Beautiful Sunday

  Today is a better day. I don’t feel as miserable or as hopeless. I don’t have as many depressive episodes lately, which is of course a massive improvement. When I do have them, they’re pretty bad. I cry, I self-deprecate, I judge myself harshly, but once it passes and I can see clearly I feel better. Cleansed almost. Not in some hippy dippy way, but it’s unarguable that an emotional and mental disposal is often necessary to get through to the other side. And that’s okay. It’s actually really healthy.

  It’s weird. When I’m in it and I can’t see properly in the dark, I want anything else to be happening at all. But once it’s over I feel better. Usually in the morning after a really deep, long sleep. I often don’t think about it at all. Only now that I’m reflecting on my last one am I actually thinking about it. My head feels fogged. I know what caused it, but it seems so silly and insignificant now.

  For what it’s worth, I’m in a good place right now. How long will it last? I don’t know. But right now, everything is okay.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

16/02/2020

Happy Valentines Day

  I don’t know what to title this, so. It’s not like it matters anyway. This place has just become a dumping ground for my feelings where they’re mostly safe from prying eyes. Nobody visits here anyway, so there’ll be no intruders. It’s just you and I for now.

  I don’t know what it is lately, but I feel alone. Isolated even when there’s somebody in the flat with me. All I have to do in the daytime is scroll social media, and in hindsight that makes me feel worse. I get to see all the fun things my friends are doing with their friends, posting all their fun times together but never when I’m involved. I post a lot about other people, but nobody ever posts about me. It doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s pretty irrelevant but it’s just funny to me how everybody gets mentioned here and there except me. Is there something wrong with me? Don’t I deserve the same attention everyone else gets? Jesus, what’s wrong with me. I just wish I could answer that question.

  I’m miserable. All the time. There’s nothing to do and when I’m unoccupied, it’s the worst. It hurts. If I had the guts, maybe I wouldn’t be here. I’m not suicidal, but sometimes it feels like things would be better if I wasn’t around. I wouldn’t hurt anymore. Nobody would have to bother thinking about me anymore. The people that are already in the process of forgetting me could do so guilt free. Because I know that’s what they’re doing, subconsciously or not, so many people I know just don’t feel the need to get in touch anymore.

  There must be something wrong with me. There has to be. But what? Do I radiate some kind of... I don’t know, unrelenting stench of fucking foulness that people just can’t bring themselves to continue being around me? I don’t want this anymore. I want anything else but this. I feel so empty, so sad, so upset, so angry, so frustrated. Nobody thinks about me and I’m sick of thinking about them. Always having to be the one that reaches out. What about me? What about when I need someone to reach out.

  I  want to cry. I need to cry. But I can’t. It just won’t come. I’ve spent so much time crying over people that don’t give a shit about me, and here I am still repeating the same process. How do I break the cycle? By not getting attached. That’s done me a world of good so far, so I need to keep that up. Stop getting attached to stupid, worthless people that have no use to me.

  I’m just sick of it. Sick of it all.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

14/02/2020

Hello

  I wrote a post not too long back, (around September time... so I guess it was a long time ago. Oh well), basically saying what had happened between me and a now ex-friend, but in the end I didn’t post it. Maybe I will sometime. It’s still in my drafts. It’s not that I was afraid to post it, or that I even forgot, I just couldn’t see the point. It was just a tonne of vented anger at a situation that wasn’t going to change. I have foresight now, but even then I knew that he wasn’t coming back.

  Fucking Road Man.

  I just hate being treated like I don’t matter. And it seems like everyone that gets their mitts on me, figuratively, manages it. And then when they have, they always go on about how they didn’t mean to fuck me up, how they didn’t see things how I’m being made to see them, and continue the fucking behaviour anyway. At the end of the day, people are fucked and you’re best off staying away from as many as you can. Don’t trust people easily, there’s no point. None at all. You don’t owe shit to anyone but yourself.

  Anyways, I got the app for this blog so now maybe I’ll post more often. I say that a lot, though, so I’ll try to show rather than tell.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

11/02/2020