I am a failure.

My chest is aching, my eyes hurt from crying and I have trouble breathing.

This carefully built shell is breaking, and because the inside is hollow, I’ll have nothing left.

The new life I’m working so hard on is crumbling down and I don’t have the strength to prevent it.

I can’t go through this a second time.

Point lost

I currently don’t see the point of living anymore. I don’t want to sound gloomy, but I really don’t feel like my life has a purpose or that it’s leading me somewhere. I just exist, no more no less.

I will keep on living to spare my parents the grief of losing their child, but if it wasn’t for them, I don’t think I’d find an other reason to keep walking this planet. I have nothing special, peculiar to give this world.
Like I said, I will keep on living for the sake of my parents, but that’s about it. There is no joy, no goal. I lost everything. I am an empty shell. I am alive yet lifeless.


Mood: so so so incredibly sad; angry at myself for falling for the same empty words and promises again and again and expecting a different result each time; lonely; useless

Physical: drained, splitting headache, not able to sleep properly, crying (crying as I’m writing this), difficulty breathing (when crying), this morning: swollen eyes

Causes: the usual fuckery; grandfather’s current situation reminds me of grandma

Am I awful for being angry at my parents’ happiness? It’s the one thing I’ve always wanted to see happen, and now that it’s happened, I’m angry and jealous because I am feeling so lonely and unloved myself. My thinking is so screwed up right now. I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything’s going to be alright. Correction: no, not just -someone-.

Also: screw you for always doing whatever the fuck you want. And for continuously messing with my mind and emotions with your empty words and promises that give me false hope. Why can’t you just mean them and stop playing with my heart? This is beyond fucked up, dude. Don’t treat me like your callgirl or play doll that you can pick up and toss aside whenever you feel like it. And yet I keep clinging onto every word you say. Those “bottom of the ladder” thoughts are back in full glory. Congratulations.


“Mood journal”, a new ‘project’ I’m willing to try out, as advised by my psychologist.
Today, entry 1.

Mood: confused, frustrated, jealous, disappointed, sad, heartbroken, lonely, unloved

Physical: (new anti-depressants since 2 days: Escitalopram instead of Duloxetine) splitting headache, heartache, dead tired but unable to sleep, overthinking, trembling hands

Reason(s): the usual doubts; constructing doom scenario’s inside my head; dreamed about grandma; lack of attention

Rain on my cheeks

I was feeling better this morning. Sure, I still had that throbbing sense of sadness in my chest, but it seemed like the thunder cloud above my head coloured one shade less grey.
This afternoon I even went for an ice-cream with my mom. I couldn’t bear watching her torment herself about the possible causes of my depression anymore, so I confessed everything (okay, so it did involve some sugarcoating) while idly stirring the remainder of my melting sundae. She took it quite well, or at least, I felt she was relieved she could finally stick a label on the possible roots of my issues.
Despite the semi-panic attack at the parlour, I genuinely enjoyed being outdoors for a bit, and even opted to watch a movie with her this evening.

I’m guessing someone out there felt my cloud was being too bright for this time of year.

My mind became aware of the fact that I am not ranked high on anyone’s list.

A little past 1h30 a.m., while participating in the usual screen-staring, a sudden tsunami of intense sadness/hopelessness/loneliness washed over me. Reason: my mind became aware of the fact that I am not ranked high on anyone’s list of importance. Sure, I have a few friends and colleague-friends I occasionally interact with, but when push comes to shove, I am not one of their concerns; I am simply convenient at times. But the real smack in the face was the realization that the person whom I consider a confidant and good friend (even post-break up) – a “false support”, my therapist calls it – made me feel like I was/am entertaining as long as no one better’s around.

And so I started crying, no, weeping, uncontrollably for about an hour. For the past two weeks the urge to cry had been blocked by the anti-depressants, but this time the feeling was so overwhelming that I couldn’t stop sobbing, even after I ran out of tears, curling up in a ball until my pillow was damp and my abdominal muscles were aching.

It’s about 4 a.m. right now. I’ve calmed down, but my overthinking brain is still taunting me. I keep thinking that for once I just want someone I deeply care for to say that they miss me, or that they care about me. I just need a hug and a reassurance that everything’s going to be fine. That I’m worth it and that I -am- important to them. For once, let that person make me feel special; I don’t care if it’s just make-belief.
Because right now, I just feel like pulling the covers over my head and never attempt getting up again.