I hadn’t got the energy to write last week, I had an assignment to complete but I could barely get out of bed most days and was constantly worrying that I was going to fail. Fortunately I applied for an extension and have been given an extra week to finish it.

My mood has been up and down again, never above “just surviving” though. I still haven’t been able to discuss how I’ve been feeling with any medical professional though, my attempt to get a GP appointment was ruined. I phoned on Monday morning and they couldn’t give me one until the following Monday, which I couldn’t take anyway because I have to be at home to see my psychiatrist. I’m not sure I am up to telling him (the scary consultant) about my plans to kill myself, about how I ordered a lethal overdose quantity of pills. It’d be best to say something, I suppose, but I don’t think I can quite reveal all.

The last few days have left me wondering what exactly can be done. Obviously they can’t change what bothers me, my enormous lack of life experience, repulsive appearance and boring personality. All they can do is try to help me cope with being how I am. I’m not sure if “accepting” who I am will be part of what they want me to do, that’s what my mum wants me to do apparently, but I can never do that. I don’t want to do that. I can’t settle for being such a horrible, vile waste of space. I really would rather be dead than have to live like this for years. I’m sorry if this is controversial,  but it brings to mind “fat pride”. I can’t understand why people want me to adopt the same type of cognitive dissonance or delusion. I know I have problems, I know I’m an awful person but I’m not about to say “That’s how I am. Fuck you, I’m brilliant.” I can’t pretend everyone in the world has a problem except me, that would be delusional.

I tried talking to my sister but she tries to minimise what’s wrong with me. I’m tired of people saying “Oh I don’t have many friends either, most people don’t” but I simply don’t believe it. I can see hundreds of photos of her and her friends together on Facebook, she tells me stories about them, she has a boyfriend and recently went on holiday with him and some friends. That’s so far removed my situation that it’s not even funny.

To give an example, when I was at school, sixth form and college (and now university I suppose) whenever there was a holiday, I’d never see anyone else apart from my family. I wouldn’t go to anyone’s house or be invited anywhere. Nobody would come to see me. When I went back after summer, the people I hung around with (who bullied and psychologically tortured me) would belittle and laugh at me for being so reclusive and hiding away at home for months at a time.

Please tell me if this is a common experience, I’ve been mocked on a social anxiety forum for revealing this before so I doubt it, but people seem determined to convince me that I’m not unusual.  From age 11, when I started secondary school, I’ve had no-one I could call a proper friend. I saw no-one outside of school. Every day I’d go home and do things by myself or with my family. At weekends I would do the same, holidays were the same. I’ve never been out on Friday and Saturday night, never been to a party, until this year I’d never been to a “club” (it wasn’t even a proper one really), never had a girlfriend, never kissed anyone, never held a girls hand, never asked a girl out. I’ve never been on holiday apart from with my family.

I can’t help but be depressed by this horrific waste of life. Maybe I don’t deserve to have been so cruelly deprived of a life, at this point I can’t see why I’d deserve anything other than bad things. In any case, I feel massive crushing jealousy towards everyone I see around who gets to do these things. Anyone who has a life, people who have friends, people who have someone that they can actually talk to beyond saying “Hello, how are you?” which is the limit of my relationship with anyone. I wish I had a friend who I could call and talk to, even that seems beyond the realms of possibility.

People say that it takes time, but I’m 24. Twenty four years old and I don’t have the social skills or life experience of the average 12 year old. Some people tell me that I can learn, but how do you do that? Normal people get that kind of thing out of the way when they are younger. They have friends going through similar things. I can’t imagine many people in their mid twenties are still worrying because they don’t know how to kiss, not that I’ll ever have to worry about putting that into practice.  It’s pathetic to even think about it.

I’m so ridiculously immature, no psychiatrist or therapist can change that, and that is one of the main reasons I am so depressed.

Taking a break

I feel like I’m going crazy, so many thoughts are swirling through my brain and I can’t keep my mind off the bad things. The pills are tempting me but I can’t go without writing a proper goodbye but I’m too tired and drained to do that.

I’m taking a break from writing here for a while until I can get a handle on things.

Harsh Truth

Last night I was in a fog, depression had taken over and I couldn’t see past it. I don’t know if anyone else feels like this and whether its a recognised thing or not, but I seem to experience two kinds of sadness/despair. Last night I couldn’t think beyond what depression was making me feel, but in reality there was still a glimmer of relief there which is probably why I didn’t go through it. A little part of me wanted to believe there was a chance, that maybe my thoughts are distorted. Right now though I am thinking more clearly and I’ve realised how much of a hard situation I’m in. Maybe it is possible to change enough to be normal and accepted, if is right then maybe people can change enough. Would it make me happy though? I have no idea because if I was to change that much, I simply wouldn’t be “me” any more. There are some things I can’t change, no matter how well I dressed for example, I’d never ever be able to reach “average looking” status or even just plain ugly.

It’s obvious now that there’s no way I’m ever going to be able to function in the world as I am but I don’t know if I can or want to change enough to make it possible. A feeling of overwhelming dread, fear and sickness rushes over me when I read the things on that site. It’s not the usual feel-good nonsense that people try to tell you, it’s the truth. People don’t like loners, they don’t like losers or ugly people, they don’t like serious people. You have to be childish and act like a drunken idiot. Of course I knew this all along but no-one would admit it to me. I can’t stomach trying to change myself into that, I feel physically ill.

This doesn’t even begin to cover how bad I felt having read this site (I promise this isn’t a dig against the commenter who pointed it out to me, i’m glad you did). I just want to die right now. Every page on there just serves to highlight how much of a broken, idiotic disgusting and useless shell of a person I am. I have no existing contacts to draw on, I’m the exact opposite of everything you should be and do to be socially acceptable.

I am finding it hard to express just how cut up and defeated I feel. I’m utterly sick and revolted by myself, I hate every fibre of my being. I’m too cowardly to even do the honourable thing and instead just mope around here and hope for sympathy and brief social contact with strangers on the internet. I don’t deserve to live, I wish I could never have been born. It’s too hard to pretend I’m ok any more, but what can I do? If I mess my university course up by telling the doctors then I’ll have absolutely no reason to go on, that is all that keeps me getting out of bed most mornings. All I can do is try to get up the nerve to kill myself or carry on upsetting and lying to everyone around me. I don’t know anyone outside my family well enough to discuss things with them and my family get too upset, for obvious reasons. Nobody wants the reclusive flatmate you barely see to knock on your door in tears and say they want to kill themselves. I’m alone and stuck.

Too Scared

I got too scared about my first plan and I went out walking into the night. I found myself at the bridge I had planned to jump off a few months ago but they have put barriers either side now so it’s impossible to climb over. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it so now I’m just sitting here shaken and helpless, for once I haven’t broken down into tears but I feel weak like I do after that happens. I wish I had someone to hug me, to give me some comfort but there is no-one.


pain weighing down coping resources

I’ve tried everything that I’m supposed to do. I’ve had a month long back and forth email conversation with Samaritans, tried to distract myself, talked to my family. A few months ago I went to the hospital of my own accord and told them I felt like I was in danger of killing myself and they spoke to me for a while and sent the crisis team round afterwards. None of this has changed anything in the long run. The problems are still there and they are deep lying and in some cases insurmountable.

The time has come when I can’t stop thinking to myself “Why bother?” I don’t think the pain is worth enduring any more. Life is no fun at all for me, I get no enjoyment from anything and I see no future worth looking forward to. Everything from now onwards will be a downward spiral of misery, loneliness and ever-increasing mockery and disgust from others.

What reasons do I have to carry on? I can’t think of any particularly good ones. Sparing my mum the grief is all I can think of that is stopping me right now but I don’t know how much longer that will keep my alive. Is saving her that pain worth keeping myself miserable and utterly despondent for however long she has to live? I don’t know, maybe for once in my life I will be selfish. I have no friends to leave behind, my funeral will be an empty place. Whenever you hear about a young persons untimely death on TV, people always say “He was so full of life and always laughing, everyone loved him”. If anyone was asked about me they’d probably think “He was so withdrawn and sullen, I was in his class for 10 years and he never said a word” before lying with a similar cliched load of rubbish. I can’t say anyone’d be surprised, I’ve always been “that guy” wherever I’ve studied, lived or worked.

I’m getting tired of thinking about the future. It’s a black hole of pathetic loneliness for me. I don’t want to rot away in some single bedroom flat, holing myself up in there day after day like I have done for the past 20 odd years. There are people on the social anxiety forums who are in their mid thirties and forties who are in that position, some of them still living with their parents and I can foresee exactly that same thing happening to me. I can’t live that life, I won’t let the people who laughed and tortured me have their theories proven right. I’ll take eternal nothingness over that.

The jealousy I experience every day is getting too much. When I went to the arboretum in my home town, there were lots of people around my age there sitting together in groups and just chatting or reading. It makes me want to cry because I’d love so much to be able to do such simple (and probably mundane to most) things. Instead I walked alone, trying to avoid looking like a drug dealer or homeless crazy person. Being an outcast is intolerably painful because there’s no end to it. The only solace I ever got was becoming a hermit and never seeing anyone or what I was missing out on. I can’t take that any more though, that was the cause of my first suicidal break down. I think it was 18 months with no human contact other than my parents and sister.

What triggered my break down was seeing a documentary about older virgins and a guy who decided at 23 (now younger than I am) to pay an escort to have sex with him. I realised how pathetic and what a monster people think of such losers like him. He was a joke, the whole point of the program seemed designed to mock and make a spectacle of these weirdos who were so undesirable they had to pay someone to like them. I’m not proud of this but after about a decade since puberty and having no experience whatsoever (I don’t think I even started a conversation with a girl when I was in secondary school, I can’t remember ever doing it anyway) kind of gets to you.. I considered doing the same thing briefly. The more I thought about it, the worse idea it became of course. Beyond the moral ramifications, I realised that even a woman who was being paid would probably refuse to come within 2 feet of me.

I don’t want this post to make me sound like some kind of sex crazed maniac, I’m far from it. I think humans have a need to express affection and love though. I need which I have never and will never get to fulfill. I’m far, far to messed up in the head and monstrously ugly to ever know what it’s like to hold another person close, despite how much I crave it. The agonising pain of seeing every girl I have ever liked go off with someone else, never realising I existed will always be there. I have no redeeming qualities and it would be delusional to think otherwise.

It’s been a long time now and I’ve given a lot of thought to it. It’s not a rash decision, I think tonight may be the night. I don’t feel like crying, just numb. I have the pills, I just need time alone.

Mixed Feelings

I came back home today and found a letter from the psychotherapy place, they’ve offered to put me on the waiting list for cognitive behavioural therapy but couldn’t tell me how long it’ll take until I can see someone more specifically than “several months”. I’d hoped that it would be sooner than that, although I suppose I’m lucky to get the opportunity at all without having to pay for it. By the time it starts I’ll probably have finished university for the summer, which puts me in the bizarre situation of being back at home but not being around anyone who I know.

It’s going to be difficult to make any progress when I don’t even have to opportunity for any socialising, at least when I’m at uni I could see and say a few words to a person I know every day if I wanted to. When I’m at home, there’s nobody except my family, who I have no problem talking to. I dumbfounded my psychiatrist by telling him this last time, I wouldn’t accept that there was no-one I could ring up and arrange to meet. “No friends? How about a friend of the family?” Nope, sorry doc. I’ve told them this before, I’m sure they don’t listen or they think I’m exaggerating. I really sat at home and didn’t speak to anyone outside my family for months and months. Nobody wants to know me, it’s obvious to me why that is, but they either don’t listen or don’t care (probably both). The place where I live doesn’t help things either, there is literally nothing but houses around here. There isn’t even a shop any more, you have to walk for about half an hour to get to another housing area where there is a Spar. Hardly a vibrant and inspiring place. The local town is a rough area and pretty much consists of £1 shops and bookies. If you tried to strike up a conversation with someone there you’d probably get knifed.

It’s very disheartening to think about how long this would all take if I try to stick with it. I’ve already been waiting over a year since I realised CBT is what I need and it’ll probably be another 6 months before I’d even get to make a start on things. Another package arrived today as well, a way out. I’m not sure how long I can stop myself from using it. I walked around the house with a suicide note in my pocket for 4 days last week, distraction only works for so long.


I’m sorry for all the attention seeking, I don’t have any other way of communicating with people though. I wish I had someone I could talk to about things, someone I felt comfortable with. Nobody wants to hear what I have to say though, nobody wants to hear about my pathetic life and suicidal intentions. I suppose I must still want someone to talk me out of it since I’m still around, but of course no-one can. There’s no way out of the mess I’ve made for myself, nobody has any answers or anything practical to tell me. My mum gets upset when I tell her the truth, last time she told me I shouldn’t talk to “those people” (the psychiatrist presumably) about what I told her otherwise they’ll think that I have “a persecution complex” and lock me up. She has no idea what she’s talking about of course and it’s probably incredibly upsetting to hear your son say he doesn’t want to live any more and doesn’t see a point in his life. That’s not helpful for me to hear though.

This isn’t something I can snap out of. I can’t undo 12 or so years of behaviour and magically learn everything that I should have picked up over that time right away. Even if I woke up tomorrow without any anxiety, I would still have no idea how to act. I feel like screaming at people who try to help me “What should I do?” I want to put a normal person in my body and watch them to see what I should do because I literally have no idea. I think they mostly just want me to stop looking sad for their own benefit, so they have one less thing to bother them.

Nobody seems to want to admit the truth about how messed up I am, psychiatrist look at me in disbelief when I tell them about my life and act incredulous. Samaritans are no help to me, I’m fed up of hearing the same old thing over and over. I’ve tried joining clubs and societies but nobody wants to hang around with a hideously freakish looking loner who doesn’t have anything to talk about. I feel like screaming it at the top of my voice over and over because they just won’t listen. I’m sick and tired of the people who are supposed to help me failing to acknowledge this. Maybe there just is no solution and I really am screwed. It certainly feels like that now. 

What should I do? Anyone? I’m getting to the end of what I can cope with. I’m sitting here in my room while the others are getting ready to go out, the contrast between how I and they feel couldn’t be much greater. I hear them talk about how much they love uni and are having the time of their lives and people who’ve been round here urging us to make the most of it because it’s so wonderful. I can’t help but wonder how that must feel, to actually enjoy life. It’s a long time since I did, 13 years since I was actually happy, before I became sad and then massively depressed. Life’s a lot easier when you are a child of course. I don’t think I’m ever going to enjoy life again, not least because I doubt mine will last much longer. I wonder what purpose I’m serving by just hanging on here, just about making it to classes and barely managing to stop the interrogations from my mother about how I’m feeling. It’s a mammoth effort, but for what? I’m lacking a reason to go on, nobody except my family cares about me. I wish they didn’t care so that I could just get things over with. 

It must be hard to imagine so I can’t really blame them, but most people have no idea what it’s like to have no friends. I get so jealous I feel like crying when I walk the streets alone like a homeless person, seeing people out with their friends. It must be nice to not have to eat alone every day, to have someone to walk to class with and to not have to sit alone. To be able to talk to someone about things, about anything. To ask for their advice. If you want to go somewhere, to not have to do it alone and look like a weirdo. I could list a million things, nothing makes you feel like such a loser as constantly being alone and knowing that there are horrible, mean, spiteful people out there who manage to convince people to spend time with them but I am even more dislikeable than that. 

Tracked my order today, sent 17th February. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to resist the temptation once they arrive. I keep finding myself eying up buildings wondering if the roof is accessible and if they are tall enough to provide a fatal drop. I’d rather not leave it up to chance though, I curse the low-rise cities I live in.

Online Social Networking Harms Health

From The BBC:

People’s health could be harmed by social networking sites because they reduce levels of face-to-face contact, an expert claims.

…He also says that evidence suggests that a lack of face-to-face networking could alter the way genes work, upset immune responses, hormone levels, the function of arteries, and influence mental performance.

This, he claims, could increase the risk of health problems as serious as cancer, strokes, heart disease, and dementia.

Wonderful. Websites are the only place where I get any kind of “social interaction” with people at all. Since I got back to university on Monday, I’ve said hello to two of my flatmates and asked how they are… and that’s it. Those are the only words I’ve spoken to people this week. If I was planning on being alive long enough for it to affect me, I’d be pretty worried about my physical health if this article has any truth behind it.

I’m not sure how relevant it is for the rest of the population, certainly people who I know of who use things like Facebook don’t seem to have any trouble socialising face-to-face with people. It hasn’t replaced them going out or anything.

I often worry about the mental effects of such long term isolation that I have partly enforced on myself. I can’t really find any relevant information on the internet, but I’m sure it’s unhealthy to be detached from society for so long. I don’t think I will ever feel a part of it even if I lived to be 100. I’ve never felt accepted as part of a group or even considered an “equal” to people who I’m around since I was a child. I’m working on another post about school and how my SA developed at the moment but can’t seem to concentrate very well.

Intrusive Thoughts

I’m finding it hard to keep my mind on anything productive at the moment. Last night I couldn’t sleep even with pills because a thread which I read on an SA forum kept going through my mind. The person who posted it asked if you could see how your life turned out, would you choose to opt out and not have been born, I certainly would. I can’t think of any reason why I’d want to go through all that I’ve been through and not get any reward for it.

It’s a scary thought, but one which I can’t take my mind off at the moment. What if this is all there is for me? Absolutely nothing in my life makes being such a useless, pathetic and hideous person worth it to me. It’s not like I can think “Well at least I have friends” or think back to happy times with people, because I’ve never had any. Even the most optimistic (and unrealistic) person would be hard pressed to see a decent future for me, given how badly I’ve done at life so far. I know I’m always harping on about it but I really can’t stand the thought of always being alone and disliked. If nobody has ever found me attractive and I’ve been single (not just that, but actively mocked and derided about how undesirable I am) for 24 years, what chance is there of that changing? I’ve already seen from various data and graphs that I’m in a tiny minority of people, never having been in any kind of relationship at this age. The amount of people that get past that and eventually have normal lives must be infinitesimally small, I expect most of the people in the same situation as me are severely disabled or disfigured.

I really am trying to keep my mind off the bad things but they just keep creeping back. I overhear people talking, someone in one of my lectures asked another guy if he still played World of Warcraft (a time consuming online game, luckily I have not succumbed to its clutches) and followed up with “So you still have no social life then?” which of course resulted in much laughter. He then suggested that the guy should jump off a bridge. Hearing this kind of thing doesn’t help me, especially since I was planning on doing exactly that a few days ago 🙁 I hear people who don’t want to go out on a particular night, despite the fact that they are always usually out all the time get called “antisocial bitch”, what must people think of me?

Hanging On

Trying to stay in positive (or at least not suicidal) mood. Today went ok, just had a workshop and a lecture to attend at either end of the day so I kept fairly busy. I managed to say hello to a couple of people here which is good, I suppose. Had a nice surprise in the form of a letter from the head of the computing department here at uni congratulating on my grades so far this year. Above almost everything else, I’ve tried not to let my mood (swinging from medium to terrifyingly low) affect my course, I spent so long unemployed and wishing I had projects to do and I really don’t want to lose out on this second chance that I’ve been afforded. Somehow I’ve managed to attend almost every lecture and workshop, aside from one week when I couldn’t get out of bed and I missed a couple. Certainly an improvement from sixth form and college where I’d frequently give in to the anxiety. It helps massively that I am only a short walk away instead of 30 minutes bus ride of course, and that being ignored is favourable to being made fun of all the time.

I’m still kicking about the idea of volunteering somewhere in an attempt to perhaps meet a few new people and practice talking more often. I know it’s no guarantee of those things but anything is better than whiling away the time doing nothing. Going to have a look into what is available in the area tomorrow.

Unfortunately my photograph-a-day plan has been disrupted but I did take one today:


You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.
You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Sadly it’s only an Ibuprofen rather than an escape from this reality. I realised today that my flatmates were only 9 when The Matrix came out… Damn that makes me feel old.