Gruebrush
Member
Weird name for a topic. Never mind that, let me begin my story.
When I look back what I have done with my life, I feel this overwhelming feeling of horrible emptiness and detachment. Was that me? Or someone else?
I am an old soul. I have never identified myself with my age group. I often played alone as a child. But I had some friends, very few, but some.
But now as I look back into my late childhood, and early youth, I feel this bitter black bile in me. I was bullied, isolated (even more) and humiliated during these years, and this left me with a sense of insecurity when I moved with my parents when I was 14. I voluntarily left myself out again from the group, sneered at them with false sense of pride, thinking highly of myself.
What a fool I was.
When I was 16, I was diagnosed with unipolar depression, and I have struggled with suicidal thoughts daily since then. It is not so much a question of 'why die', rather than 'why live'.
Now I'm left with this bitter grudge against myself, and towards my peers(hah!), as I think of what could have been. Prime of my youth, WASTED! When I hear of joys of others, I just bite my teeth together, they only remind me what I lost, and never will get back again.
If I only had had one trusted friend...
...but I think it is too late now. There was a time when there was nothing else that I wanted than a trusted companion, an ally against others. But not anymore. I think I would not know what to do with one if such thing even existed.
And I take great comfort from that thought.
"As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself — so like a brother, really — I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of execration."
A. Camus, The Stranger
When I look back what I have done with my life, I feel this overwhelming feeling of horrible emptiness and detachment. Was that me? Or someone else?
I am an old soul. I have never identified myself with my age group. I often played alone as a child. But I had some friends, very few, but some.
But now as I look back into my late childhood, and early youth, I feel this bitter black bile in me. I was bullied, isolated (even more) and humiliated during these years, and this left me with a sense of insecurity when I moved with my parents when I was 14. I voluntarily left myself out again from the group, sneered at them with false sense of pride, thinking highly of myself.
What a fool I was.
When I was 16, I was diagnosed with unipolar depression, and I have struggled with suicidal thoughts daily since then. It is not so much a question of 'why die', rather than 'why live'.
Now I'm left with this bitter grudge against myself, and towards my peers(hah!), as I think of what could have been. Prime of my youth, WASTED! When I hear of joys of others, I just bite my teeth together, they only remind me what I lost, and never will get back again.
If I only had had one trusted friend...
...but I think it is too late now. There was a time when there was nothing else that I wanted than a trusted companion, an ally against others. But not anymore. I think I would not know what to do with one if such thing even existed.
And I take great comfort from that thought.
"As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself — so like a brother, really — I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of execration."
A. Camus, The Stranger
