how many times can i use humour to cope?

i haven’t written here for a little bit.

Why is it that every single night that i abuse alcohol, i despise going back home?

maybe a certain extent of it comes from the fact that i avoid my emotions, because when the party ends , so does my ability to distract myself from the reality of my life.

i may struggle with mental illness, but it isn’t just that, its the person i am. i’m broken through and through, there is something lacking within me and it’s absolutely tragic.

i write this semi wasted, because i know that it’s fucked that i try to pretend that i’m anything but this failure that pretends and creates this bullshit image of growing as a person. i know for a fact who i am. i know my failures and I know that i’ll never be able to change who i am as a person. i’m a failure. i know it. don’t pretend like it’s not true, because i can see how i’ve failed every single person in my life as well. you can sit there and wish for the best for me and i will consistently disappoint you. you know that, whether you’re my partner, my friend or even just an acquaintance. you see this completely different version of who i am. you think that i’ll inevitably find my way because of the notion that i’m still improving and growing.

but have you ever considered, that i stopped growing a while ago?

i stopped growing at 18, whether it’s my height or just who i am , you likely know me since i was younger, but all you can see when you look at me is wasted potential.

i don’t know how you could’ve ever thought that i would’ve found a way to actually deal with my problems and healthily cope with my own fucked up reality.

there is no doubt that my life is easy, i don’t have to deal with financial turmoil neither do i have to deal with parental pressure. all i have to deal with is myself and that is my biggest problem, you may think that i’m capable of surpassing my own capacity of self destruction or sabotage, but i’m not . i’m a fucking loser and i know that for a fact.

you can sit in either your ivory tower or from the bottom and look at me as a waste of space and i wont disagree with you because i know my inherent value and it is disgusting. i know i lack the capacity to actually make that proper change because no matter what, this person i am, this person i’ve become is inherently incapable of being better.

you can give me as many medications, as many life tips, as fucking many cold showers, i know that my life is doomed. i will never see it otherwise. i hate who i am, and i hate who i’ve become as a person, and the reason i am the way i am is a complete result of my own decisions, whether that be my romantic relationships, or my platonic ones. people are ashamed to know me, people don’t want to be around me, and all i do is force them to do so. the only reason why i likely do it is because of this narcissistic desire to feed myself with the engagement of others. i know it, the people i want to be around do not want me around. it’s not that difficult to interpret that, whether it’s an unread text or the complete ignoring of me, it is a consistent verifiable truth.

those that love me are severely mistaken about who i am, they see this version of me that is a complete lie, they see a better version of who i am. i am not that unfortunately. a lot of you have your life figured out, whether that’s a job offer or just a level of surety of what you intend to do, but me, i’m still stunted, still figuring out who i am, still looking at your success and thinking to myself how it could’ve been something that i potentially could’ve had. and maybe that is my fault, i see your successes and definitely feel happy for you but this notion of being lost and useless dominates my conscience far more than anything else.

it’d be wrong to blame my circumstances, my upbringing may have been rough, or maybe unconventional, but it wasn’t as fucked up as others’. just because my parents didn’t understand their complete responsibilities when i was born, doesn’t mean i didn’t have the opportunity to succeed at any stage. they just gave up. i had the opportunity to disappoint my family and i succeeded in doing so throughout my entire life. they thought i could’ve been someone really intelligent and capable of making a difference, but they realised over time that who i am as a person makes sure that i’m lacking the capacity to achieve any of it.

you can sit there judge my breakdowns and laugh over this pretentious misery i exist in. my misery is existential, i know that this feeling isn’t something that’ll escape me with time, because this reality of who i am. you can peacefully deal with the idea that you’re a decent human being, but me, i know myself to not be part of that subset. a lot of my pain is self inflicted, i know i do all of this to myself, and maybe one day i’d be able to lie to you and pretend that i’m finally okay, but in reality, at the core, i will always be the broken shell of the man i am.

“ you do it to yourself, you do, and that’s why it really hurts”

i really do bring all of this onto myself, whether it was my drug habit or my alcoholism, it’s self inflicted. you’ll never understand this level of self-hatred, it goes beyond just hating your reflection in the mirror. it’s when every meal, every word, every single fucking step reminds you that you’re a piece of shit.

you see me, you see the waste of potential or the lack of it, you can tell it. it’s my reality and i won’t fight it, there are those that’ll battle the notions of them being failures by using ways that make them seem better than they are. i won’t do that anymore. i’ve just come to the point that i know that i don’t have any reason to contest it.

i’ve been to therapy, i’m on meds, i’ve even thought about resorting to the philosophical suicide, god. but none of it gets rid of this internal hatred. that isn’t to say you shouldn’t do therapy, you should, it has done things for me that have shaped my life for the better. but, it doesn’t change your perception of yourself, but if it did that for you i’m glad it worked for you. but it doesn’t completely work for me, even though i can function on a day to day basis, my misery and my feelings aren’t things that disappear.

i’m not the troubled creative you think i am.

my desires may vary from day to day but the majority of them are mediocre average desires that aren’t completely unachievable. this notion that i suffer because i’m inherently a creative isn’t something that’s true. i’m not any more creative than you, if anything, the people reading this are far more creative than me. my candour is what makes me seem like a person of arts, that this level of openness makes me seem like a creative.

you realise that i have to do this right?

i very often feel like i’m going crazy, and the only way i can make sure that i’m not is if i actually voice these unhinged feelings to real people. i have to do this because there is an inherent part of me that is missing, and i feel like it isn’t something that can be filled with anything.

i struggle with mental illness, you know that at this point. and it isn’t easy to do deal with that when your aspirations are things that require you to be a stable and a contributing member of society. i struggle daily, my room is filled with trash, i haven’t showered in weeks, i’m not completely there as a person. i don’t feel complete, i don’t feel like a person.

i promise to each one of you, i am trying, i am trying as hard as i can to change these things about myself. i do my level best to be a better version of myself, a better friend you can rely on, a better coworker you can trust, a better person that you can confidently love.

but you know i’m failing right?

despite my best attempts i succumb to who takes precedence in my conscience, the part of me that despises myself. this isn’t a person that goes away, a person i can ignore, it’s who i am. no matter what you do, i look at the mirror with such a deep hatred that i can’t match anything with it.

i’d talk about politics, i’d talk about how much that is even making me feel like more like a piece of shit, another fucking mulla that’s gonna be meaningless in the history of our culture. but it’d be unfair to blame anything on it. at the end of the day, i’m a protected class, and meeting a couple more affluent muslims, they seem to be able to deal with this with no issue whatsoever. i know i bring politics onto myself, when i can just very easily detach myself from all of this.

i decided my life was gonna be a wreck a long time ago.

i knew a while ago. i knew in 10th grade that i had a choice to either become the person that others want from me or become the wreck i desired to become.

i made that decision then, and i live with it now.

you might not get it, when you hate yourself so much, you just want to make sure that every part of you fails. that’s why i can’t hold successful relationships, that’s why my friends see me as a loose canon, that’s why i’ll never live up to the qualities that inspire the notion of potential.

i hope you realise, there is none.

it’s done, my life feels like i’m doomed to live out in mediocrity. i’ve said this before, but i’ve always feared mediocrity, but now i know that is my only option. i’m not a silicon valley bro, i’m not an innovative thinker, i’m not a capable leader. this is my reality, i shall live out my short lifespan with this pain and misery.

i have no reason to be as miserable as i am. i know that.

but is it over for me?

maybe it isn’t.