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Not sure what this is. Some kind of confession maybe. A load of bollocks no one wants to hear? Possibly. I'm just gonna ramble on and see what comes out, then post it and see if that helps. I doubt it, but I guess it's worth an hour of my time. I'll be frank and honest and some of it's probably hard to read, or not, I don't know. None of this is intended to worry anyone, and people falling over themselves to help isn't what I'm asking for. I doubt I'll leave this up for long.
My name is Jamie and I haven't a friend in the world. Not one. Not by the definition of the word anyway. People I know, people I bump into, sure, but no one I trust. No one I can confide in. No one I can call whenever I like, have a chat, loosen up, moan to, laugh with. Fucking no one. If you know how that is, you'll know how exhausting your own company can be. Every day can be a blur. You wake up, you potter about, you work your routine, and then you crawl back into bed, having barely lived at all. I have had friends, of course, but I've lost them all over the years. I don't know if it's my fault or theirs. A bit of both, I expect. I know I've lost one or two to drugs and drink, with those things becoming more important to them, but in general, I've just lost touch with people and I don't even know where they are now, it's been so long.
Some will find that amusing, I suppose. Whatever. If you have just one person in your life you can trust without reservation, you're lucky. Personally, I feel like I've had nothing but bad luck and misery for going on 20 years. Gambling addictions, failed relationships, unemployment, manic depression. Every day involves me wondering how and when something else goes bad. I've said this before quite a bit, and it's still the best way I can describe it; every day is like looking through a window at a party you weren't invited to. Everyone having fun, getting on, doing their thing, enjoying life. Doing what they're 'supposed' to be doing, i.e. living. Growing as people. Falling for each other. Having children. Creating their own memories. I'll never have that. It's been that way for so long, it's almost as if I'm not allowed to have it. It's completely unobtainable, and if there's the slightest sign that something might change, that light is extinguished every time.
I don't believe in God. I'm not sure what I DO believe in, but it's more like this world just isn't real somehow. Like it's just in my mind, or as if I'm some kind of experiment, the point of which appears to be to make me watch others, while who-the-fuck-ever watches ME and how I deal with it all. Loading it on top of me to see when I'll break. Things just don't add up or make sense, and bad luck seems to follow me everywhere. I can alienate myself at the drop of a fucking hat, barely trying. If I get close to someone, they'll turn, or let me down in some way. If I let my guard down, someone will do or say something that makes me put it back up. This doesn't even have to be intentional on their part. Often it'll just be some other way of looking at something, of speaking about something, that I take exception to because maybe I expect them to be perfect or to think the exact same way I do. This happens so often that it's genuinely like a routine now - a trap laid out for me to fall into for cosmic giggles. A giant reset switch. I've had several relationships, but they've all ended badly one way or another. I envy people who've managed to split with someone and remain friends. I've no idea what that feels like. It's got to the point now where I just don't bother. I've 'retired'.
I'm a private person. I don't put up any pictures of myself or let on too many details about my private life. Even doing this is filling me with dread. I don't have a Facebook account, Instagram or whatever. I don't do Tinder. I don't snap chat or face time. I don't Skype. I don't have multiple profiles or pictures of my last night out with friends. I don't see the point in any of it (I don't have any friends to take pictures with anyway). Again - it's what other people do, it's not what I'm supposed to be a part of.
I reckon people tend to think that anyone like I've just described is somehow repulsively ugly or ashamed of how they look, and that's the reason they don't put themselves out there. I wouldn't say it's as simple as that. I'm not ashamed of my looks, I just don't want anyone to comment on them, full stop, good or bad. I'm not strong enough. It's far far easier to maintain the anonymity you're afforded with a 'dummy' profile, which is why for all my time online I've forever been one. That isn't to say people haven't tried to find out things about me. They really have. I've had my address shared online, google earth pictures of my home, someone even managed to find my phone number once and started to share it, just in case anyone wanted to make my life unbearable, you know, like I apparently deserve.
I've hurt people. I've insulted people. I've argued unnecessarily with people over nothing at all, just to make myself feel alive. I've made people hate me. I've made people talk about me all the time, for years, and they've been only too happy to do so, making up all kinds of nonsense and outlandish rumours and stories that barely make any sense the moment you start to question them. Some have clearly enjoyed it, too. They still do. Right now, some will be reading this and giddily looking forward to sharing it and laughing. Fuck knows why. Within weeks they'll be sharing some advice about mental health issues or telling people to open up, perhaps even lamenting the passing of someone who suffered.
I could show you things people have said, screen snaps and links, and you'd be amazed at the levels people have stooped to. You'd think I'd scarred them for life or hurt them physically, not just argued with them at some point on the internet. Some know lots about this, others know nothing, but I guarantee you you'll have 'heard' something. I've even been the topic of discussion - between groups of people I've never met - while they've been out for drinks. Rumours, lies, stories, which have somehow passed into lore. I almost respect just how convincing they've made it without a shred of proof. Fair fucking play. I mean, you know, apart from how you've managed to make my life much worse than it needed to be, fair play. Some will see this as me whinging about something unimportant, expecting people to feel sorry for me, but it's really not. It's more a way of showing how behaviour (that somehow people think is ok) can stay with someone and follow them around, whether they like it or not. Groups of people can really drag you through it. Unfortunately, those you think you're close to can, too.
I can't escape the idea I keep coming back to that, once my parents are gone, I'll seek to 'end things' myself. I'll truly be on my own from that day on and I just see no point in being so. My existence seems pointless to me NOW, it's ridiculous to think it won't be a hundred times worse then. There won't be anyone here to know it's even happened anyway. I do have brothers, but they're married and have their own families now. I haven't even seen or spoken to one of them in over two years. Growing old with no one around you, lonely and falling apart. The very thought of it is gut-wrenching. One or two people know I've said this before, and I'll say the same thing here I said to them - I don't want to 'worry' anyone with it because that really isn't my intention. Nor do I want people to think I'm absolutely suicidal and could "do something silly" any moment. I'm not, I promise you. I care too much about what it might do to those I love. They don't deserve it. My parents have given me everything, so there's no way I'd put them through something like that. I don't need an intervention and it isn't something I've considered 5 minutes ago before I wrote it down. It's not a sudden cry for help. I've felt this way for years. It doesn't even feel weird for me to think this way anymore. Maybe something will change one day and this will all seem like just a bad dream, but it hasn't so far.
Fuck knows why I'm doing this. I'm just pouring things out for the first time. Felt like doing so in case anyone feels the same, and so they can then feel they're not completely alone. It'll come as a shock to some but not to all. Either way, it's the brutally honest truth I can't avoid. Every day is a struggle, but I've perfected my mask.
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