FA+
Shop
Reaching out
10 years ago
To anyone who has decided to open up this journal today, or whenever, I thank you for doing so and want to say hi. I need to say though that I don't expect anyone to read this; I truly don't. Save for maybe a close friend or maybe even someone who wants to know me a bit more, understand what goes on in my head.
I, personally, would recommend anyone to leave though and don't bother reading this journal. It's going to be long and serious, maybe a bit of a rant. Along things I think up everyday, what's been bugging me as of late. I've finally been bugged enough to want to write about it, get it out there.
That being said
I hate writing this still. I hate it because I feel like... An ass for doing so. I'm reaching out; I need to understand and accept that. And by doing so I'm just being an attention seeking ass for doing it.
I'll say it once more though - If you want to read this, you certainly may and I'll enjoy you doing so. But I DO recommend you leave.
I don't even know where to start. It's like I have stage fright; my mind is in a jumble. Typing as I'd speak, as if I was doing a speech on the fly!
I enjoy doing those a lot. I've been told I was good at doing those.
Probably not though. Maybe I'm just saying that to pat myself on the back and feel good about myself.
I've been feeling a constantly feeling welling up inside of me. It's so sad, I've felt like crying and bursting in emotions for weeks now. Yet I keep myself bottled up. So tightly closed, I let not a sound come up.
Not an indication. Never a hint. Smiles and jokes; that truly is my life.
Am I a disguise?
I see it. Every. Day. It eats at me, horrors. Yet I continue on and on and on.
What is it I see?
Death. I see a flash. A barrel kicks. Smoke. Blood.
Metal smashing against metal. Bone giving in. So brutal, so terrible.
I think of my death just about everyday now. Several times a day now. Getting shot, getting into a car accident, just... So many different scenarios.
I see it as I'm driving down the street. Just driving down the road, so peacefully. But then it flashes in my mind; a car blindsiding me and killing me by running into my driver side door. Out of no where.
A dark room when I get shot in the head. BANG. BANG. BANG. Flashes of brilliant light illuminate the room.
I don't just see me though. I see other things. Rather it's an important role playing character to me, a friend, even family at times. I can't stop thinking of these things. I hate it so much, it's terrible.
Maybe I'm thinking of all that because I feel I'm failing in life. Maybe I know I'm failing. Like this world is just... Too much noise for me. I can't handle it. What if I'm just not meant for this world? As if I'm not made for it.
"Kiba, what do you do? What's your job?" "What do you want to do as you grow up?" "What do you do?"
People ask these things all the time. It's a standard question and an easy way to open up a good conversation. Where do I work? What kind of person am I?
My answer.
Military. Military. Military. The Marines.
I tell people each and every time that I'm GOING to do this. I'm GOING to sign up, be a Marine! Be successful, have a career in the military!
What if I'm lying to myself? What if I DON'T do it? Am I really going to?
Or am I lying. What if I fall on this just because... It's a respectable answer? Because it'll make me look good. Give me an image.
Am I just a failure in disguise?
A failure. Yes.
Faker. Failure. Liar. Selfish.
So selfish.
I can never.
NEVER
Stop thinking myself as selfish. Such a bastard. I'm so fucking selfish, dammit.
And I hate myself for it.
I'm so selfish as to ask people to read this fucking journal. This poorly written shit that I want them to sit through.
As if they'd want to.
As if they'd fucking care to.
FUCK
I'm so selfish that I'm BLAMING the people reading this now. As if it's their fault I'm doing this? As if it's THEM that's causing my problems.
Yet it's not.
I hate myself so. Why can't I do things right? Why can't I be more caring? Be more. I'm so lazy and it's causing me to fail. I want to be so much more.
I don't deserve more though. I don't deserve a thing.
Before I wrote this I imagined a fantasy. In fact, that was the original title of this journal; "A Fantasy".
I imagined something that I wanted. Though it's selfish to want such a thing as this as well. I'll say it anyhow though.
I wanted to talk to people. Have them listen to me. Just to hear me speak and talk out my problems, I feel I speak so much better than I write.
I want my voice to be heard. In front of a small crowd of people. I'd settle for a Skype call in a heartbeat.
So selfish my request
Silence... Just talking and having people listen. Hearing what they have to say after I pause or finish speaking.
Having maybe... ten people in the room. All of us, having a headset on, ideally with mics... Just talking.
I imagine it could be more than that. A connection of people.
I used to be a leader of a GSA group. I made such... awe inspiring speeches. Perhaps that, too, is selfish of me to claim. I probably didn't do as well as I thought.
When I spoke though. The whole room was silent. Their eyes fixed on me, waiting for me to speak. My speeches were always serious and cut deep. I would speak and it would connect the whole group.
I would make us a family.
For at least a few moments; this group would be a family. We'd cry together, as my speeches always seemed to drive emotion out of people.
-This has gone so off-topic. I should just stop.-
Yet there never truly was a topic. Just me. Me saying what was on my mind...
And here I feel this pathetic journal will end.
What started off with sadness-
turned into anger.-
Which ended with defeat.
An idea of a reality which will not come.
How could it? No one should have read this any how.
I, personally, would recommend anyone to leave though and don't bother reading this journal. It's going to be long and serious, maybe a bit of a rant. Along things I think up everyday, what's been bugging me as of late. I've finally been bugged enough to want to write about it, get it out there.
That being said
I hate writing this still. I hate it because I feel like... An ass for doing so. I'm reaching out; I need to understand and accept that. And by doing so I'm just being an attention seeking ass for doing it.
I'll say it once more though - If you want to read this, you certainly may and I'll enjoy you doing so. But I DO recommend you leave.
~~I don't even know where to start. It's like I have stage fright; my mind is in a jumble. Typing as I'd speak, as if I was doing a speech on the fly!
I enjoy doing those a lot. I've been told I was good at doing those.
Probably not though. Maybe I'm just saying that to pat myself on the back and feel good about myself.
I've been feeling a constantly feeling welling up inside of me. It's so sad, I've felt like crying and bursting in emotions for weeks now. Yet I keep myself bottled up. So tightly closed, I let not a sound come up.
Not an indication. Never a hint. Smiles and jokes; that truly is my life.
Am I a disguise?
I see it. Every. Day. It eats at me, horrors. Yet I continue on and on and on.
What is it I see?
Death. I see a flash. A barrel kicks. Smoke. Blood.
Metal smashing against metal. Bone giving in. So brutal, so terrible.
I think of my death just about everyday now. Several times a day now. Getting shot, getting into a car accident, just... So many different scenarios.
I see it as I'm driving down the street. Just driving down the road, so peacefully. But then it flashes in my mind; a car blindsiding me and killing me by running into my driver side door. Out of no where.
A dark room when I get shot in the head. BANG. BANG. BANG. Flashes of brilliant light illuminate the room.
I don't just see me though. I see other things. Rather it's an important role playing character to me, a friend, even family at times. I can't stop thinking of these things. I hate it so much, it's terrible.
Maybe I'm thinking of all that because I feel I'm failing in life. Maybe I know I'm failing. Like this world is just... Too much noise for me. I can't handle it. What if I'm just not meant for this world? As if I'm not made for it.
"Kiba, what do you do? What's your job?" "What do you want to do as you grow up?" "What do you do?"
People ask these things all the time. It's a standard question and an easy way to open up a good conversation. Where do I work? What kind of person am I?
My answer.
Military. Military. Military. The Marines.
I tell people each and every time that I'm GOING to do this. I'm GOING to sign up, be a Marine! Be successful, have a career in the military!
What if I'm lying to myself? What if I DON'T do it? Am I really going to?
Or am I lying. What if I fall on this just because... It's a respectable answer? Because it'll make me look good. Give me an image.
Am I just a failure in disguise?
A failure. Yes.
Faker. Failure. Liar. Selfish.
So selfish.
I can never.
NEVER
Stop thinking myself as selfish. Such a bastard. I'm so fucking selfish, dammit.
And I hate myself for it.
I'm so selfish as to ask people to read this fucking journal. This poorly written shit that I want them to sit through.
As if they'd want to.
As if they'd fucking care to.
FUCK
I'm so selfish that I'm BLAMING the people reading this now. As if it's their fault I'm doing this? As if it's THEM that's causing my problems.
Yet it's not.
I hate myself so. Why can't I do things right? Why can't I be more caring? Be more. I'm so lazy and it's causing me to fail. I want to be so much more.
I don't deserve more though. I don't deserve a thing.
Before I wrote this I imagined a fantasy. In fact, that was the original title of this journal; "A Fantasy".
I imagined something that I wanted. Though it's selfish to want such a thing as this as well. I'll say it anyhow though.
I wanted to talk to people. Have them listen to me. Just to hear me speak and talk out my problems, I feel I speak so much better than I write.
I want my voice to be heard. In front of a small crowd of people. I'd settle for a Skype call in a heartbeat.
So selfish my request
Silence... Just talking and having people listen. Hearing what they have to say after I pause or finish speaking.
Having maybe... ten people in the room. All of us, having a headset on, ideally with mics... Just talking.
I imagine it could be more than that. A connection of people.
I used to be a leader of a GSA group. I made such... awe inspiring speeches. Perhaps that, too, is selfish of me to claim. I probably didn't do as well as I thought.
When I spoke though. The whole room was silent. Their eyes fixed on me, waiting for me to speak. My speeches were always serious and cut deep. I would speak and it would connect the whole group.
I would make us a family.
For at least a few moments; this group would be a family. We'd cry together, as my speeches always seemed to drive emotion out of people.
-This has gone so off-topic. I should just stop.-
Yet there never truly was a topic. Just me. Me saying what was on my mind...
And here I feel this pathetic journal will end.
What started off with sadness-
turned into anger.-
Which ended with defeat.
An idea of a reality which will not come.
How could it? No one should have read this any how.
First of all, there is a difference between reaching out and attention-seeking, so you shouldnt feel bad for writing something like this. You are in need of people to listen to you and theres nothing wrong at all in wanting people to read about your personal feelings. Keeping them inside you is unhealthy and can make stuff a lot more stressful so you should ignore anyone who says that you are attention-seeking.
There's one thing in your paragraph that I can relate to massively and that is your imagination constantly being focused on death. I suffer from severe depression and anxiety that means I spend well over half my time seeing potential ways I could die, to the point where it feels like I'm simply waiting for death to arrive rather than getting out there and living my life to the fullest. Thankfully, I'm in nowhere near as bad a place as I was this time two years ago, in which I was having daily panic attacks and being completely dominated by my emotions. So I do insist that there is light in the darkness, even if its not fully illuminating. Although I am still in a dark place I can at least often bring myself to look at ways out of this and admit that my feelings are irrational. One thing I must insist is that you don't keep yourself bottled up - I tried that myself and soon became extremely scared of a full breakdown. Even if its just in private for a few minutes every night, force yourself to cry and you will feel slightly better afterwards.
I feel the same way you do in regards to the future. I'm a student now so I'm not in quite that situation but it's often like my mind is telling me that it's a fact I'll never amount to anything and I'll leave uni and spend the rest of my life as an unemployed failure. Obviously I have no way of knowing that but my mind and also your mind is a cruel beast often intent on torturing you with thoughts about life. But it's never too late to show your own mind who's boss. Follow your dream, try your best at it, and even if you don't end up doing it, it doesn't mean you are a failure, it just means your life went in a different direction than you first planned, but youll always have a chance to work on making it a positive direction.
Like I said before, don't feel bad for writing your feelings down, cause this is helping you avoid keeping yourself bottled up. Tons of people are out there who would care about you, not just me and other people on here or DA or other sites but people who live around you who care about you and would try and support you. And you can blame me all you want, I'm not bothered :D
Unfortunately I can't assist in your desire to speak to people since I get extremely nervous during voice chats and you wouldn't be able to understand my accent anyway but there are again other people who would be helpful and would listen to you and be supportive.
And I've obviously never heard any of your speeches but your writing is absolutely incredible and drives a hell of a lot of emotion out of me, so given that you criticise your writing ability that I'd give nothing but praise to, and self-praise your speech then that really tells me that you give amazing speeches and there are absolutely tons of people that would love listening to you. And some day you will find them.
That reality will come, maybe not in the near future but one day your mind will be in a better place.
And you probably dont want to in the slightest but you can ask me or tell me anything and I'll try my best to listen and be supportive, and I can guarantee that every one of your other friends both online and in real life will likely say the same thing Good luck with the future, and take care of yourself.
I'm actually glad you made this journal. Why? Well, you need something to use as an outlet. From my own personal experience (and part of why some of my IRL things have been falling apart), bottling it all up is not healthy, at all. As long as you find something safe to let out whatever negative emotions you have, it's truly something you need, so you're not selfish for it.
As for thinking about death, I think about it all the time. I always think something's going to kill me the next day. Maybe a heart attack, someone goes in my dorm and shoots me, I'm in someone's car and we get into an accident, maybe my Dad goes crazy and actually shoots me like he almost did that one day... so many ways a human life can end, it's practically how I live... to avoid the inevitable. Personally, because of that, I try to live my life as best as I can, so when death does happen, at least I had a good run. Then there's that one mental disorder I've been trying to ignore...
But all in all, you're not alone in the struggle, so if you need help, you have people being willing to support you as best as we can. And don't let the standards of society determine if you've succeeded or failed. Give it more time, keep working to achieve your goals, and you'll get there at some point, I'm sure of it! I got faith in you my brotha!
Take care Kiba, looking forward to chatting with you soon bro.
You know who I am... and you know what I've said before about this, since we're actually spoken to one another about these matters.
And the fact is: No one's gonna blame you for being scared of joining the military. Whether it's the Marines, the Army, or what have you. And I can certainly tell you I am also scared of death myself. I suspect anyone who is quite young and below 50 years in age, finds death a scary concept. We don't know for sure what lies beyond, if anything.
As many others here have, and probably will tell you: you are not alone. Never take that for granted. Never think we are just saying that. We mean it. We're here with you, whether physically or in-spirit. And we want to support a great friend like you.
I doubt talking to me alone would be enough to help you feel reassured so the fact that you reached out like this on here, is great. I'd give you a high-five, a bro-hug, or whatever you'd like for congratulations. I'd even try making you a cake (and that's no lie XP), though you might not want that, I'm not the best cook ever. XD
Be sure to keep up with what people are saying on here, because you reached out to us, and now we're gonna reach out to you.
Don't feel ashamed for what you've done here, because I'm proud of you for doing it.
I honestly do not know what to say that could add to the others that have responded to your journal. I guess all I will say is that if you just ever need someone to listen to you than I would be willing to do that. Just feel proud for reaching out as you have done.
I would try doing something, but I'm just useless when it comes to helping :/
I feel bad I didn't comment to anyone back then. I just wanted to... Push everything away. I had meant to get around to it, but now it's too late. I'm really surprised to see people/someone still read this!
Like you, I RP a lot. I absolutely love Rping ^^ And my favorite Rps usually revolve around fighting and combat. It can be a good vent.
As for how long I was keeping all the stuff in this journal suppressed... A really, really long time. I breathed not a word to it to anyone. Months on end I kept all of this pent up.