I no longer have any hope left. When I first sought out the mental health services it was because of that very same thing. I was hopeless and wanted to die. Since then however my situation has only got worse. Approaching the mental health services was my “Hail Mary” play, and I tried my very best to benefit from the treatment and opportunities it provided, but it was all for nothing.

Last month signaled the end of all that for me. The mental health team had assigned me to the wrong type of therapist. She freely admitted that she was the wrong person for the job, but instead of reassigning me, they discharged me. My night classes at collage ended and I hadn’t made any friends there. The art therapy sessions ended. My creative arts group ended. The night club at CADS had its opening night and so volunteer opportunities dried up. The exhibit I was doing with the art group was like judgment day for me. What opportunities had I opened up? What friendships had I fostered? What lasting influence lay beyond? I was so stressed the day of the exhibit that I hadn’t slept for several nights before hand. I knew in my heart that things had failed and almost didn’t go, but instead put on my game face and tried my best one last time.

There were several opportunities that had some potential after that day. All seemed rather tentative, but I latched onto the hope they gave me and tried my best to make them work. I will detail them now as well as why they fell short.

The first is the new job that I had acquired as a sculptor. I put it first because it is the least of what I need in order to survive. The money would have been nice, as well as the sense of self-worth from working, but it would not provide me with the opportunities for friends and people that would care about me that I need to live a fulfilling life. The job didn’t work out of course. One of the guys who had asked me to work for him decided it was too much like hard work for himself and pulled out; taking what I had produced without paying what he’d promised. The second, more reliable, guy kept on promising and promising job opportunities, but never delivered. And so that was that.

The second opportunity given to me was the volunteer work at CADS. The head guy, Simon, told me that he was going to be working on the roof garden and asked if I would like to help out. When the day came, he told me not to bother coming in as they were putting the work back. The next week he told me the same again. The week after that he simply stopped responding to my messages and I haven’t had any contact with CADS since. And so this too fell flat.

The third opportunity came from a girl named Anna from the art group. It turned out that Anna and I had met years ago. She had actually been a close friend of my sister back in the day and we had both been in the same year at collage. She was also still friends with many of the people I used to know back then. We were both quite similar people as we came from the same heritage, and as such spoke the same language. We could have been good friends, as well as allowing me to remake contact with those long lost friends from years ago. We’d swapped numbers, but after the exhibit when I asked if she would like to meet up I was ignored. I didn’t press the matter beyond that, not wanting to pester her and hoping that she would do the friendly thing and be in touch. She did not.

The last opportunity came from a girl named Rosa. I’m going to go into a bit of detail here partly because it’s the one that was the most painful disappointment, but also because it outlines my problem perfectly and why my life is fundamentally broken.

On the day of the exhibit I didn’t want to leave. I knew that once the day was over it was “all over”, so I stayed until the very end. Rosa and I were the last two out the doors that night. As we left she asked if I would like to go for a drink with her. I accepted and we found a nice little pub. We ended up staying there for quite a while and I was amazed at how well the two of us clicked. It’s going to sound stupid, but I ended up falling in love with her that night. We parted ways with a hug and promised to keep in touch.

The next week I asked if she would like to meet up again, but she didn’t respond for another week. By the time she’d gotten back to me, what I’d had planned had already passed, so I asked her out again. Once more she didn’t respond. Another week passed and I asked again, making it clear that I was a little upset that she wasn’t making the effort. She got back to me and told me not to worry, but again made no mention of meeting up. After that I just cast it to the winds, ready to give up on her, and told her that if she ever feels like asking me out one day then I’d be happy with that. That weekend she called me up and asked me out. We went out on the town together and had a good night for the second time. The next week I heard about a band that was playing and wanted to go. I asked Rosa if she would like to come with me. She didn’t reply until hours after the gig had started. It actually worked out quite well as we ended up chatting on the phone together for ages. At the end of our conversation we agreed to meet up the next weekend. As the weekend approached I messaged her, but got no response. I rang her, but she didn’t pick up the phone. I sent another message asking her what was going on, but again she didn’t respond. I sent one final message in which I told her that I had strong feelings for her and that I was upset and confused by her hot and cold nature. This one she responded to, telling me that she doesn’t feel the same and that she has “real friends” that she wants to spend her time with and that I am just “an acquaintance from art group” and to politely leave her alone.

And this here is why I will never be happy. Every person I meet already has an established life. They have friends; family; husbands; wives. When they go out they want to affirm their existing friendships, not make the effort with the “acquaintance” they just met. When Rosa invited me out that one time, it was not to strengthen our budding friendship, it was because she had asked everyone else and they had said that they were busy. I was the last resort - the scrapings at the bottom of the barrel. And then, after making the effort to become friends I am accused of harassment. Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t. What is the alternative? Leave it to fate like I did with Anna. It might seem like I am focusing on just two people here, but trust me, this has been the same two results from every single person I have met for the last three years.

Because of this I have ended up completely alone. Every day is the same day. I wake up. I get dressed. I make a cup of tea and then I just wait for the day to end. Every pastime I have has gotten old and tired. All the joy has vanished from my life. It was almost bearable when I knew that in a few days, a week, a month, I might have something to do. But now all my threads have come to an end and I’m facing an endless, empty ocean of loneliness. I’m not living any more. We are reaching summer and most people are going to be out there making memories and having fun. But what memories am I going to have while I stare out the window at a world that has unanimously rejected me? I spent the whole year like this last year, but at least then I had my sister and her snobbish friends looking down at me. Now I don’t even have that. And the year before that was the same, although I had an abusive girlfriend during that time. I just can’t spend another year like this again; not without some sort of promise for the future.

I’m just so tired of every offer of friendship being rejected, every love been unrequited, every opportunity been a disappointment. I move through life experiencing a sequence of “last chances” and each and every one falls short. I no longer feel as though I am a normal person. I see other people living happy lives surrounded by friends and treated with love and respect and wonder why I am denied the same. The isolation I have experienced over the last few years has twisted my mind into something strange. I view existence so differently now. Everything feels fated and full of omens. It feels as though I am being punished or tortured for some unknown reason. I no longer have any fears or concern for consequences because nothing can be worse than inaction. I am falling into a pattern of self-neglect because I simply do not feel the need to maintain a body that I hate inhabiting. I think about suicide all the time, but I cannot bring myself to go through with it. I do not want to die. I want to live! I want to be happy! But it’s just so far away and out of reach and impossible.