Overwhelmed. That's the only word that can describe how I feel right now. I'm drowning in emotions, thoughts, and ideas that I can barely function. Perhaps writing out the issue will provide some relief.
Physical Strife
I've returned to self-harming. I don't even need benzos or painkillers to do it anymore. I can slash myself to the white meat and just sit with the pain. It barely phases me. In fact, there's a part of it that feels deliciously good. It's an entire experience - the blood that drips, the sight of carved-out flesh, the sensation of being obliterated. It all comes together beautifully. I'm not even ashamed of my scars anymore. I think what I've done to myself is quite remarkable, and not many people could manage. If only I could challenge that willpower and dedication to something worthwhile, but I'm stupid as frick and all I can do is longpost and do drugs.
I tried to contact my psychiatrist but they're closed until January. I made an appointment with a GP for today but I don't really know what I'm going to do or say. Just tell them I've been self-harming and having panic attacks? I don't know what they can do for me. I doubt they'll be allowed to prescribe me anything, since I'm technically still supposed to have a supply of benzos for the month (I ate them all ages ago).
Should I go or should I just leave it? I think what I'm really looking for is just someone to talk to, though I don't know if a GP is the right person to be talking to.
As I write this, I'm listening to Nas Illmatic, and I'll say it's my top 5 most favorite albums of all time, and I'd argue it's the greatest hip hop album of all time. I think Life's a B-word is the greatest rap song of all time, and AZ absolutely kills it.
My favorite line is:
I switched my motto; instead of sayin', "Frick tomorrow!"
That buck that bought a bottle could've struck the lotto
I love how it encapsulates that "quiet violence of dreams". We have a vision of someone trying to escape the sins of their environment, but their most reliable means of escaping their heck is to win the fricking lotto. There's such a sense of futility and misery wrapped in these lines.
Social Strife
So it's clear I don't belong here. Everywhere I go I annoy people and make them angry. People have actively verbalized that they don't like me, and this recurring pattern is one that has characterized my life since childhood. It isn't a big problem - I'm a generally introverted person. However, I'm not schizoid and I do need some amount of love and acceptance. I fail to find these things and that makes me sad.
I'm so fricking depressed about being an incel. I'm 29, broke, no hope of GF, children or marriage. I can't even buy hookers because nobody's going to frick a dude with actively bleeding legs. I have literally permanently locked myself out of s*x for the rest of my life with my mental illness and self-harm. I do wonder, if I had the same personality, but I wasn't a 156cm ugly black man, would I still be an incel? These are questions we need quantum computers to answer.
I crave self-harm right now but my appointment is in three hours and I don't know if I can stop myself from cutting until then. And again, I'll probably be wasting my time and money going to a GP who is going to look at me and say "I didn't go to school to deal with schizos" and refer me to a psychiatrist which, as I have highlighted, is gone until January.
Conclusion
I don't know whether I should go to the doctor or not. Am I wasting my time? What am I hoping to achieve?
Well Reddit is shit and I need something to do when I'm not playing RDR2 so I guess I'm stuck with you r-slurs. You people who will give me griefing awards, insult me, tell me to kms, and accuse me of using ChatGPT (an accusation which confuses me. There are tons of plagiarism detection sites online. Proving I use ChatGPT would be trivial, yet nobody does it).
I'm so fricking overwhelmingly sad I can't think straight. This was supposed to be a longpost about Eugene Terre'Blanche but I'm too sad to do it.
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Neighbor I've been trying for years at this point to get through your thicc as frick skull but you only listen to the fricking negative comments. You won't even upmarsey we when I have written long as frick comments trying to help you and talk to you. Your brain autofilters for the fricking bad shit because of your OCD which is fricking also the fricking root of your obsessive cutting.
Get offline, get meds, get therapy. When you're actually trying you get so far. You were fricking going clubs, you talked to Sarah and confessed your feelings, which took lots of fricking balls and accepting you were not fricking asexual.
You have real potential to be happy.
Even if you can never get laid, which I think is not fricking even close to being an immutable fate, life's so much more than that. Stop thinking with your peepee and go outside ffs. And stop visiting weird incel forums >:C
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What he needs or wants is genuine sympathy to prove to himself that the universe isn't as cold as he worries it is. He's looking for it in the worst possible place.
Sneedman whatever you need in life you won't find it here. I feel for you man and so do some others here but a few sympathetic people, in an internet community that's mostly hostile to sympathy, who will never meet you, aren't going to do you any good.
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I've had s*x and I'm still the same dysfunctional neurodivergent I was before.
Get some hobbies that aren't videogames. If they require you to go outside, even better.
The worst thing you can do is to sit around and focus on things that make you sad.
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