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C:\Human\Brain\Purpose.txt has returned an error. Diagnosing...
6 years ago · 4 · Depression, +4 · Explicit
774
I've had a hard life so far. I don't expect it to get any better with time, I've been telling myself that it would for years, it hasn't. Whether or not I'll be alive tomorrow is a question that only gets answered when the clock strikes midnight - I don't make plans anymore. I used to love writing, but somewhere along the line it went from a hobby to a coping mechanism.
It was cathartic at first: 1000 words? My chest felt lighter, I could breathe again. Tomorrow didn't seem so dark.
Then I needed to write 1500...then 2000...3000.
My chest doesn't feel any lighter, I still can't breathe. I wake up blind.
It takes me longer to respond to my name at work; I don't see my friends as often as I used to.
All writing does now is echo the thoughts, the feelings, that continue to ring loudly in my ears. I casually entertain the thought of suicide, one hard thrust of a knife, one step off the platform, one rail separating me and the river below. I've built up calluses on my fingers just from writing. I desperately pour all my inner thoughts onto countless word documents to be stored away in what could now easily be considered a digital copy of my consciousness. Every suicidal thought, every feeling, relationship, secret, lie, truth.
I should stop, but I don't have any other options left. Famliy and friends offered support, but none of it filtered through. It's all white noise. I've seen too many counsellors for too many visits, and they all tell me the same thing: take the pills. The same advice I'd receive from a drug dealer.
I didn't want to, I knew what they did, how they worked. Instead of trying to heal your mind, it numbs it, effectively the clinical equivalivent of ignoring the problem.
I took them anyway. I didn't get any better. Hours became days, weeks, months, a failing grade, years, a bad job interview.
I stopped taking the pills. I didn't get any better, I was just more aware of the time passing.
I've never hurt myself. Never understood it honestly, but apparently that stems from my inability to understand others in general, let alone their actions.
Antisocial Personality Disorder. Sociopath. To the schools I've attended, to the jobs I've worked at, to the hospitals I've been to.
To my family, my friends. That's what I am. An unfeeling liar, incapable of human emotion, only able to replicate it. To them, I can't be sad, I can't be depressed. All because of how I've been diagnosed.
I am a human being. I bleed. I hurt. I cry. I put on a mask just like everybody else, but because I've actually gotten good at it, I'm underserving of your help, your sympathies. I'm just using you to get what I want.
Either the diagnosis of Sociopathy needs to be changed, or the definition needs to change, because I don't like being an anomalous result that gets ignored because it's not convenient. I know enough about the numbers to know that I'm not the first case of this, so killing myself won't solve their problem.
"But it might solve mine."
That's what I've been thinking lately. Really, what's stopping me at this point? Nobody wants to help anymore because they only think about what I am instead of who I am. If I tell people I've just met, they leave. If I don't tell them, when they find out - because they always do, I'm a manipulative liar. A sociopath.
There's only one reason I'm still here, still putting myself through this. Because I don't want to die. I don't. I'm 19. I want to get married, have kids, teach them all the things no one taught me. The things I had to learn while sitting in the corner of my room wandering why my own parents wrote me off the minute the counsellors did.
But with every day that passes, and I feel my motivation to stay slipping more and more, I ask myself if I really think I'm going to make it that far. I keep telling myself that the people in my life actually want me here, despite every day proving how delusional that idea is.
I remember asking my parents how they'd feel if I left one day, I didn't say where or for how long. Their reply?
"Don't ask silly questions."
That's...not an answer.
I always get this feeling that if I decide to go, then everyone will be talking about who I was before the diagnoses, before they wrote me off. As if that part never happened. That upsets me. To think that if I go, they'll try to remember me as the bright-eyed boy who smiled a lot, not the person who cried on the doorstep of my friend's house because my parent's didn't want a sociopath for a son.
I had a hard life before, but it was that label which wiped away any hope of getting help. No one wants to help the sociopath, look at him, he thinks he can lie his way into your heart and get you to care. He's not actually sad, he's just acting. He isn't actually depressed, he's just acting.
I refuse to turn to alcohol, and I refuse to partake in any recreational drug. Not because I don't think it would help, it might. No, I'm staying drug/alcohol free because if I go, I don't want people to blame this on substance abuse. To blame the depression, and the hell I went through after my diagnoses - the hell everyone the world says I should've been able to trust put me through, on drugs.
Because isn't that what always happens? Someone kills themself, drugs were involved. Even if drugs were involved, how come everyone just unanimously agrees that it's always the drugs that led to depression and never the other way around?
I want whoever is reading this to really think about that for a moment. I've abstained from all recreational drugs my entire life so far, just so if I commit suicide, people won't be able to shift the blame.
They'll find something, though. Probably bullying. They'll blame the depression on bullying, instead of it being my depression that led to getting bullied. The bullying even helped at times - it got rid of the suicidal thoughts, sometimes it was hard to think with a minor concussion.
I don't know if this is going to end up being my suicide note, I don't care if it does. There isn't much I would change. I'll copy this to a document and then set a command to open it whenever someone signs in, just in case.
This isn't a cry for help, words on a screen aren't going to change this. Think of this as a PSA, don't try and look for any deeper meaning, just read what's on the screen.
Whether or not I decide I'm done, I guess that's what I want people to take from this. That if I'm still here by the time you read this, I exist. Proof that there's a flaw in the diagnosing of sociopathy so great, that it results in someone being driven closer and closer to suicide. Proof that it isn't just drugs or bullying that lead to depression, but something deeper, perhaps on a fundamental level.
I'll try to keep hanging on however I can, even if it's just to see how long it takes before something else kills me. I've already been hit by a bus, so if anything less than an explosion takes me out, I'm calling bullshit. There, that's my attempt at making light of the situation.
And if I'm already gone by the time you're reading this...just remember that it wasn't sadness, and it wasn't depression.
It was just acting. I can't feel emotion. After all, I'm a sociopath.
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This is... moving, to say the least. The very least. Regardless of anything else, you're a very talented writer, and you express yourself excellently. And I wanted to say, I'm sorry for your situation. And I hope you're still around to read this. It's strong of you to not use drugs, and I respect the reason you do it for. That's commendable. The world today focuses entirely too much on the coping mechanisms rather than the problem. I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't commit suicide. Words on a screen rarely change thoughts that stem from so much pain.
However, our words do affect others that are open to listening. I'm sorry that life wrote you off for a misconstrued label and a fault in human thinking. You're a stronger person than I to have dealt with everything in such a way. I thought you should know, even if my words change nothing. I wish you the best of luck.
ReplyAddendum to my previous comment, I'm not advocating for suicide either. You seem to understand it and have clearly thought about it a lot. But I didn't want you to think I'm saying you should, because I don't believe that. However, for any of us that have read this, I think we could understand your reasoning. You've been dealt something that no one person should have to contend with, and you've been put to blame. I wish it didn't work that way. I just wanted to clarify that.
ReplyI didn't see your previous comment, was just trying to view it now but it instead showed the "being reviewed by a moderator" box. Seems to be an automatic flagging system. What was your previous comment about?
ReplyIt seems to be there now. I think it was approved.
Reply