All this does not carry any important information, I just already feel on the verge and I need to throw out my emotions somewhere so as not to do stupid things. And creativity and similar texts in the style of “talking to myself” have always helped me calm down a little.
I’m fucking tired. For several years now I have been in a state that can probably be called depression (I do not know for sure since I have never been to a therapist. I did not have and still do not have such an opportunity) but a lot of people told me that it was depression and I myself understand that what is happening to me is not normal. Plus, my basically unstable psyche, which sometimes throws me into extremes. I can feel nothing for many days except apathy and the question constantly hanging in my thoughts “What is the point at all?” What is the meaning of what I do, what is the meaning of what I eat, sleep, work, go to the shower, generally live. Does it all make any sense at all? Sometimes this condition lets me go and I get a little better. And it happens that any little thing can make me furious to the point of heartache (literally. I have heart problems) and later I start hating myself and the whole world around me. Recently, there was an incident with a homophobe and a sexist because of which I felt so bad that I left most social networks, plunged into work and it devoured me from the inside. My hands did not stop shaking and my heart ached, I will not say what was going on with my thoughts… it was disgusting. I’m still sick. I don’t want to see people, I don’t want to talk to people, I don’t want to exist. I’m not talking about suicide, but it’s no less disgusting. I feel like I’m stuck in a dark, cramped box and slowly suffocating. They tell me not to react to shitty people, to treat everything easier. BUT MY CONDITION DOES NOT ALLOW IT. I literally can’t help but pay attention to every little thing. I feel so worthless that it pisses me off myself. I’ve been trying for so many years to prove to people around me, to those who mocked me and called me garbage, that I can achieve more, that I can stop reacting, become better, achieve something worthwhile. But the reality is that no matter how confident I seem, it’s not so, I just break like a branch from any little thing. All I have is my art, which I also hate at times because this idea that I’m a jerk who can’t do anything no matter how much I try never leaves my head. No matter how many friends and even strangers say that I’m doing well, that I draw beautifully, that I’m a good person, and so on, I don’t get better. I want to believe it, sometimes I really do. But then this moment comes and all efforts are in vain. I hate myself and the whole world again and I want to disappear