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Reflection from October 4th, 2008 @ Age 27


Another lonely Saturday night at my parents’ house.  It really makes me want to kill myself thinking about how everyone else is out having fun with their friends.  Thinking about how I don’t have any friends.  Thinking about how I’m the only one left now without a significant other.  I swear it’s enough to want to kill myself.  Thank god for my “as needed” meds.  This is where they come in handy.

I do wonder whether my writing would be interesting at all to anyone else.  I wonder if the things that I think really matter and I wonder if anyone else would even care to read the words that I write from my heart.  I wonder if my heart has any worth.  If my words have any meaning.  If my thoughts have any value.  I wonder and I wonder alone, by myself.  I hate living like this, without friends, with nothing to do, no people to see, no place to be.  It’s funny, it’s no wonder to me why that 17-year-old boy went and killed himself by the train.  I have most of the comforts that I need categorically, but without people to share my life with, it doesn’t matter what or how much that I have.  Nothing really matters without people to share it with.  And I love my family dearly but they can only carry me so far. 

I just want to know why, all of my life, I’ve had such terrible difficulty making and maintaining relationships.  I don’t know what it has to do with, whether it has to do with my not liking bars or my bipolar or what.  I don’t know why, but I have terrible difficulty making and maintaining relationships.  That’s what makes me want to kill myself.  The loneliness when everyone else goes home at night.  The loneliness when everyone else goes home to their significant other, and I come home by myself.  It’s enough to want to kill myself.  It’s no wonder, that 17-year-old boy.


Tonight I was talking with Rachel and she asked me about the classes my new gym offers me and I said to her, “they offer a lot of classes but not a whole lot for people who actually work.”  And now I feel awful because Rachel’s not working right now and I can’t believe I said such a crass and spiteful thing to my more-than-wonderful sister-in-law.  It makes me hate myself.  That’s the problem with me, I do all these things instinctively that I end up regretting and I just keep hating myself over and over again.  Yes I can learn from them and not make the same mistake again, only problem is, the mistakes are infinite and so then, is also my hatred towards myself. 

I hate when I do things that hurt me and leave me feeling selfish or judgmental or stupid or ashamed or spiteful.  I’m waiting for the drugs to kick in; I think I can feel them now, and then I’ll lie down for a peaceful slumber until morningtime.  I just feel like the more people I have in my life, the more opportunity I have to make these kinds of mistakes that leave me so self-loathing.  I said what I said because I am jealous of people who do not have to work.  I act many times like I have the worst of the problems, like all my friends have it easier than me.  We all have problems, but in all reality, what could be worse than having nothing but loneliness. 

Ohh how my thoughts are coming forth jumbled and lacking in meaning.  I wonder how long it will take so that I don’t have to feel so alone.  I wonder how long I will have to live without friends and a significant other.  I wonder about these things because I feel like I’m in my 20s and supposed to be having the time of my life.  But I feel I’m just wasting my life away, every second of everyday.