From: dirge-colley@proton.me   
      
   I want to die because I'm an absolute loser.   
      
   At the age of 20, I have still never been able to find a job. Not even a   
   minimum wage part-time job or an internship. Not even chain fast food   
   stores want to hire me to flip burgers. I can't drive and I don't have a   
   license because I'm too utterly horrified of getting behind the wheel of   
   a car. I hardly passed high school and I'm sinking and drowning in   
   college. Things I used to have a passion for, making collages, painting,   
   writing, I can't focus on anymore. Not even the most banal of things as   
   watching television.   
      
   Severe depression is something I've struggled with almost my entire   
   life. It's consumed my family and it began consuming me as a small   
   child. School was a struggle because no one liked me; I was strange.   
   Never talked to anybody except the other "weird" kids, never shut up   
   about the things I liked, was slower to understand things, and so   
   everyone made fun of me, belittled me, made me feel stupid. Kids used to   
   come up to me and ask me to play with them, only for them to make fun of   
   me and make me do humiliating things for their entertainment. Of course,   
   I never thought twice and thought about the fact that everyone was just   
   being mean. Social cues are not something that come naturally to me.   
      
   When I finally made some "friends" in middle and high school I felt   
   actually cared about me, it all came crashing down when I realized they,   
   too, had been making fun of me and bullying me the entire time we were   
   friends. They made group chats specifically to exclude me, were friends   
   with the people who outwardly hated me, and made sure I knew they   
   thought I was stupid. I blew up on all of them and haven't talked to   
   them since. That's a common pattern in my friendships. I always ruin   
   them and I always push everyone away.   
      
   I push them all away mainly because I just can't feel connection to   
   another human being. Absolutely nothing, no matter how close I feel to   
   them (and I feel so selfish saying this because I have a partner of 3   
   years and a lot of friends now), I just can't seem to have the   
   connection with them that they have with others. I can't feel that   
   little thing between me and another human being. They just elude me.   
   They elude me with how they want to live, how they aren't suffering all   
   the time, how they aren't aware of the awfulness of the world.   
      
   Growing up, I knew everyone had a best friend, and I spent my entire   
   childhood searching for a best friend. Each one I had turned out to   
   secretly hate me, only hanging out with me because a) I was useful to   
   them, b) their parents made them, c) they could make fun of me with   
   their real friends, or d) all of the above. It seemed like everyone had   
   a best friend except me. When I'd find someone I considered a "best   
   friend" I always got my heart and soul broken finding out they never   
   considered me their best friend, that they already had one. I wish I had   
   one person I could just tell everything to without any fear of judgment   
   (who's not a therapist, kind of sad to be friends with your therapist).   
   The closest I have is my partner, who I love very much and feel very   
   comfortable to, but something in me still keeps myself guarded.   
      
   Despite the past year being so good for me (making a lot of progress in   
   therapy, starting antidepressants for the first time, building my   
   relationships with others, etc.) it's all come crashing down. I feel   
   like I'm at rock bottom again. A few weeks ago I got SA'd by a man in my   
   town, but I didn't remember it at all until last week. I was inebriated,   
   of my own accord, and assaulted while out. The memory only came back to   
   me when something triggered a flashback of the memory, and my entire   
   world has come crashing down. Didn't help that I was off my meds for   
   several weeks when it happened, and I was very likely in a depressed,   
   dissociative haze as well, which could be another contributing factor to   
   my late recall. I'd never judge another person EVER for being assaulted;   
   I don't believe ANYONE deserves that. But I cannot stop judging MYSELF.   
   I feel disgusting. I feel horrible because I didn't fight back, I didn't   
   run, and I feel like I betrayed my partner even though they've reassured   
   me a million times over, like everyone else, that it's not my fault. But   
   I still feel shame and guilt and disgust for myself. I haven't been able   
   to eat much of anything the past week. Everything I put in my mouth   
   makes me want to puke because it feels like that guy's dick. Haven't   
   been able to sleep much at night, and during the day all I want to do is   
   sleep. The suicidal thoughts have come back after so long of not having   
   them due to my medications.   
      
   I don't think I'm meant to be happy. Any time there's a period of   
   happiness in my life, it always seems to be ripped away from under my   
   feet, and I remember how miserable I am and how miserable life is. It's   
   just constant suffering, constantly having to do things I don't want to   
   do (i.e. participate in the fascist/capitalist hellscape that is America   
   right now, having to do college to get a job, etc.), and constantly   
   being misunderstood or made fun of. No one takes me seriously. When I   
   walk into a room I know everyone is looking at me, thinking about me   
   (how weird I look/walk/talk/am), and judging me. I know what they think   
   about me; it's not hard to tell. I keep to myself and don't speak until   
   spoken to (for the most part) because I am acutely aware of how   
   obnoxious people find me. I can't seem to shut up about stupid, mundane   
   things. I'm a writer (working on a short story, a novel, and a   
   screenplay) but I'm likely to never get my work published. My dream   
   would be to be a full-time writer, working and living alone, but my work   
   isn't nearly good enough to be published. I'll likely never see the   
   light of day because I'm too scared to even post my work online for fear   
   I'll be made fun of and bullied for how awful it is. Or that someone   
   hates it so much they doxx me or stalk me.   
      
   So yes, this is an exhaustive list of (not even all) the reasons I want   
   to die. TLDR; no one would give a shit if I died because I'm an absolute   
   loser who's incapable of doing basic adult things, including making and   
   keeping friends. I'm a shit writer who's never going to get published   
   and no one is ever going to care to see my artwork because it's shit too.   
      
   --- SoupGate-DOS v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)