This makes for uncomfortable reading... so fuck you
I am angry. Very angry. Furious, boiling rage, seething with rage, full of bilious spite at everything and everyone.
***I am angry with Her*** Her especially, for treating me like a cunt, after so called adult, mature conversations about whether to continue. Absolutely fucking furious rage at Her because she failed completely to figure out how to manage the relationship like an adult; how to treat people when it came down to it. Furious with Her because she thought so fucking little of me and found it so easy to just fucking run when her fears kicked in.
***I'm fucking angry with my ex-wife***, with her lack of any fucking emotion, lack of thoughtfulness, devoid of any concern for anyone but herself, of failing to show any gratitude, ever. Of, despite being told, how she cannot say 'thank you' for anything, let alone acknowledge that she may actually be wrong. I fucking hate her because she's never wrong, nothing is ever to do with her, she is always a fucking victim or bystander in events which she is involved in.
***I am fucking furious with my mother***, who's not shown a shred of interest in my well being since I've got over the SSRI incidents, who can't, won't even acknowledge I exist any more. I'm fucking angry with her that she spent 2 months going into hospital every fucking day to watch that cunt die and he was nothing but a bastard, and she did it out of a sense of duty, yet I don't figure in the scheme of things.
***I'm fucking angry at myself***, for as my mum put it, 'not developing a back bone' for letting that cunt destroy me, for trying to live to a set of morals and beliefs which have left me fucked over FOR FORTY FUCKING YEARS, time and time again. For, and get this, trying to be a good person (how delicious, the devil must be pissing himself) and never, ever having anything in return; no self respect, no love, no success in life. I fucking hate myself for being depressed. For never being able to climb out of this hole, away from the Pit, to be happy, to be able to go into denial and be a happy la la la person with friends and things that make me smile and happy and be able to push down and bury all my fears, andsupposedly enjoy life, people and be a happy person. I'm a social leper, I want to die.
*** I'm fucking angry at life*** for dealing me shit, for seemingly conspiring against me like tonight; went round ex-wifes to get house and duct-tape for car because suicidal thoughts have come back and figure largely in my list of things to do. Typically, my wife had gone to bed and locked up, AT HALF PAST FUCKING NINE!? Gimme a fucking break.
***I'm fucking angry at people*** who look and treat me like a social fucking leper. Angry with those fuckers who cannot and will not ever be able to comprehend what this is like, what depression does, how it eats me up. I'm fucking angry at them because they are scared shitless, gawping, slack jawed at the words 'I suffer from depression'. I fucking hate the fear in their eyes, their body language, when they try to act as if nothing is wrong, or they're cool with it, they're in control and mature, but still they squirm and their body language gives them away and I can see how uncomfortable they are around me. I'm fucking angry at people who whine and behave like a victim as if it were an olympic sport; who do fuck all to help themselves - here's where I can hate myself again, I'll just go stand in front of a mirror and tell myself I'm a cunt, get it over and done with.
***I'm fucking angry at whatever force it is up there*** for allowing this to happen to me, despite begging, pleading & praying for some retribution, to cure me of this curse of depression. Instead I have to carry this fucking illness like some poor fucker - Job? Who was pushed to the limit just for a fucking wager. That's sick and pathetic and contemptable. I'm fucking angry that I can't find joy, or peace with myself, or be content. I hate myself because, everyday I cannot get Her out of my head - that I judge my own shitty existence by Her. I hate myself, because I think of Her more often than I do my children AND THAT IS SICK.
I hate having to wake up every fucking day and my mind starts racing and I don't know what to do with myself and I can't find any reason to be happy or a routine to escape the thoughts, it's just the same, every fucking day.
I have two children who love me unconditionally, but I'm in no fit state to look after myself let alone them. That cuts me to the quick - that I don't think of them utterly. I have one friend who took care of me, and while it is nice, it's in single digits. Plus, he has his own life and I can't be constantly baby sat by him simply because I can't look after myself at 40.
I had a can of Guiness earlier... the suicidal thoughts have been running around for around 48 hours now, and I can't keep watching the clock every hour, watching the day pass me by, unable to concentrate on anything other than stare at the PC and stare out into the Pit. I can't read, I can't watch TV, I get pissy and stressed out by my games, so my life consists of living inside my head, as someone put it 'feeling sorry for myself'.
So, I want to offer up a curse, but my bile is subsiding. I have an idea of a Christmas card to send out - on the front, the Chinese writing for Karma, with the intention of telling the person, if they have the mental capacity to understand the message 'what goes around, comes around', while inside the message 'may you live in interesting times' which is an ancient chinese curse, with a double edged meaning.
Seriously, I cannot bear the thought of waking up in another 20 years time after suffering another breakdown and thinking I've not moved on or got better in all that time, in fact, nothing has changed at all. Can you imagine that - that has to be living hell! Of not having any fucking joy of life....
...and when it comes down to it, I want to cry. For living life in a way that was determined by others so all I could be was loved... it's as simple as that. So fuck off if you find this all uncomfortable, I didn't ask you to read it, this is just how it is, right?
No, not just angry, I am in the grip of hate; pure, bilious, sickening hate. Anger & hate...
I am angry. Very angry. Furious, boiling rage, seething with rage, full of bilious spite at everything and everyone.
***I am angry with Her*** Her especially, for treating me like a cunt, after so called adult, mature conversations about whether to continue. Absolutely fucking furious rage at Her because she failed completely to figure out how to manage the relationship like an adult; how to treat people when it came down to it. Furious with Her because she thought so fucking little of me and found it so easy to just fucking run when her fears kicked in.
***I'm fucking angry with my ex-wife***, with her lack of any fucking emotion, lack of thoughtfulness, devoid of any concern for anyone but herself, of failing to show any gratitude, ever. Of, despite being told, how she cannot say 'thank you' for anything, let alone acknowledge that she may actually be wrong. I fucking hate her because she's never wrong, nothing is ever to do with her, she is always a fucking victim or bystander in events which she is involved in.
***I am fucking furious with my mother***, who's not shown a shred of interest in my well being since I've got over the SSRI incidents, who can't, won't even acknowledge I exist any more. I'm fucking angry with her that she spent 2 months going into hospital every fucking day to watch that cunt die and he was nothing but a bastard, and she did it out of a sense of duty, yet I don't figure in the scheme of things.
***I'm fucking angry at myself***, for as my mum put it, 'not developing a back bone' for letting that cunt destroy me, for trying to live to a set of morals and beliefs which have left me fucked over FOR FORTY FUCKING YEARS, time and time again. For, and get this, trying to be a good person (how delicious, the devil must be pissing himself) and never, ever having anything in return; no self respect, no love, no success in life. I fucking hate myself for being depressed. For never being able to climb out of this hole, away from the Pit, to be happy, to be able to go into denial and be a happy la la la person with friends and things that make me smile and happy and be able to push down and bury all my fears, andsupposedly enjoy life, people and be a happy person. I'm a social leper, I want to die.
*** I'm fucking angry at life*** for dealing me shit, for seemingly conspiring against me like tonight; went round ex-wifes to get house and duct-tape for car because suicidal thoughts have come back and figure largely in my list of things to do. Typically, my wife had gone to bed and locked up, AT HALF PAST FUCKING NINE!? Gimme a fucking break.
***I'm fucking angry at people*** who look and treat me like a social fucking leper. Angry with those fuckers who cannot and will not ever be able to comprehend what this is like, what depression does, how it eats me up. I'm fucking angry at them because they are scared shitless, gawping, slack jawed at the words 'I suffer from depression'. I fucking hate the fear in their eyes, their body language, when they try to act as if nothing is wrong, or they're cool with it, they're in control and mature, but still they squirm and their body language gives them away and I can see how uncomfortable they are around me. I'm fucking angry at people who whine and behave like a victim as if it were an olympic sport; who do fuck all to help themselves - here's where I can hate myself again, I'll just go stand in front of a mirror and tell myself I'm a cunt, get it over and done with.
***I'm fucking angry at whatever force it is up there*** for allowing this to happen to me, despite begging, pleading & praying for some retribution, to cure me of this curse of depression. Instead I have to carry this fucking illness like some poor fucker - Job? Who was pushed to the limit just for a fucking wager. That's sick and pathetic and contemptable. I'm fucking angry that I can't find joy, or peace with myself, or be content. I hate myself because, everyday I cannot get Her out of my head - that I judge my own shitty existence by Her. I hate myself, because I think of Her more often than I do my children AND THAT IS SICK.
I hate having to wake up every fucking day and my mind starts racing and I don't know what to do with myself and I can't find any reason to be happy or a routine to escape the thoughts, it's just the same, every fucking day.
I have two children who love me unconditionally, but I'm in no fit state to look after myself let alone them. That cuts me to the quick - that I don't think of them utterly. I have one friend who took care of me, and while it is nice, it's in single digits. Plus, he has his own life and I can't be constantly baby sat by him simply because I can't look after myself at 40.
I had a can of Guiness earlier... the suicidal thoughts have been running around for around 48 hours now, and I can't keep watching the clock every hour, watching the day pass me by, unable to concentrate on anything other than stare at the PC and stare out into the Pit. I can't read, I can't watch TV, I get pissy and stressed out by my games, so my life consists of living inside my head, as someone put it 'feeling sorry for myself'.
So, I want to offer up a curse, but my bile is subsiding. I have an idea of a Christmas card to send out - on the front, the Chinese writing for Karma, with the intention of telling the person, if they have the mental capacity to understand the message 'what goes around, comes around', while inside the message 'may you live in interesting times' which is an ancient chinese curse, with a double edged meaning.
Seriously, I cannot bear the thought of waking up in another 20 years time after suffering another breakdown and thinking I've not moved on or got better in all that time, in fact, nothing has changed at all. Can you imagine that - that has to be living hell! Of not having any fucking joy of life....
...and when it comes down to it, I want to cry. For living life in a way that was determined by others so all I could be was loved... it's as simple as that. So fuck off if you find this all uncomfortable, I didn't ask you to read it, this is just how it is, right?
No, not just angry, I am in the grip of hate; pure, bilious, sickening hate. Anger & hate...
I suffer from depression too, though mine is well medicated at the moment.
please don't do anything stupid *hugs*
Damn, you're hot girl!