Hi, everyone. I would like to just take a moment to thank you all again for sticking with me through this blog. I go back and forth about it and why I continue to keep it even though I hardly write on it anymore. Then, I get random spurts of inspiration or I begin thinking, which led me to reflect on my past writing.
While going through my computer, I came across this journal entry from 2014. I can’t believe that was already three years ago.
I hope this helps people who have ever felt depressed and suicidal or even just opens up your mind to a new idea of thinking. That’s what I hope to gain from writing and reading other people’s thoughts.
So, make of this what you will. This was from a time in my life that was pretty rough – before I found myself:
March 5, 2014
I wish that I could just drive away. Far, far away from here. I don’t even know if I would take anything with me. A change of clothes, maybe. My iPod for music because I wouldn’t get through a day without it. A toothbrush so my teeth don’t get disgusting. They are one of my few good features, after all.
I can’t take it anymore. The redundancy. Going to class. Taking the bus to my apartment. Forcing conversation with my roommates. Taking the bus to class. Daydreaming while I listen to a professor talking about something that doesn’t pertain to my future in the slightest.
I am here because of a gen ed requirement. This is my life. I am paying all of this money to re-live high school and every day I think about dropping out or ending it all but would either of those decisions really solve anything? Of course not, but staying in college doesn’t seem to be solving my life situation either.
I wish I would have figured it all out earlier. Back in high school. Hell, even middle school. I wish I would have known who I was. Known what I liked, what I was passionate about. Who I wanted to be friends with. Not have given a fuck what anyone thought of me. Have some self-respect for myself.
Better late than never, right? Well, it might be too late. Because, you see, I am in my second year of college and I am completely alone. Sure, you’ll always have your parents, but I wish I could understand people my own age. I really do.
I wish I could connect with them. I wish I could be the life of a party and just enter a room with no fucks given. Just drink and keep drinking with all of the other mindless drunken idiots until my brain can finally take no more alcohol in my system and slowly black out until I awaken the next day, wondering what on earth could have happened the previous night.
But I don’t understand. I don’t understand why everything is so difficult. Why do they force you to decide what you want to do for a living when you have not experienced the real world yet? Why is your worthiness of being in college based upon a stupid test score? Why is college drilled into our minds at a young age and no other alternative is accepted? What am I doing here, a misfit while it seems like everyone else is getting by?
I want to get by. I want to feel something. I want to be normal.
So I think about the future. The future. It seems like such an amazing place.
While I’m sitting in all of those classes that are a waste of my time and loan money.
While I’m having conversations with people that could care less about anything that isn’t about them.
While I’m sitting in a coffee shop or a restaurant doing work because I don’t feel like going back to campus or my apartment. They’re the only places in this goddamn town where I can acquire some freaking inspiration.
While I’m doing all of this, I focus on the future. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. That’s what is on my mind.
It has to be better than this, right? It couldn’t possibly get any worse. Maybe I will make it up to New York one day or out west to Los Angeles. I will meet a bunch of cultured people and people that share my interests.
I will go sky diving; travel in planes all across the world; photograph the sunrise off the coast of Hawaii; walk across the Great Wall of China. I dream up all of these incredible scenarios in my head but all I can focus on is how I’m stuck here.
Of all of the places I could have been born. Of all of the places I could have ended up. I got stuck here, in the middle of nowhere, where you couldn’t get inspired or feel the creativity flowing through your veins if you tried.
It’s a horrible feeling and no matter how hard you try, the depression comes crawling back. Controlling your every move and thought, making you want to do nothing but hide yourself under your covers and blast your music until you go deaf and you pray that you just stop breathing and die right there because you couldn’t possibly live on this sickening planet for one more minute.
You see, it is the future that keeps me alive. It is the future that prevents me from doing something awful. Something I might regret. It is the future that makes me believe this is all happening for a reason, that there is a purpose to my misery in my current situation.
But what if there is no purpose? What if this is it? What if this is as good as it is going to get? Where do I go from here?
That is the thought that keeps me awake at night. The thought that makes me question what the hell I’m even doing here. Why have I made it to my twentieth year on a planet we are slowly destroying while there are babies that only last mere minutes and children that get sick and die from cancer or teenagers getting killed in automobile accidents? Why is it that I have lasted this long? What am I supposed to be doing with this precious time?
Time really is precious. We don’t have a lot of it even though we think of ourselves as invincible. We’re not even close. We are pawns in a game of life, being randomly chosen for death.
I wish I knew the answer to these questions. I really do. I wish I didn’t think like this either. I always have over-analyzed everything but that’s just the way my mind works. Everything could end up working out, who knows? No one can know their future for certain.
I, for one, believe in fate and whatever is meant to happen will happen. I could be meant to do great things. I could be meant to write stories and impact people’s lives and win awards for my thoughts that are thrown onto blank paper and turned into masterpiece powerhouse films.
Or, I could be meant to be miserable all of my life and get killed in some freak accident sometime tomorrow afternoon. We can never know for sure.
I guess until then, I will continue gliding by, just as I do every day of my life. I have my iPod tightly secured in my right hand, always ready for when I need a temporary escape from the madness going on around me and inside my head.