Soul Cancer

I have almost forgotten how bad depression can get, how it takes you over like an intangible parasite, whispering stuff to you that makes you want to die. And the more often it happens, the more it becomes clear it’s just a natural reaction to the inevitable. Not a disease.

There was a scary moment when I felt that there was nothing anymore that could hold me back from finishing it. I can’t imagine that people care. I don’t feel capable of accepting or absorbing love. The few manifestations I doubt, I don’t understand, I blame on the possible delusion of people. I can’t see why. And I feel so shredded, so mauled, in such agony and despair that I don’t give a fuck because what right do they have to keep me alive when I’m feeling like this? For their own sake, not for mine? And then that makes me laugh, because that sounds like they would care whether I die or not, and how full of myself am I?

People say suicide is a selfish act, but that is debatable. Stopping someone from a mercy death just so you don’t have to feel sad or deal with the loss is selfish.

Yes, I guess that makes me pro-euthanasia. What a German thing to say.

Does Dad love me? Does he have any choice when he is my father? Isn’t it ingrained in him to love his offspring? If it isn't voluntary, not for my merits, but because I am his biological extension, does it have anything to do with me or who I am? Wouldn't true love be the one that allows me to die so I don't have to feel like this anymore?

And mother? If not even she could love me, then something must be wrong with me? Then there must be a reason why I’m not loveable? If all I ever inspired was bullying and laughing? Or nothing at all. Being ignored by those I thought to be my friends?

I’ve been sinking into isolation. I’m exhausted. I’m drained. Even when I smile and laugh, I feel deflated and fake. I have been trying so hard to stay in touch with people, to remind them I’m their friend, and I feel pathetic, like a beggar, nothing ever seems to come back.

I don’t feel I have the right to cry out, because I don’t want people to love me out of charity, out of obligation. I don’t want them to resent me, and I feel that I have already started to make them resent me. I can feel them backing away, and it makes my despair grow to unbearable, but my panic drives them even further away. I have nothing to keep them but begging, and I hate myself for it.

Drugs. What do they do other than making me not care?

Therapy. All they teach you is a few techniques to brainwash yourself into something that looks like self-esteem, but all it does is make me feel like I’m kidding myself. It doesn’t change the fact that if people really don’t give a flying fuck, that must mean that I am not loveable. It is nothing but logical.

What’s left there for me other than to feel that I constantly want to smash my stupid ugly face into a wall?

What's the fucking point?