in anything

  • Unable to motivate myself

  • Sleeping too much, but constantly feeling exhausted

  • Constantly thinking about death.

  • Have to try very consciously to calm myself down after I become upset

  • Immediately and vividly seeing dislikable characteristics in people as soon as I meet them. And from then on hating them for it.

  • Having breakdowns where I feel so upset I struggle to breathe.

 

 

Wednesday 8th November

 

I hate people, all people, every day every second, they are nasty self deciving egotistical aresholes who don't understand the first thing about human existence.  Some of them are too stupid to bear, some of them to wrapped up in their own bubble of lies to put up with. Made a terrible decision today, went to see tutor. Had completely forgotten how much of a cunt he is, won't be making that mistake again, mocked me, condescended to me and scoffed at the idea of me being ill. Turns out my GP isn't qualified enough to help me and I should really try just manning up a bit. Glad I'm sorted, time to get on with rest of life. Wanker.  "Yes, but have you tried dealing with the cause of your depression? The maybe you could come off the drugs and get on with your work" Thank fuck he reminded me that A levels are more important than my own miserable existence on the planet, I'd nearly forgotten. Fuck you Mr Cummings, as if I'm going to take life lessons from a fucking IT teacher who doesn't have the common decency to google something before he lays down his infallible words. Cunt. I'm so angry. Fuck depression, right now I hate people more than depression, depressions a fucking bitch, but I'd rather kill myself that listen to another lecture from a man so self obsessed he thinks he can speak from a position of authority while eating a microwave ready-meal, while  sat alone in his computer chair at lunch. Moron.

 

This is actually calming me down, might try going back to bed in a bit. I hate that I have to ask for help, I don't want help, I don't want people to look at me and pity me, I want them to be in awe.  I don't need sympathy…. But fuck me, I certainly don't need to be condescended to. Is it too much to ask just to be treated like an adult?

 

My mum is getting increasingly irritating, can't wait to leave, she just goes on...and on...and on...and is genuinely too stupid to realise I want her to fuck off. She keeps thinking I care, that I even give two shits about what happened at work, that I would even bat an eyelid if I didn't see her for 30 years. How can you be so dumb you can't even recognize when another person truly despises you .

 

Still trying to get back with Izzy, she's got to be the only human on this planet that can cheer me up. I mean hey, she's got her flaws, but at least she makes me smile. Its her birthday today, just wish I was still her boyfriend to enjoy it with her. She is so beautiful. 

 

Stopped hating dad? I think? Actually kinda regret living with my Mum and not him these last few months. Going to try and spend more time with him, he treats me like an adult, we have a normal relationship. Turns out he was just completely terrified of being a father, and once he'd skipped the hard bit, he's more than happy to step back in, he's a nice bloke, but he was a shite dad, maybe at least now we can be friends.

 

Decided I need to get a dog asap, can't put my finger on it, but they really cheer me up, and theses days being happy is like winning the lottery, roughly the same odds as well. So it can't hurt. Plus they are cute.

 

Still being unproductive, not doing any college work. Honestly stopped caring about almost everything, now I just want to be less sad, so I spend my time gaming or with Izzy and her dogs - fairly decent strategy, right up until she leaves, or I have to stop gaming and go to bed….or my mum bitches at me for not sitting and listening to her bitch about other people enough. It's literally like living with a 13 year old girl… she keeps coming into my room to say she is going to bed? Why? I don't care? It doesn't involve me? Fuck off?

 

Making lists of things I need to do each day works quite well - means while I'm still productive and generally useless I'm not missed deadlines.

 

List of ideas that might make me happier:

 

  • Spend every waking hour possible with Izzy

  • Get a rugo

  • Avoid mum at all costs

  • Avoid tutor at all costs

  • See GP more

  • Every day make list of things I want to do

  • Keep thinking about future

  • Start working out

 

Monday 15th January, 2018

 

Izzy left me. For real this time, she isn't coming back and she never wants to see me again. I am destroyed. There is no other way to say it, every fibre of my being broken. To watch your last flickering candle go out. To know with absolute certainty that happiness is gone. To be finally left alone with a world full of people I despise. Every one of them, all deceiving themselves. And the there is me, unable to lie to myself, god I wish I could. To be able to convince yourself of a white lie would be a wonderful thing, if I knew less and were I more deceived I would be a happier boy. Because I could just gloss over the nasty bits of life, I could silence the enraged man that lives inside my head. I could use my mind to cheer myself up rather than battling it just to get out of bed. These days I have to distract myself while I stand up, otherwise I wouldn't do it. I lay there for hours trying to find a song or a news stories that will take my mind elsewhere for just long enough to stand up.

 

I need help, and I am unable to help myself. The only person I could talk to has disappeared like a cruel magic trick. She knew how much I depended on her and it just made me less attractive in her eyes. There is not a single person I could call right now to talk to. Not one. There is no human being on this entire planet that knows how much pain I am in. So here I am, left to talk to myself in the vain hope that expressing pain might lessen it. In truth I'm just in an echo chamber with myself. I argue all day long in my own head all writing it down does is mean that I can distract myself with the task so I describe the emotions and don't feel them.

 

On the strength of a passing comment I pin all my hopes of not being alone. A pointless exercise in disappointment. I know no one cares about me. Not really. I know this because I don't care about anyone else, not really. On that basis I almost expect to be ignored. The GP is paid to listen to my pain, but can't do anything. I don't want gratification for being unhappy. I want the pain of existing alone to stop. I am surrounded by people, yet devoid of company.

 

So, tomorrow I have to cross a bridge to go to my interview. And either I cross that bridge, or I only make it halfway along. The dark icy water seems so welcoming. The momentary pain of death insignificant in the face of carrying on. The water would sting, but the overwhelming feeling of relief from life would be so relaxing I doubt I'd feel the cold.

 

Its not giving up, suicide is about being happy. Since I cannot find happiness in life, and all I have is pain, to stop that pain is the closest I can get to being happy. Death is inevitable, so I do not get to choose whether I die. I do however get to choose whether I live.

 

You can't make me do this. You can't make my live a life I don't want to live. To have the final say is consoling. The best part of course, you even get to choose how you die. There must be millions of people who over the years become to weak and feeble that they are only able to die as their body will allow.

 

It's too easy, all I have to do is write a letter, leave everything to toby.

 

I've always loved the sensation of being underwater, I replay the idea of diving off a bridge somewhere over and over in my mind. And here I am, alone in Belfast, with a one hell of a bridge to cross.

 

Monday 5th February

 

Already regretting not killing myself in Belfast. Can't even hold a conversation theses days. Dawned on me today that not only do I live without any friends, but I also live without any family. My brother is a theoretic concept who lords his lack of interest in video games over me via text. My father is somewhere, messaging me once a month. I can't be bothered to write about how much I wish my mom would just die already, she represents everything about human nature which I despise.  Just went it seems my life can't get any more sad and pathetic, something else comes along to rub it in. I can't live because it hurts to much, I can't face sitting alone in silence so I play rock music on full volume, I can't even play video games for 12 hours a day, because I can't get out of bed, I can't even do well in the pretend world I use to escape the real one. I can't even understand my college lessons. I can't even motivate myself to run away. To exist so pathetically is almost the only thing I'm good at, that and not telling anyone.

 

The girl I'm seeing at the moment is...well she isn't making me sad but she isn't Izzy. Kinda just depresses me when I think of how Izzy would have done something differently or when I think about the time we had together.  

 

So here is the question, am I depressed because my life is depressing. Or is my life depressing because I am depressed. I am unable to distinguish between the cause and the symptom, and i fear they feed of each other. So what to do. Be happy. Easy, but how to be happy:

 

1) Kill myself, not technically happy but close enough.

2) Go through some pretentious long winded self obsessed,  self improvement phase of my life that magically makes all my problems go away somehow generates feelings of purpose, self assurance and general contentment...bollocks

 

3) Go back to GP and ask for something that would kill a horse. More clear cut, still allows for option 1 if it fails to help.

 

Okay having written that down, killing myself definitely seems like the quicker more reliable option. But can I be bothered to kill myself? It would mean writing a will..some cheesy facebook posts from people who don't know me...a mediocre funeral and at best my dad will donate a token amount of money to a mental health charity. That said..much easier to endure when dead.


 

Friday February 9th.


 

Struggling to justify spending my time with other people. Just spent a whole week with a 6/10 who turns out to be a self absorbed gold digger who can't just fuck one guy at a time. I mean how hard can that be? I don't want to be a misogynist, I want to believe that women have the decency to treat other people like humans without either being thick, selfish or just plain rude...but lately it appears to be women that I hate the most. Every girl I've ever been with is simultaneously crass as well as being under confident.

 

Guys are obviously all much worse and have every imaginable failing as well. But I don't have a predisposition to want to fuck them, so they can be as pretentious and rude as they like.  

 

So I chase short term happiness flirting and fucking in a desperate hope that I won't come to despise them. Yet, one after another I find myself wanting to be anywhere else but listening to their poorly formed opinions while choosing between sex and a headache.

 

I can have any women I want, but its not worth all the time, effort and money just to hate them afterwards. At least if I don't know them the I don't know their flaws.

 

Most recent lady is annoying slut, but she gives world class blowjobs, I give it a month.


 

Sunday 4th March

 

Okay, so it's just about lasted a month. She remains pretentious as fuck, had a go at me for making her a cup of tea and the stirring it with a teaspoon that had been "contaminated" with milk. Yeah. This is the level of stupid I have to put up with to get laid. She isn't even lactose intolerant for fucks sake she's just a bitch. The amount of sex we are having has greatly decreased. Might bail on this one, she really is a half wit. I wonder how many other people have to choose between sanity and getting to tie a girl up. I really want both things, and it's not easy trying to balance them at the moment.  I swear to god I wanted to slap her when she refused to touch the second cup of tea I made her, with a new mug and a new spoon. She doesn't deserve to live in a first world country.

 

On the flip side, I'm not sure I can be bothered to find another girl, (much like my last relationship) it's easier just to carry on that go through the whole being polite while meaning "please fuck off" conversation again.

 

Enough about girls. Human connection appears to be my real problem - can't find anyone I like. Like anyone, I have no friends, none. Dave - halfwit introvert with nothing about him. Jordan - professional moron. And those are the only two people I know well enough that I means I feel the need to highlight that fact I don't like them. I really really really really hate people. They just don't get it. They don't understand the world. They can't even see my hatred for them. I'm openly condescending to people. And the DON'T NOTICE. It's a joke, they are so dumb they can't see that I'm accusing them of being dumb.

 

So. I need to find a person I like quite badly. It's getting out of hand now. Everyone is just so thick. There is truly no one in my life who I admire, or like, or even begrudgingly respect.

 

Just seems so unfair, why can't I be moronic and happy like everyone else? Why can't I be stupid enough to enjoy the company of other idiots? I'm cursed with knowing more that those around me, I'm plagued with seeing people for what they are - little more than cardboard cutouts. And the worse part is, I have no one to empathise with. Not a single soul feels my pain.

 

I would happy end all human existence, just so I never had to meet a vegan again. I'd cut my own leg off if it meant I never had to listen to a girl bitch about another girl. I'd eat a bucket of broken glass if it meant I could respect my own mother as a human being.

 

I like being drunk, I like memes, I like being underwater, I really like dogs, I really like nice food. I just hate people. I want a dog, I'd trade every person thats ever smiled at me just to have a dog. Dogs are great, they wear their hearts of their tails and they have sharp teeth. Like The perfect human.

 

Game plan ,1)  persuade dad to finally buy a dog. 2) Find a less irritating piece of meat to shag and get rid of Ellie asap. 3) Make a friend. Just one. Fffs please just let me have a friend.








 

Thursday, 8th March

 

 

Got rid of the slut. Skipped college, got to see toby. Improvements, definitely - but no satisfaction. Nothing. Decided I might stop writing in this journal, it's pointless, doesn't help, just gives be something to do that isn't sitting alone in silence. I've just read through the whole thing, it would appear my own mindset is deteriorating. Not that there's anything I can do with this knowledge (other than be depressed about being depressed) I mean, I want to be happy. But I've spent so much effort and time trying to be happy with so little success it's genuinely saddening in of itself.  I've run out of ideas. The infinite list of things I could do to improve my life has been finished. I've got a better job, seen my GP, kept a journal, got more sleep, tried and failed to get Izzy to take me back.  What's the point. Fuck this. And fuck you all.

 

I think, had I done it differently, I should have been a whiny little bitch, I should have cried, or cut myself for attention. It's the only way people would have actually tried to help. Not that they could help. But I'll never know, all because I'm too intelligent and too proud of my own intelligence to ever act so stupidly.

 

It would be out of character to actually want help, let alone try that hard to get it. Maybe the problem all along was that I didn't really want to help myself - that self destruction seemed like the right and proper way to live my life, dissembling piece by piece until I had nothing left but a sad journal.

 

It's impossible to get help without betraying myself. To cut myself non-fatally for attention, or cry or actually stay on the silly drugs the GP put my one, would be to reject everything I held dear,

and everything I respected about myself.

 

I've decided how best to kill myself, just going to use a kitchen knife to open my wrists and throat. And then in that final moment, I'd remain true to my own self and just sit there calmly, and then leave quietly.  

 

I respect myself, because I knew I knew more than those around me, because I knew I could manipulate anyone to believe anything, because I knew I had the strength to do anything I wanted to do. Because when it came down to it, I'd never met someone who was like me, I was lonely sure, but it actually made me feel superior. I felt like I was on to something, that as long as I kept my brilliance to myself, the I could rise to the top of this strange world, have anything I wanted. But in truth, there is no reward for being a better, more vivid human that those around you, only cruel punishment, self inflicted pain from becoming so lonely that I the only people I saw on my 18th Birthday, was my family - out of obligation to them, and a single girl called Isabel Ritchie, who stuck around out of some misplaced obligation to me. I love her, I always did. She was the only sentient being, that saw my pain, she could never understand it, but wanted to, and that meant the world to me.

 

So this is me, I'm still able to be rational about the facts of life, I'm still able to deal with it, and this is me dealing with it. I never changed, not once. I was a loner back then, I'm a loner now. I was sad back then, I'm sad now. I hated living then, I hate it now. It's been now over a year. The thought of doing another year seems impossible, another 60 years? Not even imaginable.

 

So. I'm going to call the GP. Because I'm split. It's perfectly rational to kill myself, I decided that in belfast. Yet I keep trying, keep hoping it will get better - irrationality, and unsuccessfully, but persistently. Optimism, strange, out of place, proven wrong optimism, like some remnants of my younger self still mistakenly thinking that optimism is a positive thing, optimism drags me around like shock collar, I despise it. It's not me, never was.


 

Friday 9th March

 

 

Okay so I'm high as a kite. So what. It feels amazing, first time all week I've felt relaxed enough to sleep. 5mg of Valium and some antidepressants, and I'm like a new person. It's like being high, but still perfectly functional, like alcohol, but you just get the buzz, no side effects. The GP was right, I can see how this would get addictive, I mean, I'd happily live the rest of my life like this.


 

Sunday 11 March

 

Been an interesting few days, calmed down a bit now. These meds certainly have a kick. I spent Friday staggering around college like a drunk kid with ADHD - winking at people I didn't know.  Saturday, I played water polo with the ferciousty and gleeful violence, that I haven't experienced in years, nearly vomited in the pool but otherwise I had twice my normal energy. That night at work, I dropped a ceramic salt shaker and a silver candle - unable to stop my hands from shaking. My pupils are permanently dilated, and I'm slightly too social - made more friends in a single weekend than the entire year before.  

 

My depressingly dull life remains, I feel better, but I find myself bored, and offended by the way people treat me. I guess that answers my question, turns out my life was depressing because I was depressed - and had withdrawn from the world, and turned inward in an attempt to avoid any kind of social situation.

 

Therefore, the next step towards improving my mental health, would logically be to make my surroundings, and day to day life less depressing. This is where it find I have a problem, how do I change things that seem beyond my control? I can't magic a new, more likable, more dependable set of parents out of thin air, I can't even spend more time with Toby.  College however, might no longer be a problem - since all I have to do is dope myself up and sit there being high, I can do that.

 

I have another problem, I don't have any friends. Is seems impossible for an 18 year old surrounded by people in a massive city. But I don't have a single person who I'd consider a close friend. I have Izzy, I think, but the problem remains that she can never feel the same about me again, and however close we get, she'll always push me away because of our past. I have a few friends who I could intentionally spend more time with, ask more personal questions to - in fact I'm fairly certain I could engineer Dave or Jordan into thinking I was their best friend. But this would be in equal measure desperate and manipulative. In truth, I don't really want to me that close to either of them, they aren't like me.

 

So how do I make new friends? I mean everyone else my age has deep friendships that were built over the last 10 years of their life. But I recall sitting through the last 10 years of school, not liking people. And certainly not wanting to get close to them.


 

Monday 12th March

 

Turns out college isn't much better regardless of the anti-depressants, I'm still sat here craving to be back home and playing xbox with Toby. The noise, the conversations, the pointless task set by the teacher. Its near introlable. I dislike the smells, the sounds, the chair, the fact I'm hungry, and tired, and halfway between running away out of panic, and falling asleep with boredom. I'm sat in a politics lesson right now, counting down the minutes, desperate for this mindless slog to end.

 

I want to be eating a pasta bake I'd just taken out of the oven, drinking alone with Izzy, maybe even just playing with a friendly dog. There are so many situations I'd rather be in. I hate my life, all I have to look forward to is a proper meal, like most days I've skipped breakfast because getting out of bed is only possible when I know I have to leave for college in the next 3 minutes, sometimes the threat of getting kicked out of Hills doesn't even drag me out of bed. Lunch is also a theoretical concept, mum doesn't buy food, so I don't eat unless I pay for it, and I hate spending money on food, it's illogical. All I've eaten today is a 79p pasty from co-op, I haven't shaved, and its entirely my fault.

 

Monday 19th March

 

My life goes around in circles. Each day the same. Every second draws me closer to the next thing I don't want to do. I can't make myself like people, so I have no one to talk to, today I'm writing in this journal because I have no other way of expressing myself.  Suicide seems more and more welcoming, all I have to do is swallow valium and vodka until I pass out permanently. It's almost too easy, the funny part it I'd probably enjoy the experience. I just don't think I can do this anymore. It's driving me insane.


 

Saturday 7 April


 

Its 3.26 am at the moment. I've achieved nothing in days. I'm constantly considering suicide. Why not? I can't have anything. Not even a friend. Even, thick ugly poor people have friends. Refugee's have friends. But I don't. Why can't there just be one other person like me. I want to die. It's not worth it anymore. The happiness gained from getting  out of bed in the morning pales in comparison to the agony it induces.

 

I have nothing. I spend my short days playing computer games. The crashing back into bed, lying awake for 3 hours, and the sleeping in until mid afternoon, get up, eat and game some more. What else is there to do? Revise?

 

No one even notices my existence. Izzy doesn't even care about be enough to come see me, instead she just talks about herself, and how happy she is and how fucking excited she is for the week ahead. Just leave me alone. I don't want to see how beautiful you are, and  how great your life is. Just rubs in the fact you used to be mine.

 

I'm going to kill myself. Just a matter of when really, decided to try and get some valium off the GP to use. The just go to bed one night and that's me done. I'm actually looking forward to it. The idea of not existing seems infinitely better than existing.

 

Sunday April 8th

 

Deep in my head, past all the unhappiness and bitterness, there is a tiny part of me that wants to live, that truly believes that if I get this job in belfast, put enough miles between me and everyone and everything I hate, rent a flat, get a dog, make some friends - fuck me, maybe even get a girlfriend...that if will all be okay.

 

Problem is, the amount of effort to get that...almost seems impossible.

 

Wednesday April 25th

 

I'm hesitant to even entertain the idea, out of fear of just deluding myself...but I think things are looking up. My anti-anxiety medication, works. Just simply works.  I can sleep, I can be social, I'm calm, relaxed, normal.

 

As for my antidepressants, hard to say, but at least with the Valium I'm calm enough to try and make myself happier. Izzy...is talking to me again, I'm still hesitant to suggest she might still want me...but she gave me a hug the other day….let me kiss her on the cheek…

 

As for the future, I'm less disparaging. I might even have a job lined up. I liked Belfast more than I thought I would, I am actually excited to get to go back.

 

Wednesday May 16


 

Re-read my whole journal this morning. It would appear I go through cycles of intense depression, alleviated by increasingly strong medication, only to slip back into depression.

 

My mood has been all over the place in the last few weeks..up, down, left, right. I've gone from being on top of the world one day to not leaving my bed for 3 days back to being so excited I can't sleep and the remain happy all day….only to feel depressed the next day.

 

What the fuck? This is just confusing. I'm going to speak to my GP about getting a diagnosis.


 

Saturday June 1

 

Depressed like never before, unable to do anything. Like anything, having a shower feels like an achievement these days. Izzy….doesn't want anything to do with me. Made that pretty clear today. I've decided to leave her alone. Just let us drift apart, beats any emotional goodbyes.

 

I've decided that if I get to belfast, and I don't like the job. The I'm going to kill myself. Not to put any undue pressure  on myself to enjoy it, But if I genuinely don't, and I'm just causing myself more pain by carrying on with things, then I'll end it. Seems sensible.

 

The GP's new  drugs are shite, don't do anything. May as well be taking paracetamol every morning. I miss the valium I was on, at least that had an effect. In retrospect it appears I was given it to make myself happy in the short term - the GP was literally just trying to stop me from killing myself, in full knowledge that there was fuck all she could do for me in the long term.

 

I'm not that sad about losing Isabel, she's changed. She's not the girl I loved. She's a less sexy, more confident, and  more optionated person. Its un-nevering. The words "YOU CAN'T GET A DOG JESSE" were said with such religious ferocity that finally I had the moment which I have with almost every other person I've ever met, where I think - you're just another fuckwitt.

 

I can get a dog, and I will do. Why? Because I need the company, and because I dislike people. She'll never understand that... I'm pretty confident that her only interactions with me at this point are out of guilt. She's worried that if I kill myself she'll feel somehow responsible. I'm tempted to do it just to fuck with her. That way I get my own back + I don't have to live anymore - win win.

 

Fuck you Izzy. Go be a dumb slag like your sister.

 

So, now what? I still really need a fuck. Like really badly, and I'm running out of girls to ask. Two have said they just want to be friends. And I think 3, no 4 girls have said they have boyfriends.

Fuck me, I'm actually going to have to go and meet more people. That's going to require a lot of effort. I suppose we'll see how sexually frustrated I can get before I'm forced into pretending to be interested in some moron for long enough to get a blowjob. Urgh. I wish I was gay. So much less effort.

 

I want to delete my social media...facebook is terrible, I open it every morning hoping for a message from a girl. It's just a glorified extension of my nonexistent sex life. The I scroll down a bit, see a few photos of people enjoying themselves, a few girls i used to know looking hot in tight dresses...facebook is a strange thing.

 

However, it might mean that I lose contact with the last few friends I have. I'll give them my number in the morning, save all my photos, the go for it. Besides, if I ever want it back I can just make a new profile.

 

Friday June 8

 

So, here is me. Best part of a year since I started writing in the journal, not really sure what I've achieved by it. In fact my earliest entries are little different from my last one, bitter, unhappy and desperately searching for answers.

 

Feeling less suicidal for a change, I think have exams to focus on has helped. Not that I'm doing any revision - purely that the notion of impending exams is occupying my mind adequately enough that I've paused planning my early retirement.  

 

Fuck my life. Or more accurately fuck my perception of life. My life is easy, if I'm board or a bit lonely - then it should be easy to fix. Just do something, just talk to people. But for whatever reason I hate the idea of talking to people. I particularly hate the idea of leaving the house to do anything. In fact I'm getting pretty great at not doing anything. Its starting to become a lifestyle.

 

Wake up, swear and be grumpy. Find my laptop, click though some messages or emails or a youtube video to take my mind of the never ending sadness. Stagger over to the bathroom, blink into the mirror and clear my eyes of junk so I can get a proper view of my once athletic body waste away.

 

Got to the kitchen, find myself disappointed at the lack of nice food. And unmotivated to cook myself even the most simple of breakfasts, If I can be bothers I make myself a cuppa and go back upstairs, turn on the computer and waste few hours.

 

And the its just filling in time, dabling in a bit of this, googling that, binge watching an iplayer series, feeling angry about Isabel.

 

Until finally I'm tired enough to sleep, Repeat until suicidal. The worst part about a downward spiral is you can see where it leads, but can't be fucked to do anything about it .

 

So, I need to keep reminding myself to be myself, to not lose anymore of what I've already lost. I try to talk to people these days...and it's pretty clear I'm out of practice. My personality has been hollowed out, scratched away at. I try to be charming, funny, intellectual. I just can't. I've forgotten how.

 

Sunday 17th June

 

Fuck christians. I wasted a good four hours of my life trying to have a proper theological discussion with two morons which turned out to be common homophobes.  Not going to bother seeing them again.

 

Fuck Frances. She really is an intolerable half wit. I would happily watch her get hit by a car.

 

Fuck my medication. My as well be taking grapes each morning. It's a sick joke

 

Fuck A levels. Complete waste of time.

 

Thursday 21st June.

 

Now that's just cruel. Must admit I should have seen it coming

 

Went out for the first time ever, met a great girl, left her in the morning. She said I should message her…..and she doesn't reply.  Absolute fucking classic. I mean at least she had the humanity not to leave me on read. But this is becoming scary. The simple quantity of girls that ignore me after we kiss or go on a date, or have a really nice chat in person. I mean,  well over a dozen - just in the last two months.

 

Like, how? How am I that attractive in person, and that repulsive over text?  Sounds like an easy solution, just don't be that weird person who sends you loads of unwanted messages. Sorted...except the problem is I don't do that, I'll send a girl one message or one text, and if it becomes clear she isn't going to reply. I just think "ah well, fuck her" and move on. Because that's when sane people do? Isn't it?

 

Just makes me sad everything I see that little "Active 1 minute ago" sign however about the message I sent two days ago. I mean its normal to get rejected now and then and its normal to feel a little hurt. But it can't be normal to have a success rate of like 10%. And that's a success rate which includes all the girls that asked just to be friends, or that take 4 days to reply but at least that they do, along with the 3 girls who have boyfriends, not failing to include the ones that never replied to my messages, but at least felt guilty enough to chat to me in person when I bumped into them, and of course the girl that turned about to be an actual prostitute with daddy-issues. You can't make this stuff up.



 

So the problem is clear, but I have no idea how to fix it. I mean, I could just never open my messenger app again until I get a message. At least that would put an end to the "l wonder why ----- hasn't replied " moment.

 

This is why I wanted to delete my fb...just anything to get away from the rejection cycle.

 

Oh well.


 

Friday 22nd June.

 

My life is strange. Not good or bad objectively, but definitely odd. I'm convinced other people don't live like this. My mind is just a dull cycle of the same questions, week by week, month by month:

 

Why can't I sleep when I'm tired?

 

Why can't I socialise when I'm lonely?

 

Why can't I work out when I want to?

 

Why haven't I got any friends?

 

Why do I pretend to like the few people that like me?

 

Why do I miss having a girlfriend so much?

 

Why do I constantly think about killing myself?

 

Why does talking to my own mother make me feel like cutting my ears off?

 

Why doesn't anyone understand?

 

Why I'm I alone?

 

Why, why, why….no answers. No great awakening. No cure. No happiness. Just existence.





 

Sunday 24th June


 

How dare you. How dare you bring me into this world. How dare you torture me mind, my wonderful mind. I could have changed nations.

 

I am separated from myself by a glass mountain. And my old self would have climbed that mountain. But I can't get to him, and he can't hear me.

 

My mind is crippled. My mind.

 

How dare you, how dare you let Kelcie walk away. She was a drop of peace in a ocean of pain. A one night stand where we didn't even have sex, just talked. Talked about the world, I told her how I would change it. I didn't just open up my heart to that girl, I opened my mind. And she walked away.

 

A cold towel on a broken leg. No cure, but a momentary sensation on peace. And the to loose that peace...the fire than remains underneath returns. The pure rage, it's consumed me. I'm not hollow, but a human furnace that burns on in the night.

 

No one can rob my of my humanity. No one can take away my mind, my mind that is oceans deep and and continents wide. I am a husk, but that husk remembers what it once was.

 

I will fight this, I will fight this until the day I die. Because if I get back, even for one day. Then it will have been worth it.

 

So fucking try me.

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