All of those things are just things to be ripped from you and get destroyed while leaving your crushed and broken soul in their wake.
I deserve all the bad things that have happened in my life. And the only reason good things happen is so they can be taken from me, leaving me more broken than I was before having the good thing.
When people ask me what I expect my son to be when he’s grown, I have to stop myself from saying “Alive.” Because that’s all I dare to hope for my son. He’s only two.
Hey, you don’t deserve any of it. Try to capture the good things, hold them in your heart as long as possible before they go away. They’ll come back, one way or another. Just try to hold on until then. You can do it!
I used to be able to answer that question even with my depression because I knew the exact answer that my parents wanted to hear. Now a days it’s more like will I be alive tomorrow if so maybe I can make plans.
I’ve never had suicidal thoughts aside from a brief period of time when I was taking a specific medication that didn’t work for me. Even so, I’m generally too busy dealing with my depression and anxiety to even think about where I might be in 5 years. I don’t know where I would like to be in 6 months, let alone 5 years.
Hard-wired safeties prevent me from thinking about suicide beyond an abstract concept (I cannot indulge – for want of a better word – in thoughts of killing myself before I error-out). So, I’m never really thinking about whether I’ll be alive in five years – I just have no motive to figure out plans that far in advance, since planning usually leads to disappointment.
I turned 50 a few months ago. I honestly never thought I would live this long but I guess I am to much of a coward and a fuckup to do something about it.
I have no plans, no hopes, no dreams, no goals.
All of those things are just things to be ripped from you and get destroyed while leaving your crushed and broken soul in their wake.
I deserve all the bad things that have happened in my life. And the only reason good things happen is so they can be taken from me, leaving me more broken than I was before having the good thing.
When people ask me what I expect my son to be when he’s grown, I have to stop myself from saying “Alive.” Because that’s all I dare to hope for my son. He’s only two.
Hey, you don’t deserve any of it. Try to capture the good things, hold them in your heart as long as possible before they go away. They’ll come back, one way or another. Just try to hold on until then. You can do it!
you spoke the words that were on my tongue
I used to be able to answer that question even with my depression because I knew the exact answer that my parents wanted to hear. Now a days it’s more like will I be alive tomorrow if so maybe I can make plans.
I’ve never had suicidal thoughts aside from a brief period of time when I was taking a specific medication that didn’t work for me. Even so, I’m generally too busy dealing with my depression and anxiety to even think about where I might be in 5 years. I don’t know where I would like to be in 6 months, let alone 5 years.
This. I’m barely dealing with today, with no energy to be thinking about tomorrow, let alone 5 years ahead.
Hard-wired safeties prevent me from thinking about suicide beyond an abstract concept (I cannot indulge – for want of a better word – in thoughts of killing myself before I error-out). So, I’m never really thinking about whether I’ll be alive in five years – I just have no motive to figure out plans that far in advance, since planning usually leads to disappointment.
For me it’s more like, why make plans? It’s not like it’s actually going to happen the way I wanted it to anyways, so what’s the point?
also true.
OMG This.
I turned 50 a few months ago. I honestly never thought I would live this long but I guess I am to much of a coward and a fuckup to do something about it.
Forget 5 years. I can’t even imagine what I’ll be doing tomorrow.
Five years more bitter, five years less employable.