I’m a 19-year-old boy, I’m not unattractive, I’m not stupid, and I feel shitty. I go to university and am doing my gen eds. I live in a dorm with one roommate that I get along well with but am not close to. I am in my first semester of Uni and doing gen ed classes that aren’t particularly difficult or troublesome. I am good about keeping up in my classes and study when I need to. I feel like the most worthless piece of shit right now, so I’m writing this, probably on an anonymous forum or account so nobody will find out who I am. I feel like this a lot, this isn’t new. I’ve been going in and out of therapy my whole life and I’m on Wellbutrin 300mg to deal with depressive tendencies. My family is loving and support me in the things I do.
My issues come when I become lonely. I lose motivation and I feel a sickness in my chest that makes me want to stop existing. I’m very introverted and am diagnosed with Schizoid Personality disorder. However, I feel like this is very incorrect because I really do want to connect with people. At night I tell myself that I’m going to wake up the next day and go to the gym so that I can stop being a string bean with no confidence and meet people I will like, but I never do. I just reset every day. Honestly, if I was the same person as I was 2 years ago, in my online classes of senior year, not caring about anything and having all the free time in the world, I would be happy right now. But I have changed a lot.
I used to think that the only thing that mattered in life was feeling how you want to feel. I slept in, didn’t care, blew off school, and everything that comes along with that. I’m no longer that person. I want to change the world. I want to surpass my peers and destroy the competition in whatever I do. I don’t care if I don’t end up happy, I want the fire that the people who are great have. I want to “utter a new word” if you will. I don’t care if I die at 21, if I made people remember me and proved that my life wasn’t a series of worthless meaningless events, it would be worth it.
I know it’s a little weird that a depressed person has this goal, but it’s true. I sometimes sprint to reach that goal, when I’m stimulated by something I commit my time and get into it. But eventually, the voices/stimulus fade and it all goes away. Whenever I’m not distracted and I’m alone with my thoughts, things come crashing down.
I have somewhat significant social anxiety. I feel uncomfortable and awkward around people, especially girls (I really don’t understand what they expect). I usually make no effort to interact; I am a loner. When I do, I feel awkward and say things I hate myself for saying because my social skills are slightly unpolished. When I take Oxy, my world changes. I am confident in myself, I initiate talking to people, I am motivated, I play better chess, I am a better person. I know I cannot take this for the rest of my life, I space out my doses for when I need them most, at most 3 or 4 times a week. Another thing to note is that my OxyContin is fake. I know they’re fake; I buy them online for 5 dollars a pill, and don’t test them. Sometimes my pills are incredibly more potent than the last batch even though I haven’t changed the dose. I take 30mg, sometimes splitting it in 2. I don’t care If it ends up having fentanyl. I don’t intend to intentionally overdose, but I fantasize about OD’ing by mistake. I’m kind of bitch made, I don’t have the courage to put my neck in a noose or slit my wrists.
I keep my Oxy in check with an assortment of other drugs. I have crippling sleep issues and take real 1mg Xanax pills to sleep when I have something early the next day. I used to vape weed from a pen a lot, but don’t anymore because I don’t want my roommate to find out that I abuse drugs. I keep ketamine, ecstasy, LSD, mushrooms, and some other random benzos stashed in my personal pill bag, I don’t take them often.
When I’m lonely, I sometimes feel motivated to do really bad things. I fantasize about things that I won’t list here, usually involving causing public chaos and panic, creating disorder. Having an impact on the world, even if it isn’t a good one. I’m not a bad person, and I don’t think I could ever do these things. I could never shoot someone with a gun or slit someone’s throat, but when I think of destroying a stranger’s life indirectly, I feel somewhat satisfied. Whatever, stupid fantasies. If I’m too worthless to make a good impact on the world just make a bad one, right?
I think about killing myself all the time, I know that it would make my people sad, but the world might be a better place. All I do is take from other people, that’s all I’ve ever done and all I see in my future sometimes. The issue is that I’m a bitch, I have no courage. I couldn’t ever, even though sometimes I want to. I mix pills and powders sometimes, not with intent to die, but being okay with that result. I have no skills, no impact, and most importantly, no fire in me to be of any value to this world and I understand this. I think about people thinking about me, mourning my death, and crying for me and I feel a little happier. People who commit suicide, or people who die in general always get painted golden, I’d look prettier in death.
I have 2 friends. The first one is “Jane.” Jane is a free spirit with anxiety, if that makes any sense. She’s loves me and cares about me with her whole spirit, and I’m happy for this. Sometimes I feel like her friendship is wasted on me, someone who will never be the kind of friend she deserves. The second one is “Tim.” Tim is an extremely introverted cynic who has been my best friend since grade school. He is much like me, but he feels genuinely okay to live his life trying to feel happy sometimes and live in comfort. He is a great friend to me and is irreplaceable. However, he is more reserved than Jane, and often doesn’t talk about what is truly on his mind. Both Jane and Tim bring out my relaxed side; they take drugs with me, talk with me, console me, entertain me.
I’ve never had a romantic relationship. I’ve never even talked to a girl in any other manner than formally or as a strict friend. I want a relationship; I want someone to be around to keep me from being alone. Of course, being an antisocial, unapproachable Stringbean doesn’t help. I’m a very harsh judge of people, and the girls who did approach me in high school I had no interest in and turned down by saying “Oof, I need to get to class ttyl.” I regret this, I should have known I’m not attractive enough to turn down that opportunity for experience.
I want to get the best grades in my school, learn Korean, make 7 figures, have a girl who can tolerate me, be in shape, and become president of the world (kidding about the last one). I’ve tried to lower my expectations, but how can I when I can’t even meet a minimum? I judge the people around me; I think of them as insects while I’m just a grimy little centipede born with no venom. I have no right, I know this.
I’m writing this on my bed at 11PM on Saturday night, I got 2 hours of sleep last night and I’ve been sobered for one day. I’m fighting the urge to take half a painkiller; I’m scared of becoming a filthy addict. I know if I take this pill, I’ll become superman. I’ll study, I won’t take no for an answer, and I’ll remember that I can do whatever I set my mind to. Maybe if I’m okay dying at 21 I’m okay with this though? If I do everything in my power to light a flame that isn’t naturally inside me and make an impact on the world in whatever way I can, my death won’t be for nothing. I’ve a little over 18,000USD, if I only buy fake pills, I know I’ll make it for at least 2 more years. I don’t know why I’m posting this, and trust me, if you’re thinking “dude wtf fucking kill yourself,” don’t worry, you’re not wrong. I’m with you. If I saw someone else post this, I would feel the exact same way. I’m ashamed of this action, but I figure if I go this way why not exhaust every resource I can first.
It’s funny because I feel no remorse for other people, judge people 5 seconds after I’ve met them, internally laugh at the failure and misery of other people, and here I am. A worthless human whining about his life in the 90th percentile of household income, with no real problems.
I’m being vague on purpose; I don’t want you to know who I am. I do my best to conceal who I am, but I’m not perfect. You could probably find out if you’re good with networking, I’m counting on you not caring enough to do that.