Is the world really that terrible, or am I just tired of what's happening?
I don't know why, but I feel like life and the world have no meaning anymore. I'm trying to stave off boredom every day, but doing something or imagining myself doing something only makes it worse. I feel so tired of everything that I can't process anything anymore.
Maybe I just have some health issues, which is why I'm having these obsessive thoughts. I've never experienced anything like this before, so I don't know what's wrong with me.
Every day my thoughts go deeper and deeper. It all started with me not being able to accept my shortcomings and how boring my life was. I'm not very attractive, I'm bad at all sports, I'm smart enough to learn, but I lack willpower, patience, and I'm lazy. All typical human shortcomings. But for some reason, this began to bother me too much.
I watched from everywhere how everyone else was enjoying themselves. In various books and TV series, the heroes were having interesting adventures; in reality, people were doing what they loved, having a great time. I was, so to speak, envious of them all. I understood that it was impossible to please everyone, and that there were far more people like me than I envied, but it was offensive: why should I, and those worse off, have to put up with this?
Then I realized I was perfectly capable of correcting most of my shortcomings, but what then? When I came to this realization, I realized that the things the people I envied did also held no interest for me, and any activity I could imagine seemed meaningless and insignificant. For example, I thought about how cool it would be to go on a short boat trip alone or with a group of friends, but the question "why?" immediately made me lose interest. I'd always thought that searching for meaning in something was also pointless and that purpose wasn't necessary for enjoyment, but now I'm incapable of that.
I realized that everything in reality had begun to irritate and infuriate me. I began to see the world without embellishment. I began to treat myself as honestly as possible in order to improve myself. I realized that all the people around me, my friends and family, basically don't care about how I am. I know that all relationships are, at their core, to put it simply, mutually beneficial.
A friend can help you at any time without expecting anything in return, but when they need help and you don't come to them, they'll be upset, because you owe them a helping hand, after all, they've always helped you as a friend, and you should reciprocate. But relationships like friendships, romantic relationships, and family are warmer and more open than business relationships between business partners. In close relationships, you're willing to take risks and trust the person; that's what sets them apart. But I realized that everyone around me doesn't trust me, isn't capable of doing anything for me, while I often do the same for them.
But I realized I'd never seen a friendship like this, where people truly trusted each other. I'd only seen it in TV shows, movies, books, anime, and so on, as if it were something people could only dream of. I started accusing everyone around me of lying and being greedy to me and everyone around them. I often saw my friends at school, and even now, just plain bullying people who were deformed due to injuries or were simply born that way. Maybe it bothered me, but now I can't stand it anymore. I started thinking that everyone in the world is cruel, incapable of trust, deceitful, and selfish. Of course, there are exceptions, but that only makes things worse, because there are fewer of them, and for them, life is only harder.
But I realized I was no better. I sometimes joined in the mockery of others. And I still feel bad about it. I realized this, but the realization was insufficient. Although I began to feel guilty, I still hadn't done anything to improve. Now I've almost stopped mocking others' failures, etc. But I realized that most people who struggle with health are ugly; if they suddenly became perfect, many would start mocking those who were worse than them. I suffered for a long time from acne, so severe that my face resembled a swamp. After I underwent treatment, after a while, I began to laugh at those I saw with skin problems. And it wasn't just me; I knew other people like that.
I felt so sad. Could it be that even when I completely improve my character and stop being a jerk, I won't find friends who will be true to me and to each other, who will be real friends, and not just people with similar interests?
I also lost interest in everything. I realized that looking for friends was pointless, and I thought about what I wanted from life. What had I been doing for so many years? Where I am now, I'm bored and sad, but why am I here? I feel like a child again, trying to find myself. But I didn't want anything; I thought about everything: becoming an economist, an architect, a psychologist, a writer, or maybe an artist. But everything seemed boring; it wouldn't have changed anything.
I read and watched a lot. I love sci-fi, fantasy, and works that focus on the characters' intellect and make you think. After I lost interest in everything, I thought about what it would be like if I were the hero of such a story. Yes, it would be great, maybe even very interesting, but what then? The story will end, maybe when I'm still young, but then I'll definitely be unsatisfied. And what if at the end of such a story comes the time when my end comes? I realized that even if my whole life consisted of adventures, I still wouldn't be satisfied. I'd be terrified of death, because with it comes the end of happiness. Of course, I'm afraid of the end.
I'm afraid of death, but I don't know what I want from life. Thoughts of suicide have crossed my mind, but not in the usual sense. I've often wondered, "What's the point of suicide?" I understand that for people who suffer a lot, it makes sense for them to end it. But why do people like me, who don't experience physical pain, kill themselves? I've thought about this for a long time, but I still haven't found an answer.
I began to live in my dreams. Childhood dreams of a beautiful world, magical, magical, complex, different from our own. A world where people are not so important, where there is something or someone greater than people. A world far removed from the human vices of this world. A pure, unblemished paradise. This idea of the world is my dream. Yes, it may be stupid, but still, it's the only thing I can think of right now. An imaginary world that can't possibly exist. Many people think about something like that, right? After all, that's what escapism is for. People play computer games, watch TV series, watch anime for various reasons. Some because of difficulties in life, some are bored, some can't stand all the crap going on in the world and in their lives. But everyone does the same thing: dream. Everyone puts themselves in the shoes of the lucky person who escaped here. Yes, it's stupid, many think it's strange. But if you think about it, everyone does it. But I'm tired of simple escapism. I'm tired of this illusion that I'm supposedly part of these stories. I'm a simple spectator. Like a starving person who satisfies his hunger by watching others feast.
Some might think my whole problem is connected to too many computer games and something else. Partially, yes. I can't enjoy that kind of relaxation anymore. Because it doesn't feel right anymore. It's living in an illusion and avoiding reality, and I'm sick of it. But I can't stand reality anymore either. And now I'm at a dead end; neither reality nor avoiding it is a way out for me. But I feel like there's a third way out.
But I don't know what that is. Another idea is to turn a dream into reality, but that's absolutely impossible. I'm not talking about writing about such a world or making my life similar, no. I want the real thing. I've been searching for what I want for a long time, and this is my dry formulation of desires, no matter how bad or strange it may be, it's the first thing I found in my current state.
And now, when I'm in this state, when nothing has been resolved, and everything else is only going nowhere faster, I cling to the feeling of a third path. But I don't know what it is. It's like I'm in a desert, dying of dehydration, when the only choice left is an agonizing death from thirst with beautiful dreams of crystal-clear water, and the reality of having to drink from a dirty puddle to survive, and seeing a mirage of a lake of clear water, but not knowing if it's real.
I'm a religious person. While I was in this state, I kept putting off asking God for help, wanting to figure things out on my own without putting the blame on someone else. But now I'm at a loss. Many of my problems are described in this post. But right now, only this dream troubles me. I feel like this dream is silly, but I feel like I want it because I'm tired of life here. No matter how good and comfortable this life and this world are, for some reason I can't accept it anymore. It may sound spoiled and selfish, but I don't care anymore.
And now, when I'm stuck between a hateful reality and an impossible dream, I rely only on the feeling that there's a way out. I don't know what it might be, or if there even is one. Due to my limitations, I can no longer do anything. I grasp at anything, even started praying, because I feel like I'm unlikely to find answers to my questions.
Speaking of suicide again. Thoughts about it have started coming more frequently, and more concretely. I've seriously started thinking about doing it. But I know I don't have the strength or courage to do it. I'm afraid I'll only make things worse. What if I suddenly snap out of this state. "What if God punishes me for destroying myself? What if a miracle happens, and I get to live my dream while I'm still alive?" These questions have become commonplace.
Right now, I can only endure as long as I can. Although, looking at it objectively, I look more like a fool who's simply bored with everything. Right now, all I have is faith, faith in miracles, without certainty, without an alibi that something good can happen for me. And now I'm just enduring until my patience runs out.
This all sounds more like the ramblings of a madman or the whims of a child. Maybe so, but I can't help it. The text turned out incredibly long, probably because I wrote it for about a month, digesting my thoughts for so long.