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This is more for my supporters, followers and....friends. The thoughts that overwhelemd my mind was...my uncle's suicide, my molestation by the hands of my grandfather, my many failures at an art career. Also...My thoughts on committing suicide. I researched the methods, but timing and opportunity has eluded me, time and time again. In all those times, I tried to keep myself busy with art. But in actuality, my head was only above the water, just barely. And no, I will not seek help anymore, I will not see a doctor/therapist. I don't care anymore. I write this, so that my supporters, followers and...friends do not feel betrayed. But now you know. Mental health was always a problem in my family. My mom attempted suicide before I was born (I don't know the details). My uncle committed suicide. And no, I don't want to talk to anybody anymore. I appreciate what friends or followers I have that tried to help me. But I feel I can't talk about this anymore, I don't want my supporters, followers or friends involved anymore. In all honesty, I dunno why people befriend me or follow me.I don't want anymore messages about "talking about it" or seeking "help". It feels like a losing battle. To fight these thoughts, All I can do is just draw to keep myself busy. I'll upload occasionally or frequently depending if I have the energy anymore.
My mind is overwhelmed with depression and anxiety. I don't have anymore hope. My will to live is just not there. I can't find anymore answers and I can't find anymore help. I dunno why. All I can think about is destroying all my stuff and walk into incoming traffic. I once was able to find peace in art. Now I can't find any peace, not even in my sleep. Day in, Day out, I gotta pretend I'm okay. All I can do is routine drawings for the time being.
..... One person tells me
"Only cowards commit suicide"
"no wonder you are alone"
Another Tells me:
"Its a disease that tells them what to do"
And one would Comment"
"My friend's mother bore it through her whole life with dignity, that no one could take away from her. So, are you gonna be weaker than a girl?"
............What the fuck do these fucking people know? How the fuck do these fucking faggots speak on behalf of people who lost someone to that?............Another fucking faggot would tell me to keep my chin up........and another would tell me, things will be okay. Okay? Someone kill themself in your family and you remember in your childhood their blood, and the family screaming and crying and grieving.........okay?..........Those are my memories. I share this shit, and I get fucking shitted on. And can you blame me? Thats why I don't believe I have friends or family anymore. This anger and depression is killing me from the inside out. I'm just becoming a former shadow of myself. I think I lost a long time ago. It makes Inktober not worthwhile at all. A lot less enjoyable.
"Only cowards commit suicide"
"no wonder you are alone"
Maybe I deserve to be alone. Maybe I do deserve to suffer like this. This insult just...makes me depressed. Any other insult that isn't true would annoy me or piss me off. When you lose someone to that....I think they felt alone this whole entire time. I think...the greatest difficulty for them was....to think of a way to say "I'm sorry and goodbye" at the same time. I think the other difficulty was to let the people they left behind understand. In my dreams I remember my uncle in his coffin. He didn't look natural. Sometimes in these dreams, his eyes open up as he lay in the coffin. The other dreams are where I wake up alone in the house. Empty. Anyway, here is today's sketch. I wanted to ink it but...I don't have energy anymore. Feel like I don't have enough time. I need sleep
My depression deepens as well as my anger. To the point that I...can't recognize myself. I catch myself either yelling and ranting at unseen enemies in my thoughts. Or deeply depressed with anxiety. I just feel very tired. I see flashbacks of pain sometimes. The thoughts worsen to terrible ideas at times. Its madness.
Yesterdays meltdown in chat makes me wonder...was it misplaced anger? Or something more? Since the chat incident, my arms are numb and I am still filled with anxiety and rage. You all know about the trauma that is slowly killing me. What you should know is that I once had a trusted friend. An old friend from the old days. I told her what bothered me and what was driving me insane. And she had to open her stupid fucking mouth and told my sisters. Of all the shame and sins I did not want my sister or any of my family to know. I never wanted to hurt them. Somehow, my sister felt responsible. You see I never got along with my sisters. But they knew how to say hateful words to hurt me. Sister number one sez " Your a shit brother, a shit man and a shit uncle anyway, so don't even bother to come and see your nephews and niece." Thats the kind of hurt I'll never recover from.Then of course sister number 2 said to me was "Your fucking stupid and loser like Dad!". At that time I still struggled finding employment. I spent more time alone. I had no results to show and they were being impatient. Had to be 5 or 6 years ago. But I showed no emotion and remain stoic at that time. I didn't want them to see.
Fast forward 2017, my sister wants to help after hearing what was wrong. She apologizes soo many times for those words and wants to help. But then she shared her pain. From her words, she says that her firstborn son was a product of rape. And she kept that secret for a long time. And then she informed that our younger sister attempted suicide back in 2015. Back then, I hated them soo goddamn much. Back then, I was failing at getting a career. I don't know how much I can cry. I don't know how much I can hate. My molestation, my uncle's suicide, my sister's rape, my other sister's suicide attempt. All came full circle earlier this year. My constant absence in my art thread, my lack of sleep. Suicidal dreams. Flash backs. The ridicule from other NG users. To be called a "Tumblrite" and "train wreck". I don't know what human being can take this abuse. I don't know how much I can hate and cry. I wish this was all a work of fiction. But all these problems just come all the same time. I write these things because I want to explain my unusual habits on NG. I never wanted to cause trouble on NG. Its not that I lacked interest or hated the community. I can't explain right now. Its just too many emotions going through my mind. Maybe I am just a weak man going through something that other people can handle with ease.
Skip here: Anyway, I am trying to forget my problems as long as I can in a short period of time. I have been preparing for Inktober Fest for 1 year now. 350 ml of Pilot drafting ink, Deleter pen holder, g nibs, brushes, and 500 sheets of 70 lb paper. Soon, it will be fucking WAR! October 1st is the start date for Inktober fest. Here is the details: http://mrjakeparker.com/inktober
"Only cowards commit suicide"
"no wonder you are alone"
How the fuck does someone in chat piss me off beyond fucking reason. And then say shit like "I thought we were internet buddies"
Anyone who have lost family to suicide will not find this shit funny in any way. Low blow after low blow. I can't breathe and my hands are shaking. You see... My Uncle killed himself when I was 8. He blew his brains out. I was there at the after math. I remember the smell of his blood. I remember how cold his blood was and how thick it was. It pooled throughout his room. The smell. They carried him to the ambulance, with a blanket draped over him. The school bus dropped me off right at the scene. A memory that will never leave my mind. That cold blood brought a chill in my mind. I knew what death was at that time. So this is what it has to be.
No mercy or compassion. No humanity. No charity. I never found these at home nor with my family. My so called fucking friend "Collio" has made it clear. It is clear. It is very clear. Crystal. I tell you guys these things because I have nothing to hide. And nothing hurts more than the truth. I don't know if my uncle was a coward. I do know I am alone because of my memories of being molested. Remembering my uncles death. I push people away because I fear I might have to do the same as my uncle. I think he did it because of the pain. What I would give to sate my anger. I have things taken from me. Insulted. And this asshole who is part of this community say shit like this. I am beyond help at this point. I can't breathe and my hands are shaking. Carry on everyone. Ignore all this. These are the words of a loser after all.
2017 is almost over. One year of work meant nothing. All that effort and patience and resources, for what? The thoughts are getting worse. The anger and depression is getting severe. I don't know what the point is anymore. I don't see a future. I don't see a dream. I don't see hope. I don't see happiness. All these fucking years I have been pursuing this dream and new life. Nothing. Thats my thoughts for today. I'm gonna get some sleep. Try to draw, throw away all my old art.
The stress, the trauma, the depression, and the uncontrollable anger combined with the pressure to succeed...has taken its toll. No wonder my colleagues and friends no longer make contact or affiliate with me. I did the best I could with the tools I had and the current shitty circumstance I had. And yet, my best wasn't good enough. Wasn't good enough for anybody. My family members were right. I'm a loser. Just like my father. I only had the best intentions. It hurts to be snubbed by your peers. I wish I wasn't alive. I'll have to ponder what do. Till then, I'll have to jot down my thoughts on these journals and try to summon some strength to draw again.
What the fuck. Troisynx thinks I chose this. I did not want to be molested by my grandfather. I did not want to see my uncle commit suicide. I did not choose any of this shit. And she fucking thinks I can get over this shit like its the Goddamn Common fucking cold? She fucking insults me and act superior. How the fuck does that help me? One person tells me to exercise, another tells me to keep strong. How the fuck any of this shit will get back the time I lost? How will this shit end the nightmares and memories? Meanwhile I struggle and fail. And everyone else just points and laughs. I struggle with these suicidal thoughts for the past 3 years. And all I wanted to do was do art. With all these problems there is no way I can be inspired to do it. Fuck this life! I am fucked up to the point that no one passing by would even bother to piss on me. God fucking dammit! If only I had a fire arm. I end this shit here and now. No more talk and no more wait. sigh. I wish I could throw all this away and never look back. Abandon this life and live worry free. I have to still contemplate it. I feel so tired. I feel old. I think I need some sleep. I think I need more time to think.