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Things have not gotten better for the past 9 fucking years.Everything goes fucking wrong. And its just more struggle after another. I am fed up with shit going nowhere, I am fed up with opportunities slipping me by. I am fed up with shit going wrong. I am fucking fed up with this fucking life. People tell me to being fucking strong. What is the point of strength when you can't even help people or make them smile with their fucked up situation? Its like I am some sort of bystander, can't do shit. I wish I can die in my sleep. Get this shit over with. I wish I wasn't born. I wish I had never had joined NG. Fuck this depression, fuck this anxiety, and fuck this rage. I should have ended it all 2 years ago...the insides of my chest hurt. I'll need to catch some sleep.
Imagine, you cannot sleep, you cannot put art onto canvas, imagine the trauma, visiting you in your sleep, in your waking moments. Imagine crying a lot. Imagine being filled with anxiety, depression, uncontrollable rage. Imagine being reminded constantly of how much of a loser you are, how you are not a man with your humanity taken from you. Imagine trying to search for a place like NG to find friends and a place to be with creative like minded people. Imagine having that shit taken from you, and the community shitting on you. Imagine, contemplating suicide with 90 tablets of Tylenol and vodka and a series of counter measures just to ensure...that you die no matter what. Than of course the trolls come and fuck with you. To tell a person not to stress out and give them platitudes. No one understands nor gives a fuck, not...even...1 iota of a fuck. But it is understandable that no one wants to deal with this. But its fucked up beyond reason when...people are insencere with their help. Even more so when they are condescending. Its especially so...when they make it into a competition. For this kind of pain, I need something stronger than ibuprofen.
What is the point of hardwork if all I get is failure? What is the point of trying if all you get is ridicule and humiliation from your peers? What is the point of having a friend if they mock you and abandon you?...I don't know what to do. My mind is tempted with suicidal thoughts, I can't do anything right on the canvas, I feel exhausted and nauseated. Is this the end? Is this where it all ends? I don't have any hope of recovering. I don't know if I can make do with what I have.
My only solace left is to contemplate death. My anger, depression and anxiety has left me with nothing but just that. I'm left with no room. I have nothing left in this world to love or care enough to go through therapy or medication in order to stay in this world. I am filled with so much sadness and grief. Drawing use to bring me soo much joy. But now, only grief and heartache. Its difficult for me just to put pencil to paper. All I can do is routine practice. Mindless and worthless shit. I'll have think about it all again, one last time. Why I suffer? And is this my reward? And what if things don't get better?
This life is unbearable. I cannot go on like this. No matter the activity, whether it is gaming or art...these suicidal thoughts are right there....waiting for me. In my waking moments or sleep. I just feel so exhausted in my mind. I given up a lot of things just to pursue art as viable career. I don't know what more I can give just to keep going. In the back of my mind I can...see it. Feel it. The smell of blood. Its coppery...metallic....in large quantity. I dunno why my childhood is like that. Fear and violence. It didn't make me stronger...just very sad and tired. Its like was forsaken from the very beginning. I don't give a shit any more. My best is never good enough. I don't know how much longer I can keep going. Anyway, here is today's drawing. I'll try and do some more tomorrow if I am not tired. https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/dilandoubishop/rejected-pencil-4
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.