Apathy as a Defence Mechanism

I’m in a good mood today. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that in my entire life. Something good happened and I’ll just leave it at that. Being happy and being apathetic is pretty mutually exclusive so this messes with my apathetic style of living.

I choose not to care too deeply about anything. Being apathetic made me immune to disappointment. Some of it is by choice, but a lot of it is conditioned into me by being constantly let down. There are a lot of things I truly don’t care about and it feels good to be unaffected by them. When I choose not to care about something, I can never reach full apathy, but it still helps a lot in reducing disappointment. When I’m not emotionally invested in something, I have no fears or worries about losing it. Being emotionally un-invested in life made death a lot less scary.

My life generally sucks a lot so my apathetic ways were actually very functional and practical. In a twisted way, it kind of sucks that I experienced some happiness and have something to look forward to because now I have to work so hard live and I’ll probably be spending a lot of time regretting all the time I’ve wasted. I guess I’m a textbook example of a pessimist.

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Life, Responsibilities, Blah Blah Blah…

I don’t really know what to title this entry. I have an idea of what I want to write about but I don’t know if I’ve thought it out yet. Writing blogs is a way of thinking through things so I’m going to be posting this whether it’s shittily thought out or not.

I felt pretty shitty yesterday. It’s not often that I can identify the cause of my bad days but yesterday’s was obvious. It wasn’t a big deal. I shouldn’t have felt as shitty as I did, but it’s not necessarily an over-reaction. I already constantly have a huge pile of shitty feelings so when someone tosses a new piece of shit on top of that, I’m not feeling shitty because of the tiny new piece, I feel shitty for the sum total huge pile of shit feelings. …I’ll stop using shit as a metaphor for feeling shitty now cause the imagery would only get worse from here.

So I’ve been living at my aunt’s lately and yesterday, my aunt had a talk with me about my living situation. I hate how people are basically incapable to talk about things honestly. I don’t talk much, but when I ask a question, I want an honest answer. If you just keep feeding me with nice sounding sugar coated polite bullshit, there no point for me to talk to you. Right now, I’m living at my aunt’s house under the guise of helping out around the house cause of my cancerous sickly uncle. That’s the excuse that goes to my parents but in actuality, my aunt believes my parents are very toxic to happiness so she’s trying to save me from them. I keep asking if she wants me around to help out with the little things cause I know I’m not helping her THAT much. She keeps saying I should stay but I don’t know if that’s true or if she’s just trying to “save” me. I don’t need “saving” unless it’s a concerted effort where my opinion actually matters.

My aunt tried to talk to me and get me to think about my future, specifically, how I plan to make a living for myself in the future because I haven’t been doing that yet. I tell her the truth without making a big deal out of it and I don’t think she understands how I feel at all. I’m utterly depressed. I’ve been this way for a while and will continue to be this way in the foreseeable future. Just because I talk about depression with a smile on my face and joking around with it instead of sobbing like a little bitch, it doesn’t mean I’m not actually depressed or that I’m using it as an ultimate excuse to not do shit. Do you want to see me cry? I don’t do it cause nobody wants to see a grown man cry. I’m not a cryer but I’m pretty sure I could cry at will if I just stop holding it back for a minute. That’s an award-winning acting ability and I’m definitely no actor.

Although I’m not working very much these days, I could be doing a lot less. In many ways, I’m quite a superb human being. I am by far the smartest, strongest, and healthiest person I know. That’s mostly because I don’t know anyone. Ranking 1 out of 1 isn’t exactly a feat. I’m not trying to brag here because I’m clearly a failure at life at this moment, being as depressed as I am. Also, I wear glasses so my body is clearly flawed. My point is, I know I’m clearly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t do it because I have no reason to. That’s how grim life has gotten for me. I’m only alive right now because I’m being financially supported. I have no emotional attachment to these people who are supporting me. There’s a part of me that’s hopeful and believes there’s a speck of possibility that I might enjoy life someday. So if living requires very little effort, I’ll live on. I’m not suicidal right now but I’m not afraid to die because there’s nothing I’ll miss.

When I told some of that to my aunt, she likened my situation to her husband’s. There are many days where my uncle suffers so much, he’d much rather die to end the suffering. His siblings insists he lives on. Sure, I understand that my uncle must’ve genuinely wanted to die at some point, many times, but I’m not him. Our minds work completely differently. I don’t give a shit about what people think. I don’t care if other people want me to live. If they’re not actively making my life better, then they’re just in my way. If anything, their nagging for me to live would push me towards death. There’s only two reasons that my uncle hasn’t killed himself yet. Either he’s too much of a pussy to do it, or he wants to live. It’s okay to want to live. (Who’d have thought that sentence would ever need to be written, lol.)

I’m not like my uncle. I’ve got a much stronger will. If I really want to do something, I’ll do it. If I really wanted to kill myself, I’ll do it. It won’t be easy, but I can handle the task. Do I need to prove it? I’m not a cutter and I get no enjoyment out of it. I’ve got a healthy fear of not wanting to wound myself. But I give so little shits right now, I can stab myself in the arm as proof that I genuinely don’t care about my life right now. I would definitely hesitate, but I can do it. It’s like sucking a dick. I know I don’t want to do it, but if I had to, I would need a moment to take a breath and mentally prepare myself before I do it. It’s not physically hard to suck dicks, it’s all mental. Don’t worry, I’m not about to retardedly stab myself in the arm or suck dicks because I’m smart enough to know that it doesn’t matter even if I prove my depression to people.

Speaking of sucking dicks, I wanted to use that as an example for something else. One of the things my aunt talked to me about was to eventually get me to pay the internet bill and develop a sense of responsibility in me. I understand the perceived logic behind that, but that won’t work for me at this point. I’ve got enough money saved up along with the batch of money that’s about to come in with Tek Tactical, a game I’ll be releasing today, that I won’t need to work for a while to pay those bills. There still won’t be any urgency for me to work. By the time it does feel urgent, it’ll close off opportunities for me to attempt entrepreneurial projects like making games. So I would wound up stuck with a shitty job or sucking dicks to pay the bills. Would my aunt really want me to suck dicks to pay her $50 a month? No? Oh, so she’ll let a month slide? What about the next month? Does she want me to suck dicks then? If she doesn’t ever want me to have to suck dicks, then the whole responsibility shit doesn’t work. Ideally, she would want me to get a job to pay the bills and then discover that if I HAD to work, I might as well get a better job and then get a good job that way. But that’s not how my brain works at this point in life. I’d rather suck dicks than get stuck in a shitty job and I’d probably rather die than suck dicks.

Okay… let me see if it’s possible to bring this back to a positive note. Let me assure you that I’m probably not in any danger of suicide or sucking dicks anytime soon. Once Tek Tactical is released, my life will change quite drastically. Not necessarily a positive change, but it’ll change. The projected earnings seem pretty good and I’ll be kept busy responding to user comments. I recognize that there’s a very real possibility that it doesn’t turn out so well. It’s definitely possible that I earn far less than I expect and maybe no one will give enough of a shit about the game to comment on it. If that happens, I will need to seriously consider abandoning game making and reapply my programming skills to more serious jobs. Either way, my life’s about to change pretty soon.

Hmm… That wasn’t positive at all, is it? Let me try again… When I told my aunt that paying bills won’t give me urgency because Tek Tactical will probably cover that for a year, she said that she could just increase the bills for me. If that’s the case, I’ve got no reason to continue living with her. It’s not like I enjoy living here. I’m not complaining. It’s just I don’t enjoy anything. She thinks that less yelling in her house compared to my parents’ along with her daughters’ conversations might do me good. I’ve seen enough of it to know that it won’t do me any good. Again, I’m not complaining, but my welfare is definitely not going to go according to her plan. If that’s the case, I might as well go back to my parents’. My aunt and uncle are retired so they’re home all the time. At least at my parents’ house, they go to work so I get the house to myself all day where I can freely record podcasts and masturbate.

Eventually, if I move out on my own, I’ll probably move to another country. Fuck free health care. I never get sick anyway. Okay… I totally suck at ending this positively. Umm… let me just clarify that I’m not just glooming around my aunt’s house and that I’m currently being a very pleasant houseguest. I’m just looking into the future through my dark depressing lens.

Worse Than Death

When there’s nothing left to look forward to, death seems like such a lucrative option. I hate to be so melodramatic but at this point in life, I no longer have anything to look forward to. I used to think that I might get married someday but now that just seems like a hassle, having to deal with another human being and all. I may be speaking from inexperience, but I’m not even looking forward to sex anymore since that requires me to deal with another human being, a lot. Sure, masturbating and the real thing might be very different but I reckon masturbating might be better; I give an awesome hand job after all.

Around the time I started this blog, I felt pretty lonely and wanted to talk to people. But I’ve grown past that. Now that I no longer look forward to interacting with people, and being fine with it, there’s really not much in life to work for. In the meantime, life still throws heaps of shit towards me. Without the good times to outweigh the bad, it’s hard to find a reason to not just die.

Video games used to be a big part of my life and for a while I was working towards a career in creating them. I’ve been losing interesting in gaming for the past few years and recently, I just realized that it’s gotten pretty bad. I haven’t been productive at all for the past month(s). My main goal each day is just to try and enjoy life enough to not think about death. Sure, while I’m playing some new games, there are fleeting moments of joy but I’m so unmotivated that I don’t even feel like playing to get those moments of joy. Sometimes, I simply don’t feel like picking up the controller and would rather do nothing. I guess those are just textbook signs of depression.

Well, I already rambled more than I wanted to so let me get to the reason why I created this new entry. I’m pretty much extending my life at this point only because my friends say that death is the worst option. I have no motivation to do any work and I want to burden others as little as possible. I’m basically looking to make my life worse than death so that death becomes justifiable. One approach is to go to prison. I’m very open to the idea and that prison might actually not be that bad. Some might say I’m looking forward to it. If it turns out alright, then I’ll live on a tad longer and see what happens. If it sucks, then I have my reason to die. Hopefully I would have time to kill myself in between bouts of getting raped. I brought up this whole prison thing because one of my friends decided to try and make a show out of it where we basically talk about this absurd “goal” of mine. Just like this blog, although I’m talking about a depressing topic (depression), I try to keep it relatively lighthearted and include as much funny as I can. Hopefully, you will find it enjoyable. http://www.youtube.com/user/talkprison

The Depth of Depression

There are many levels of depression. For a lot of my life, depression had lingered around, tampering with my motivation and making it harder to do things. But that’s all it used to do, make things harder. In the past few days, it has become debilitating. That is a whole different level. It’s a miracle that I can even write this blog in my current state. As of now, I am completely misunderstood and if I were to end my life, people would think that it was a stupid and impulsive thing to do. Stupid? Maybe. Some people think that suicide is always stupid. They’re entitled to their opinions. But impulsive? No. But it’s hard to justify that given I’m only 22 and haven’t lived my life at all yet.

I force myself to treat this blog as my last attempt to get people to understand me. Even as I write this, I realize its futility and perhaps in just a couple of days, I will lose the motivation to continue writing. Every time I re-read one of my sentences, I recognize how stupid it sounds and my motivation drops. I mean, c’mon, getting people to understand me? Who gives a shit? I can’t believe I even wrote that. Why am I lying to myself? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m doing this for money and recognition. Even when I don’t give a shit about life, I’m still so vain as to pursue the impossible dream of making a name for myself.

I envy the depressed people who can’t find a reason to get out of bed. Being riddled with insomnia is another reason why I’m doing this. I can’t even lay in bed like a corpse. I get up, check my email and facebook and find zero messages. Look for someone who I can complain about my shitty life to. Find no one. Go to bed. Can’t sleep. And repeat this hellish cycle again.

When I listened to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast episode 190, the interview with Todd Hanson, it really opened my eyes. I will provide the link again here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mnOgjJwO14

Todd Hanson had been experiencing his depression for 20 or so years before he decided he should just end his life. I’ve only been depressed for 6 years or so and I still have a bit of desire to live. But if I extrapolate the bleakness of life to 20 more years, I can completely understand why Todd decided that it’s better off for him to end his life.

Then Todd talks about how he tried to end his life. I started becoming more interested and used his experience as a simulation for what could happen if I go down the same path. Somehow he survives but he ended up being in the hospital for 30 days. During that time, he was really touched by all the people who visited him. Even when they failed to cheer him up, they kept showing up to be there for him. There was one woman in particular who showed up practically everyday. Then I started thinking about what would’ve happened if I were in the hospital recovering from a failed suicide attempt. I wouldn’t have anyone visiting me. Even if there were people who are there for me during that time, it’s only a temporary thing. Once I get out of the hospital, everything will be back to normal and I’ll be just as alone as I was before. In fact, that happened to Todd too to some degree. I’m amazed that he was able to survive the tough times after that. To know that people will show up and pretend to be there for me, but they can’t spare time for me when I need them most on lonely nights, that would kill me. Actually, I would be the one killing myself, but that would be the reason for it.

I had these feelings when I first listened to the podcast a few months ago. Before writing this entry, I listened to it again and the feelings are even stronger now. Back to the question of why I’m writing this suicide blog… it’s a very petty reason. I don’t want people to look down on me when I end my life. I want them to know it’s their fault. Fuck everyone who wasn’t there for me when I was alive. I’m not saying I deserve help just cause I’m crying for help like a baby with this blog. But if you read this and do nothing about it, when I die, don’t go spewing nonsense saying you don’t understand why I would do something like this. You never gave a shit when I was alive, so don’t pretend to give a shit after I die.

Why Am I Depressed?

I won’t pretend like I understand why I’m depressed. I have some theories but they will also be disproved within this entry. One thing I do know is that I hate the flaws of being human. Everything, like my genetic inferiority, mood swings, over stimulation, you name it, I hate it. Emotionally healthy people would be able to embrace these flaws but I can’t stand them. Why must I be depressed? On a logical level, I know that I’m not in a terrible situation and even if I do feel sad, I should get over it. But I can’t get over it. I tell myself to steel my heart and not feel these emotions, but that doesn’t work. I then try the opposite and hope to cry it out, but I can’t shed a fuckin’ tear for myself either.

What is my current situation? I’m 22. I live with my parents. I pay no rent. I do no chores. I have no responsibilities. I neither work nor go to school. I can basically just sit on my ass and watch TV all day. On paper, it sounds fuckin’ awesome but I am absolutely miserable. I have no real aspirations, no goals, no reason for living. I have never had a romantic life, and my social life is pretty barren as well. Actually, one of my friends is coming over right now to play some ping pong. But so what? We hit a few balls, we get amused like chimps and move on with our lives. I may still have a few social interactions here and there, but there’s no connection. Sure, I’m a bit less depressed while I’m cracking jokes with my friends but once they go home, it just leaves me feeling even lonelier afterwards. The instant gratification of living in a developed society has given me an insatiable need to be entertained.

A big part of why I feel depressed right now is because I don’t talk to other humans on a regularly basis. Sure, I live with my parents but I barely say a word to them. In fact, I just grunt most of the time. I have gone days and weeks without saying a word to another human being. If I disappeared, no one would know, and no one would care.

Actually that’s not quite true. My parents would definitely notice if I’m gone. But there’s no love lost there. At the risk of sounding like a stupid teenager, they don’t know me at all. They don’t know anything about my personal projects, what I studied in school, my strengths, my weaknesses, heck they don’t even speak English. Sure they will be sad at first, but only because of the idea of losing a son, not me specifically. They’ll get a bad reputation for being bad parents, so if anything, they might despise me for dying on them. Reputation aside, they should actually be glad that it’s load off their hands since they’ll no longer have to do my laundry or cook for me.

It would seem that if I can somehow find a friend who can commit enough time to me, then my depression problem can be solved. But such a friend does not exist for me. In the previous entry, I mentioned that some people use suicide threats as a cry for help and I said that that was shallow and stupid and they deserve to die. I recognize that this blog is a cry for help and I’m not going to be hypocritical. If I do end up killing myself, I would indeed be one of the shallow and stupid people I hate and I deserve to die. Right now, I’m just shallow, I’m not stupid yet.

At this point, I would almost like to conclude that feelings of depression are strongly tied into a person’s social life. However, my messed up father is the perfect example to disprove that. He has no friends. None. The other day, one of his old friends called to wish him Merry Christmas and he literally got pissed at my mom for bothering him by handing him the phone. He’s a bit of a workaholic and doesn’t appear to have any hobbies. Well, if verbal abuse can be considered a hobby, then that would be his hobby. Several times a day, he’ll yell at my mom for being the dumbass that she is, and he even yells at me on occasion too. But he doesn’t yell at me for long because I don’t respond to him at all and one would get bored very quickly yelling at a rock. How long can a person yell at a rock for? Maybe a minute?

Next I want to discuss my realization of the depth of my depression. Marc Maron’s WTF podcast episode 190, interview with Todd Hanson, helped me a lot in my realization of my own depression. That was an amazing story to listen to. Very sad, very touching. Anyone who gets any joy out of reading sad depression related stories would enjoy it very much. There’s a lot to talk about it so I will give it an entry of its own. Here’s a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mnOgjJwO14