I've been conditioned to believe I am lazy, don't do any work, and am therefore useless...so, yeah, being told the opposite just sounds like a bad joke. Just a depression post again, moving on, I'll forget this later...

I'm not the only one who feels this way, I'm sure. I've been taking a lot of naps recently and honestly just wanting more peace in my daily life, but I'm being squawked at for being lazy, ungrateful, and being told to do something useful. I would if I felt useful. Even if I do anything, it feels like a chore, and I won't be rewarded or acknowledged for it anyway. What's the point?

I can't nap for long, but when I do I feel at least like I'm a bit rested, but more like I've instead failed at escaping that which makes me depressed, which is being awake, alive and trapped in dark thoughts, in a dark place, in a very lonely prison. I've been writing, but I can only write so long before I need to eat, move, and I get tired. It's a struggle to even feel anything but emptiness, numbness, apathy. Sometimes I feel like I could be facing the barrel of a gun walking down the street and I wouldn't care. Go ahead and take your shot, but please don't miss...aim for the skull and pull.

Am I suicidal? Maybe. I've certainly considered it more than once. Last year alone I've thought about it at least once a month. Now 3 months into 2021, it's more like twice a month. But they're thoughts only. I have little intention behind them. My strongest urge is planning for suicide, saying goodbye to everyone I know last minute, seated or clung someplace alone on a bridge, just wanting to draw that attention to myself and talking with someone who doesn't want to see me die, and doesn't want me to despair. Because I need to be reminded that people care. I've been going so long now that I feel people don't, and they can't care, not for me and not for anyone else stuck with this draining, ugly, hopeless battle of depression. I wouldn't actually jump, unless of course the rarest occurrence happens and everyone walking by verbally berates me instead of helps. But I told my therapist I would call if I ever had any more dark thoughts of offing myself again.

It's so easy to lie. It's so much easier to suffer in silence, and build up the pain until it causes me to spiral or crumble apart in a breakdown which will inevitably occur in the future if I keep this up long enough...

Maybe attempting to kill myself will bring a friend my way. Maybe I'd actually be listened to, AND understood. Maybe I'd be able to get onto my two feet with the help I've been so deprived of, so cheated out of. Ideally, I don't see any of that happening. That's just how hopeless I feel about everything. I don't expect anything to go swimmingly, or turn out okay, and that's fine. Most of the time it doesn't. But I expect the worst to happen all of the time, or at the very least, I expect to lose in any situation, even when I seem to have claimed a victory. I'm still waiting for a car accident to come my way and completely obliterate my pride in my driving ability...

Anyway, I feel purposeless, powerless and a total waste...yeah...a total waste. I don't deserve even the attention I try to seek. I don't deserve a passing thought because the thoughts about me don't feel like they're about me, they're about the person I used to be. I don't want to die and hurt my loved ones. I want to die because I don't want to feel like a waste...

How loud must I scream?...how long will I cry?...how many more empty-filled minutes must I wait before I am given that helping hand and that shoulder to cry on? I'm starting to think that I need to do something really drastic in order to be taken a little more seriously...but maybe I don't want to be taken too seriously. After all, I don't need a 24 hour watch or drugs to subdue me every day...I just need to be understood...

I just need to be rescued...