How I went from passionate to suicidal (long)

Hey guys. My thoughts are scatterbrained so I am not sure if I'll properly get what I want to say off my chest correctly (or even if anybody will reply) but I want to type something. I'm hoping it will help me gain some clarity.

I am, without a doubt, depressed. It only started getting bad a year ago. A year ago something snapped in my brain. I came to the conclusion that life, as a whole, was something I no longer wanted to be a part of. It's kind of funny. When this happened, the trigger was something as little as being snowed in for a day or two and developing some cabin fever. Due to this I was going through nicotine withdrawl (cuz I can't buy anything if I'm snowed in). Looking back on it, it's ridiculous. It's also ridiculous how I allowed nicotine to get it's hooks in me at age sixteen, but I digress. But, ridiculous or not to the average person, the switch in my brain was made.

For some context: I started to make rap music of all things in October 2015. Haha. I got the idea tripping on research chemicals with some stupid friends of mine. I was hanging out with somebody who rapped. He supposably made it on the radio a couple of times. Like, legit radio. He's honestly not the best artist, but he has a couple legitimately good songs to listen to. I remember seeing him, and being incredibly inspired. He set a behemoth goal for himself, and works everyday to achieve it. And he's actually SEEING success. I started wondering if I could rap too. Then, some friends and him put on a beat, and some people started freestyling. I was scared to try (because I never have in my life), but after deep thought...I gave it my best.

The crazy part? They actually liked what I did! It obviously wasn't much, but I at least rhymed some simple stuff and had a good flow going. Keep in mind the type of person I was: nerdy, shy, band geek, virgin, the whole nine yards. I thought to myself after that: if I want to do something great, why the fuck can't I? I want to rap, and be successful at it. Why can't I?

I was sober and came to my senses, and then seriously thought about it. I decided I was going to try one song, and show it to people. If it crashed and burned, I was gonna pass it off as a joke. If it went well... well... I wasn't expecting it to go well. ...But it did. I showed it to a group of friends a week later (took me three days to write it. I still know every word to it by heart) and put my all in showing them. They're responses were genuine. They loved what I did. Obviously it was nothing much...but they genuinly thought i was made to be somebody. Like this was the seed of something great. I was nervous as all hell to show them...but i did. And I was ovberjoyed when they not only liked my work, but wanted to support me in my endeavors.

I got that song professionally recorded, and put it up. I posted it on my social media pages for everybody to check it out. i wanted to see what people thought. I was hoping people would support me in my endeavors. That's what I thought would happen, just like what my friends did.

...But that couldn't have been farther from the truth. Nobody outright disrespected me, but I became a mockery. I could tell people were talking behind my back. Granted, the recording sucked. I never practiced voice delivery or anything so the recording sounded shitty as all hell. I was nervous first time stepping into a studio, and if anybody knows music (or more so rap music) that shit shows. Bad. People dont like listening to insecure, shaky and pathetic sounding rappers.

I put it off for a while. I came to accept their criticism. I thought that I just had to keep pushing until I became good. The stereotypical "don't care about others' opinions of you." But I was irritated. The song sucks. That much I know. Believe me, it's my fucking song I'm disappointed in. And if somebody were to say the song sucked, i wouldn't care, because that would have been an observational fact. But it's the fact that people thought I could NEVER get good, NEVER get any better, and that I am DESTINED to be somebody who doesn't achieve their goals... I dont care if I sound like a bitch here. Shit fucking hurts, and it fucks with your head after a while. I was motivated for a while. I put it off and ignored it for a while. I constantly did things to spite people who mocked me, like trying my best performing a rap song for a school project live in front of one of my classes, and showing people my stuff even if they thought it sucked. I just wanted to let them know my goals, and try to gain some support. I did get support every now and then, but the VAST majority of people, I could tell, mocked me and thought I was crazy. Well, maybe I am. I fought well until the end of January 2016. I met the person who low-key inspired me to start rapping again. He was never a good friend of mine, but it was good to see each other again. I shared with him that I started making music too. He suddenly started looking at me different. He all of a sudden seemed to not like me. He started talking shit and disrespecting me amongst all my friends. Not overtly, but subtly. I could tell. My suspicions were confirmed when I found out he posted a snapchat video of me freestyling with everyone, saying how wack I am and how i should "shut the fuck up, pleaseee." I started talking shit to him back, cuz what the fuck else am I gonna do? Yeah, I may not be that good, but I worked hard on what I did. I'm not too good yet, but if I keep working at it, not getting better is an impossibility, right? Shit just got stupid and petty and I no longer wanted to deal with that shit.

It was around this point I deduced that my life was nothing but hardship, and I no longer wanted to participate in it. I wanted to kill myself. Not because I wanted death, but because I just no longer wanted to feel pain. I was motivated to do something great, and be someone great. Not to become a fucking "star" or better than anyone else, but because I wanted to be successful doing something I grew to love. I've always loved music, but I really loved rapping, as stupid as someone like me is to even rap to begin with.

I started wondering...what in the actual fuck is wrong with me? What is so wrong with me that people have to laugh at my goals? What's the problem? Is it me? Am I arrogant and turning people off? No. Am I selfish with my goals or wanna shit on others? Never. I couldn't for the life of me find out why shit just never looked up.

I was sucidal, miserable, and a shut-in from march until june of this past year. I didn't go to prom, hang out with friends, or do practically anything except write rhymes, skip doing my homework, and play video games if I didn't have any lyrics to write. My lyrics were like an obsession. I wanted to get good. I cant exactly explain why. It wasn't strict motivation. I wasn't happy. I wanted to die. There were days I was going to kill myself and was somehow saved each time by thankful coincidences. I just incubated, like Iron Man in his cave, constantly obsessing over my rhymes.

Summer I got out more but my music never seemed to improve. It was the same old shit. But one time, someone said something that changed my outlook. Someone said a comment..."You're getting better! Keep going!" That made me happy, for the first time in a while. I thought, for the first time in nine or so months, that i could actually do this, and that my efforts actually served a purpose. I kept trying, and trying, and trying some more. I went to college. In college, I decided I was going to re-invent myself.

i deleted all of my old songs, and vowed to start anew, and never release a stupid song again. I got serious. I looked into social media marketing, promotion, etc. to gain more listeners to my music, since friends and word of mouth was a disasterous plan to spread the word. That shit just made my image permanently tarnished, so even if I released a dope song, all those people would be inclined to dislike it. I started working on my stuff harder than ever before. Practicing delivery in my dorm room, no longer giving a fuck if people hear me. I was going to make this happen, damn it.

Mid-October of 2016. These numbers are not impressive, but they're impressive to me. Went from single-digit soundcloud follower numbers to around 30 engaged followers. Went from 200 or so Instagram followers to over 1K. Sadly, I never gained the courage to promote my stuff at college outside of trusted friends, but the friends that listened to my songs, ACTUALLY LIKED THEM. They didn't just say "thats dope" out of pity or obligation...I could tell in their faces that they were impressed. Got a radio play. Then another. it was college radio, but it was still something. i was so happy. That was, without a doubt, the happiest time of my life.

I started abusing benzos (Xanax and Klonopin) because i thought the boost of confidence (and getting rid of my depression/anxiety) made me a better rapper. It honestly did, but thats not the point. I started getting in over my head. Started dealing weed. Drank on Xanax one night, and got busted with seven grams worth of weed. Got arrested and charged with possession. Thank god i didnt get caught with intent to distribute. Dropped out of college. I was miserable there anyway and had no idea what I wanted to do. Got kicked out of my moms because I was partying too much. Lived with my grandmother. Started taking Xanax on the regular. It wasn't just casual use. I never got physically addicted, but EVERY FUCKING TIME I took one, it turned into like 15, and before I know it I'm sleeping on the side of the road or in my car because I got too fucked up to stay at anyone elses house. I stopped taking Xanax after my friends said they were seriously concerned. My mother told me I was going to die because of withdrawl so I started hyperventilating with a panic attack and got rushed to the hospital. They said I was not withdrawing. I still had it in my head, and in everybody in my family's heads that I was a nothing but a useless drug addict, college dropout who's true passion in life (at least then) was pointless and he has nothing to show for it whatsoever. Started going to NA and trying my best to believe in God or a higher power to alleviate the void that slowly started to form in my heart. Friends started distancing themselves from me, even after I stopped getting fucked up on Xanax all the time. I spent everyday in my grandmas house...alone...working on rhymes... ...Just like back then.

Suicidal thoughts returned. I've had them in college before (suicidal waves were something that, over the past year, I grew used to dealing with) but this time, they were something much deeper. i came to the same conclusion I came up with back in the beginning of the year... That life was nothing but one hardship after another. I released a rap song, that was going to be on my "mixtape." I have been planning to release a legitimate 10-track album/mixtape thing for months, ever since college. I wanted to release a song about how I had to pick myself back up after my fall (getting fucked up too much, college dropout, etc.) This song got over 17 likes and 200 plus views on soundcloud. That was MONUMENTAL for me. Best song I have ever released. By far. ...But I got de-motivated to work on my music any more after that song was released. It was almost like it was my last hurrah. "I'm done." I thought. "No more. No more working constantly until I go crazy from depression, isolation and lonliness. No more working everyday until my brain is fucking fried. No more. I am done." People were hitting me up so much for this song. People at my brothers' school even were talking about me, and they dont even know my brother. Word was getting around. ...But I didn't care. To this day i don't. I dont know why. You would think a monumental success would motivate you even further, right? At the time of this writing I have not worked on any new music ever since I released this song. That was in November of this year. The past couple days I have tried, but to no avail. I just dont have that spark anymore. I'm working a job now. 9-6 monday through friday. $500 a week, living with the mom. And with absolutely zero ambition in life. I'm working a job because 1.) I cant get smokes/weed/xans (rip NA) without money from my job, and 2.) I would have nowhere to live if I didn't work. There is no "why" to anything I am doing. Fuck rapping.
Shit's fucking dumb. I dont know what the hell I was even thinking. I never even enjoyed it. I probably did it all out of my bruised ego. That's what I think. Once that bruised ego was lifted, ie making my dope song in november, I no longer had motivation to continue.

Here I am. Typing this long ass post on reddit that I presume nobody will read because nobody else will listen to me with these things. Here I am, working everyday and staying in every day of the week. Here I am, looking forward to my weekends when I can get fucked up and not have to think about anything or anyone. Here I am, fighting thoughts of suicide because I just feel...dead inside. Like I dont have any intersts in anything, there is nothing for me, there is nothing I enjoy, there is just a big, gigantic void of emptiness.

Sorry if that sounded "gay and emo." I'm not trying to be. That's how I honestly feel. I'm not making this post out of pity. I just want a release. Catharsis. I wanna feel something. I wanna feel some sort of fucking emotion by bringing everything up to the surface, instead of an incurable, persistant, fucking constant onslaught of feelings like I have no interests, no passion, no energy, no ambition. If I feel sad, then that's better because I dont wanna fucking feel nothing!

That's my story. Do with it what you will.