Journal Entry 2

1/16/13

So once again, I feel that something is amiss in my life. For some reason, I just feel so bitter right now. I’ve felt hollow before, but…this is different. I’m not sure if I would consider myself miserable right now, but there’s definitely something that I’m not getting. I’ve thought about things, but I’m not sure why I’m feeling this way. I know that I’m depressed still, I’ve been depressed my entire life. I sort of feel like nothing has changed since I went into the service; one of the biggest reasons I joined was because I thought that everyone here would be fine without me. Growing up I was never really dotted upon; I got into trouble, and I got blamed for a lot of things. I became closed up at a very young age, never really speaking to anyone about anything. I read all the time, trapped in the words and pages of the books that I read. They became my life; they became who I am; the hero or heroine in the book; that was me. I hated my life; I never tried to do anything about it but escape. In school, I was lower than the low. Sure I tried to communicate with the other kids, but to no avail, I’d always be rebuked for something. I got along only with a few, other outcasts like me. I never really had anything growing up, and neither did those I could call friends. My family thought that I was mentally unstable; handicapped; slow. I sort of took it to heart then; I seriously thought that they were right, that I was a retard, and I would amount to nothing in life. I was the kid that they just put off to the side and dealt with later. I guess that’s why I got into trouble a lot more than my brother and sister. I sought attention, but all the wrong ways. I tried smoking with a neighborhood kid when I was young. Probably around 6 or 7; and I felt like I was dying. That one single moment, I seriously thought that I was finally going to make my family happy by them not having to worry about me anymore. I guess I’m still running away from it all. I feel detached a lot of the times. Like I don’t know why I’m doing the things that I’m doing. I seriously thought that I had been cursed by God; that that was the life that I was meant to live; a painful existence to let others know that things could be worse for them. I thought that I was teaching the others a lesson with my life. I saw others as happy as could be, but then I would look in the mirror at school and I would see a failure. I saw what others saw in me. I never thought that I knew pain, but…I knew it all too well. Too well to the point that I would cry at night, until the tears stopped and my heart felt heavy as a lead ball, my energy sapped from me, my soul empty as could be, and then the dark embrace of sleep would take me, wishing that it was really death that was taking me, and that I would never wake to the existence that I lead. I deeply remember feeling like a piece of trash in life. I would just sit unnoticed in the back of class or just sit and read my books. No one would notice, or they would notice and instantly just write me off as a “nobody”, a kid who didn’t matter. I’m sure there were some kids that thought that I would be the first to die off if there were ever an accident. That didn’t matter to me, because I felt the same way. There were even times when I was younger, that I cursed God, I cursed Him for not taking me away. I thought that I was doomed. That existence that I led was going to go on forever. There were many times that I thought about doing it; committing suicide. I knew that it would have gotten me nowhere, but that’s exactly where I wanted to be, was nowhere. After several times where I sat with a knife or some other dangerous object, I would go over and over in my head, how people would react to it, thinking smugly about it, “Ha! That’ll teach you all to ignore me,” seeing the people grieving over my casket, I would close my eyes and the crying would begin again, because, of course, loneliness hurts. I’ve probably spent at least one fourth of my preadolescence crying. Feeling like my heart couldn’t get shredded into any more pieces, but…lo’ and behold, it could. I know how to cope with my depression now, cope with it enough to where I don’t do anything stupid though, I still feel that leaden pit in my chest, but…I’ve grown used to the weight of it, as if that weight has helped me build strength. I go to bed, and when I wake up, I think to myself, “Just get through the day, things will be fine, it’ll all be the same, you’ll do whatever it is you’ll do, just continue to keep your head down, and no one will notice you much, and they’ll just see another person.” My mantras through the days are a bit perplexed in the fact that whenever I’m confronted with a problem that I’ve experienced over and over again, I’ll just repeat it to myself and ignore the rest of the world. There are things that excite me, but…I feel that there are not that many people that support me on it. I almost always never get a “Hey dude, that’s awesome, we should talk about it sometime.” More often than not, it’s one word replies, and they generally just blow me off. Well, I can’t keep my eyes open, so this’ll be it for the night.