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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.
I feel as though I have lost my purpose. I gave up a lot of things to pursue my dream in art. I feel this life is not worth living, not worth fighting. So many setbacks, so many problems confounding my mind. I know I sound like a broken record. I know I should look for help. I know this is my fault. All I can do is just document and write down my thoughts. Its all I can do now. Until I can make a decision.
I just have an incredibly hard time to distract myself from these suicidal thoughts. Its frustrating and depressing. Every day I feel like crying. Everyday I am reminded how much of a loser I am. With my humanity taken from me, my manhood taken from me. It sucks to be alive like this. This is not a life worth living. This is not a life worth fighting for. And to salvage a life from this is soo meager. Its like I have ended with less than what I started with. Its like I am abandoned. No friends, no family. And in turn it distracts me from being productive in art. I have been fighting this for more than 3 years. I contemplate this too much. Researching The method, the timing, the one to sure to succeed. As for help, I don't have money or insurance. My state medicare won't help me in medical or therapy. All I can do is sleep. Even then the nightmares come. I'll have to think about what to do. I'll have to search a way. In the end, don't be surprised if things turn out the way they do. And don't bother feeling sorry for me.Just carry on as usual.
I don't know how much longer I can keep going. Like a broken record, these memories and dreams keep re-looping in my mind. Its difficult to find anything to distract me from those thoughts. These thoughts are distracting me from my pursuit of art. I feel like I am just wasting my time. Its been more than 3 years of this...I feel like I am just stalling the inevitable. Nevermind the constant difficulty in finding work in this field. I'm just...saddened by the thought that I can't explore art anymore. Saddened that I can't dream anymore. Anyway, I hope you all take care of yourself.
This constant state of severe depression is..insufferable. I feel like there is not much to live for. And..not much worth living for. Its been on my mind for too long. These goddamn memories..always creeping up on me. I feel this is the beginning of the end. Art might have to take the back seat. Not like my art was worth or meant anything anyway.