9 | Sickening | 12/10/23

I haven't been documenting myself lately because there hasn't really been much to share in the past year. I figure, at least once in a while, I should come back here. Really this blog is just for myself. I guess I don't mind if people read it. But I would prefer if people I know don't read it. It's a weird request to have. I guess I just don't want people to judge me.

I've been having some very unusual feelings lately. I've made observations about myself that almost feel like the descent of who I was in the past. Not necessarily the normal "growing up" changes, just the slow recession of someone who is dealing with mental illness. I guess if I someday go insane and end up in a psyche ward or in a prison, then these blogs can be looked back on to see what went wrong. That would make life a bit easier, right?

It started all the way back in middle school, I think. For context, before middle school, I was very normal. I had lots of friends, talked to all kinds of people, engaged in my hobbies happily, and didn't seem to have anything wrong with me. If anything, I was remarkably intelligent. I don't know if that last part has changed about me. Regardless, middle school kind of had an effect on me that hasn't seemed to have left me yet; the beginning of my long-term "trauma", I suppose. I had to change schools, and so I lost many of my old friends. I also had to get used to a new school layout and schedule from the one I had gone to for about six years. I was dealing with problems at home that I'll simply summarize as "long-term divorce issues". I started to close myself off from others a lot more. I initially was very upset about this. I sat sadly alone at lunch tables with barely any appetite to eat my Fritos due to my melancholy. I still had a few friends, someone from Elementary school and her (now "his") friends that I got along with. But that wasn't really fulfilling.

Next couple years in middle school got worse. The middle year was when my depression started hitting very hard. I was unconfident in my artistic ability (I was properly getting into drawing at this time) and everyone around me seemed to have it better off than me. There was one particular student who everyone was friends with. I absolutely despised her. She was so happy and talented, not getting a single moment alone from her admirers. Meanwhile I was lucky to be able to talk to anyone in the large crowd in front of my middle school building every morning, while we waited for the doors to open. I believe the middle year was also when my menstrual cycle started. I got sick often, and even threw up twice, which caused me to miss school. PE class was absolutely wrecking my body all the while. My teachers were often very strict, with some exceptions. My friends just kept leaving me. School work kept getting harder and harder. Math class, in particular, I found impossible to understand. I drowned in homework. I drowned in personal problems. No one wanted to listen to me, they were too busy having fun. I was utterly miserable. But I know I hid it well initially.

Eventually the last year of middle school hit and my depression reached an all-time low. In short, the friends I had gone to school with were also in an online chat with me. I was seemingly different from all of them, maybe less mature or maybe just annoying. Maybe both. Either way, they often bullied me and neglected me. They called me expendable and did eventually kick me out of the group. I have since been invited back, but I haven't really talked to them. My direct friend has apologized to me and I thank him for it. It was just a very rough time. My only friends, the people I trusted, backstabbed me and didn't let up. Eventually I was left with very few people in my life left. At this point I was assigned to therapy for the first time. It didn't help me all that much, unfortunately.

I finally got out of the pit, only to be dragged right back in when a new group of online friends appeared as I was leaving middle school. I call them friends now because we have since gotten over our many issues and I now consider them to be my best and only friends. Again, I will keep it brief. We were backstabbed by an online artist who we trusted, and we all fought with eachother for a long, long time.  Some people left, but in the end those who cared about eachother stuck around. I am grateful I was one of the people who stayed. It was still one of the most mentally taxing experiences I have ever gone through in my life, and probably ever will go through.

Now we bring ourselves back to the present. I've gone through more personal problems, I've lost a few more friends, but I've managed to somewhat drag myself up from the pit. But that's not to say I'm out of the pit. So what's going wrong now? Well, all of my previous life experiences seem to have led me up to gradual mental shattering. I feel as though I am only getting worse, however I'm just not going through the worst compared to previous times in my life. If you want a proper metaphor, it's like being in an ill-manufactured plane; you feel safe going up and flying, but eventually the plane will crash. The state of the plane is only getting worse as you fly, but you are blissfully unaware of it. My plane is getting weaker, but it's not like I'm doing anything to it. It's just nature giving the plane constant hits.

Moving away from the metaphor, putting it in a literal sense is simple; I am losing my mind. My self-esteem is practically nonexistent at this point. I am emotionally unstable, becoming angry and sad very easily, while able to hop up and recover in mere minutes. I feel sick to my stomach often, like I'm waiting to throw up black bile. My chest feels tight like there's a million unfulfilled thoughts waiting to come out of me. But I don't want to tell people things because it will hurt them. It will. It has hurt them before. I admitted that I feel very little emotion, besides sadness, anger, and anxiety (and very rarely happiness). But what's remarkable is that it feels comfortable to feel nothing. I just feel like I'm comfortable existing without the world falling down around me. I am perfectly content alone and unhappy. As long as I'm not arguing with someone, or having my personal life collapse. I am okay with it. And doing literally anything seems to make things worse. So I do nothing. And I'm okay with that. It makes me feel content. Am I repeating myself? That's just because it comforts me to repeat myself.

In summary, my life has been nothing short of absolute torture on my mind. Which probably explains why I am as mentally destroyed as I am now. I can only hope I get past it, and this blog just becomes a bad memory. But if I don't, then I guess I should've seen it coming. I'm sorry for anything I do to you, or say to you, that comes off as me hating you or what you do. I'm sorry for anything I've done in the past to hurt you. I'm sorry for the times I will hurt you in the future. I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to do anything. But life isn't about nothing. Death is nothing. I'm alive, so I just need to fight myself. Maybe I can make up for all the things I have done and will inevitably do.

Until next time.