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Re: I hate myself and I want to die.

Posted by Anna Laura on July 18, 2001, at 1:42:41

In reply to I hate myself and I want to die., posted by kid_A on July 17, 2001, at 19:03:08


> Calm blue ocean.
> Calm blue ocean.
> Calm blue ocean.
> does -anyone- know how I feel?

Hi Kid,

I understand what you're talking about. I'm actually in the middle of a life crisis, don't know were to turn, when i got sick i was twenty-one: depression was way easier to handle, still had a lot of options, there were still traces of my old-self and my ideals were there to keep me going. Somehow blue skies in the foreground.
Im' 32 right now: i'm supposed to be at the peak of life, reaching my goals, etc... I 'm a college drop-out, doing small jobs and still depressed instead. I went through pure madness when i was 24, thought i'd never recover from that, but i did; don't know how i managed to survive psychotic depression: it was like burning alive: i envied those at the stakes way back in the middle age because they burned let's say for half an hour and then they would eventually died.
But the worst was yet to come; I could still feel love and my political ideals were still there (they were so strong that soothed my wound somehow). Well, i recovered from that, thought i was going to get well soon, but to my surprise, as depression symptoms subsided i grew more and more anhedonic, till the day i realized i lost my "self" on the way back from major depression. When or how i cannot tell, but i disappeared; the flamboyant, talented, passionate activist has been replaced by a dim, flattened, conformist self. Sometimes i regret i survived: anhedonia managed to do what madness didn't do: it earesed me, day by day, month by month.
It's like building castles in the sand and anhedonia being the wave desrupting the fragile little castle made of sand which is me.
Lately i have been growing stronger (the final outcome of a determined day-by-day dediction to myself, continuos self interrogation, insight producing and socializing a little bit more).
Still, i mourn over the loss of my youth, the dead of what i used to call me: yes, i was proud of myself, didn't want to be anybody else, now i sometimes envy animals, old people, even people with cancer, because i think they 've got something to hold on. They still have themselves.
I thought the self i used to call "me" could last forever, till my last breath: i used to think that i could keep my ideals until the end, but it wasn't so; sometimes i'm puzzled, can't believe it's true, but it has happened and it happened to me. My "love" has died. Now i feel emptied out, just meangless soul digging, soul devouring. The world around me it's so unfamiliar, like a high definition movie: cruelsome, cold metallic light bathing everything around me: no more technicolor like sights.
I walk aimlessly on clean hospital like streets, holding the regret of horror in my pocket.
I try desperately to listen to the slightest sensation, and when it comes i softly unfold it, because i'm afraid it would vanish. I pray for the sweet sea breeze and my body as a whole to come back again. The past was so colourful, and my memories so loud compared to the present that i sometimes feel like i 'm dreaming. Can't remember things, (i.e. what i did yesterday) probably because they are unimportant to me.
But i keep on going somehow: i still hope i can feel emotions and sensations again, still think that i can grow more lively somehow. I still hope that they come back to me kissing me softly before plunging in to the vast ocean we call death.
The last Sunday was horrible: i wanted to die, then i decided to fight back. I still feel sick at times i was stable till the last month, now the beast awakened again, i'm currently having like micro-bouts of depression at the moment; i don't know if i'm stepping backwards again or if i'll manage to bring this monster down: sometimes i feel i have got the power to tame it, other times it's just out of control and i feel defeated, i go back to bed then, my private shelter, and no matter what hour of the day is i sleep and i sleep till the day it's over and i can restart all over again.
I think i decided to live: i'm managing to figure myself like a warrior: wether is a warrior made of sand i don't know, let's see what happen next.

Hold on, you never know what could happen in the future: death can wait.

Anna Laura




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