Here we go:
Quote:
The realization that no one cares about me is liberating in a way (but very destructive in others). I used to struggle to try to figure out how to get somebody to help me. I posted in online support groups. I went to counselors, who just told me useless drivel like, "When you're feeling like that, go on a walk" and "Think positively!" I tried telling my dad I had thoughts about wanting to die (he laughed at me). I tried talking to a group of friends, who ignored me. For a long time, I kept trying because I thought that was what I needed to do and what I was supposed to do. That's what all of the websites tell you, right? "If you're suffering with depression, reach out to someone."
Then the realization set in that people aren't not helping me because they can't. Some can't ,but for most, it's because they don't want to. They'd rather spend their time other ways. They have their own problems...which is fine; it's just reality. I don't reach out for help anymore. I know I will never get it, and I know I don't really deserve it either. I just lock myself in my room and cry for hours by myself so I don't bother anybody. It's less stress on me this way to just accept that it's part of my daily routine.
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Maybe it's time then.
EDIT: I just can't bear it though. I need it. I force myself to realize that no one cares about my posts here, just like no one cared about my posts anywhere. I want to make people care, really care. Maybe self-isolation will teach me to do that. I want to have a self and have that self be respected and loved - the very thing people say will never happen. I can't stop myself, even if it's the equivalent of talking to inanimate objects. I can't go it alone; I apparently can't fix myself at all.
Some people find the "no one cares, your life isn't meaningful" spiel liberating, since it absolves any shoulds. I find it horrifying and hopeless. God, all I wanted was a happy life and some beautiful things. And someone to love me.