I Reject Happiness Defiantly

I don't want to be negative anymore but I need to vent.

I try to talk to people about it but the truth is that nothing anyone could say would make me feel better because I don't even want to feel better. And that is a lot of what's bugging me. I just tried to explain it to my friend and I know he understood, but what can he really say? Nothing.

This is what I told him:

I don't want to be depressed, but I feel like letting go of my depression would mean that I'm satisfied with a life that is not good enough.

But what is good enough? Nothing would be good enough. I would still be depressed no matter what. Because even when I have things to be happy about and when things are going good for me, at the end of the day I still come home and have a fucking panic attack. I still feel like Atlas, but the world is on my chest rather than my shoulders.

And any moments I feel a fleeting sense of happiness, I stop myself. Because I always, always eventually come down and that's even worse than a steady feeling of depression. I don't know if the happiness is even high enough to call mania. And what induces this happiness-like feeling isn't normal either.

It's like I get some kind of stimulus on a certain part of my brain which makes me happy. But it's never something that makes sense or that would make anyone else happy. Really, nothing ever does happen to me that should make me happy in a normal way, but I have experienced a true sense of contentment, when I was in love.

But anyway, something that I find strangely exciting will stimulate some part of my brain and it will make me feel...high/fake-happy/up, whatever. And I'll feel that way for a while, and I'll ride this weird wave where I'm hyper and talkative and everything makes sense and all of those motivating things I tell myself when I'm depressed seem to actually be working. But then within a few hours or possibly a couple days it comes to a screeching hault and I fully realize depression yet again.

For example, today I went out with my family and the car broke down while I was driving it. I'm supposed to be given this car within the next month. So anyway, it broke down on the side of the road and we had to wait for my mom to come pick us up and all this shit. So I was stuck out somewhere in the dark with my cousin's 10-year-old friend and we were exploring some abandoned area where a building had been torn down.

I have no idea, but this like stimulated my brain to get all excited and happy and shit. Is that normal? Is it normal to get up on this shaky high point because of being stuck out in the middle of nowhere after having your car break down? Because these are really the only sorts of things that make me feel any shred of a positive emotion. Weird, semi-dangerous experiences. Drugs, 2 day flings with random people, doing shit that I know is dangerous and will scare me, shoplifting and committing other petty crimes, etc. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Most of the time, I don't do shit like that. But when I do, it's the only time I feel something besides absolute misery.

So now I'll tell you what I do usually do.

I usually feel incredibly, almost unbearably, depressed and useless. Constantly questioning the point of everything to the most naked and minuscule degree. And it's horrible. So I escape through my imagination. I go to a world I've created for myself in my head. I listen to music which ignites my fantasies. I write out stories which come from these fantasies, and some from my worst fears. I constantly drench and drown myself with any kind of escapism I can. Music, movies, tv shows, books, my imagination, my writing, my guitar playing, fucking anything and everything I can turn into some form of escapism. It's pretty much been my specialty my whole life.

And now, now I'm so sick and tired of doing even that. I'm so sick and tired of escaping. The only thing I'm not sick of and that I will never be sick of is truth.

Right now I'm in the weirdest mood. I was on that high earlier, but I purposely brought myself out of it to prevent myself from falling down. And I just feel like I shouldn't allow myself to escape anymore. I shouldn't listen to music, I shouldn't write, I shouldn't fantasize. I should just force myself to deal with my shit with no garnishes thrown on top.

I don't know why. I don't think it'll make a difference.

There's so much I want out of life but I don't think it would even matter if I got it.

I think I'm a fucking joke and that life is a joke in general. I'm a joke because, basically, I'm not a hustler. I'm not the kind of person that knows how to figure out how to get what I want out of life. I'm weak, and lazy, and people like me never succeed. I don't even truly have an idea of success because I think that happiness is a lie, but how can something be success if it doesn't make you happy? Maybe if I believed in happiness I could figure out how to get what I think I want. But I don't. It's fleeting and I don't like fleeting things. I love them but I hate them.

The weird thing is, I'm not even thinking about killing myself. Physically, at least. Secretly, I made a promise to myself not to kill myself. Almost as a game. To see how much pain and bullshit my body could put up with. Like a true champ, like a true masochist, like a true childhood Christian (god wouldn't put you through anything you can't handle, right?). But aside from that, now I'm mature enough to understand that ending my own suffering would not be worth putting my parents through that hell. I will stay alive, even if I'm miserable, just so that the people who love me won't have to go through that. It would be awful, even if the people who cared were very few.

I really feel like crying right now because I think I know what would make me truly happy but it just seems so ridiculous and impossible.

I think I could be truly happy if I was surrounded by a group of people who I really felt truly loved me, who were positive and understanding and wanted to support me in everything that I did. A family of friends. Because even though I love my family, they are all bitter and depressed and hateful people. I can't stand being around my mom anymore. I try to be in a good mood and make her happy but she just won't. She's on too many prescription drugs (and methadone) and she'll never stop taking it. But yes, I just would really like to be surrounded by positive, supportive people and I would like to be in a romantic relationship with someone like that too but I've never met anyone who'd accept me in that sort of situation.

I have no idea what the fuck I'm going to do.

I've really thought everything so many times over and over again.

But within the past couple of days I've been reading about Albert Camus, and from what I've read, what he believes is exactly like me. I need to read something he's actually written now. But for now I'll end this with a quote by him that is exactly how I feel about religion and why I decidedly became a total atheist a few months ago,

"People should reject God defiantly in order to pour out all their loving solicitude upon mankind."