Where are you supposed to go when the idea of being home makes you sick but you don't have money to go anywhere or a desire to even be social. It's too hot to be outside and everywhere I'd rather be is a luxury I can't afford.

I shouldn't even go anywhere because I need to conserve gas. Especially since I'm probably living out of here soon.
Who fucking cares.
Nobody is listening. Nobody is ever listening. It doesn't matter what I say Nobody ever listens

There's something horrible in wanting to die but knowing you can't even afford to die. Like I was looking forward to dying this march but my cosign is still in effect. I'm still at risk of making my family homeless if I die. I want to die. But I'm too poor to die

I just feel like I'm digging and digging trying to be or make anything but I instead just want to do nothing. But I have to because my dad spent his life savings for me to get this degree. My brother couldn't go to college. I'm not good for anything besides this but if I can't keep going then what was the point of all this crushing debt? What was the point of overworking myself into physical therapy? What's the point if I don't even want it anymore. What's the point if I don't care anymore?

But it's fine. If all goes well I'll be dead in march

So, on January 5th my wallet was stolen from the breakroom at work right from my purse. Now, here's the thing I understand to a very fair extent a part of this happening is my not having the door locked because I am like so paycheck to paycheck that my lunch for over three months has been a tube of probably expired lip balm, the complimentary soy sauce or mustard/mayo packets, and discount bakery bread loafs for a $1 stretched over the course of weeks. So like... a lock is weirdly expensive in this scenario.

But anyway, I reported several times that 'hey my wallet has been stolen' and basically got dismissed or told 'oh yeah we'll email loss prevention'. Here's the thing it's over a week before I even get told that loss prevention is actually looking into this. I kinda just chalked that up to my understanding that corporations are slow and that hey this is me. I lose my shit all the time. But then it became 2 weeks and during that time loss prevention came specifically on the day I had off. I had to pester my store manager again just to get them to talk at all and then on my next days off that week they once more came again and had the video evidence of the person who took my wallet. My coworkers had asked for the contact information so that they could give it to me but were told no. And then they proceeded to not come again when I was there just last Wednsday. I confronted my store manager about this and was told they had talked to me. That they had told me the situation and had come on a day I was here. Which... no. More importantly none of my coworkers who know the loss prevention dude had even seen him at the store outside that singular Wednesday. So someone in that chain of conversation has lied which angered me deeply and not just because I had been lied to. I called HR and was basically told it was my fault and they would do nothing because according to the evidence it was a customer. That because it was a customer nothing could be done. In fact, it was a really good thing it was a customer because otherwise we'd have to fire someone and we don't want that sorta scandal. Which love that. Great. Good. Excellent.

Glad to know my work is saying that if someone breaks into the breakroom and steals our shit it's not their fault. That they'll sit on their hands and ass hoping the problem goes away. The fact no one talked to me throughout this process and that the store hasn't made any declaration that 'hey we have customers stealing from employees keep an eye out'. All of it makes me pissed.

All of my identification has been stolen. All of it.

My vaccine card, my ID/Driver's license, and because I had been bouncing between jobs relatively frequently and I just left it in there accidently my social security. The thing is in particular I can't replace my Driver's License. Because I don't have a photo of my license anywhere. The only one in existence is of an under 21 learner's permit from 2016 and the numbers on that card aren't valid for a variety of reasons. I have to go in person to the DMV which i can't really do because covid. It's months long waits for an appointment and I have to drive to work.

There was also $212 dollars in rent money because my parents only take that in cash $60 of which was a commission I did for someone that since I no longer have and didn't spend basically means I worked for free. And a runestone that my art teacher gave me the day I finally broke with him about how I felt completely trapped inside my verbally/emotionally abusive household that he made when he was a teenager wanting to run from his home. I'd been keeping it on me because well, when I felt defeated and broken if I gripped it I knew I'd be okay and it's irreplaceable. It's gone now.

And all my work has to say for this is 'oopsie woopsie. So sorry. That must suck so hard.' And fuck off. You basically told me that you would be more than willing to do fuck all to my face over the phone. Your HR department told me I don't have a recourse and why would I? I'm the one who deserves the punishment. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Because my parents assumed I lost it myself they mocked and berated me and shamed me over this for weeks. Calling me an idiot and telling me if I hated living there so much I should just move out. Great. With what money? I barely avoided having to pay over $300 the day my wallet was stolen because while searching for it I locked myself out of my car and didn't have any ID so roadside assistance wouldn't help me. I barely was able to get them to accept my old college ID. Barely. I have been humilated and insulted constantly because of this lost wallet and this is the cherry on top the shit sunday that is my fucking life.

I spent like half a year trying to write my own trash gay novel that was purposely tropey and bad and fun and like.... I couldn’t even write a fucking chapter because for whatever reason I just can’t write anything original. I just.... it’s awful. It’s all fucking a mess and I can’t make anything work and I can’t even say I worked too hard and exhausted myself because I spent most the year not even working on it. I tried to not tell people I was working on it so I’d have that lack of expectations to help me but in the end i couldn’t make anything. I can’t draw anything I actually want or would like to draw because I am so terrified of the shame and when I put in effort into my art it is all just fucking ignored. I’m so tired. I’m so tired but I can’t afford to rest and take a break because my time is just running out in a way people don’t get. That when I tell them they tell me I’m being silly. That I have my whole life ahead of me and just... I don’t make something of myself now I know I will die. I will be dead in like 3 years and I have to make something of myself. I have to. i have to make my art and my legacy or whatever it is now or I’m just going to sink into the mud and die.

but i keep failing and no one is ever listening. nobody actually gives a shit. i want to die. and i have wanted to die a long time. But i can’t die yet because it’s not time but I know when. I know I will die in airport at the age of 27 when my foot gets caught in the treads of an escalator and fall backwards and tumble with luggage and snap my neck and bang my head on the floor. I dream of this death and I have for years. When people talk about death I see this scene vividly. I know it. I know it is coming. I wait for it.

And that’s why I can’t stop. Because I know I’m running out of time. I’m not making it to 30 as far as I am concerned. I die at 27 in an airport. On an escalator. Because my heal slips into the treads and i stumble backwards twisting my leg painfully. My suitcase is black and bulk and it slams into me pushing me down and while i’m not far up it’s enough that i fall and slide for enough time to be dragged over the steps. My neck repeatedly bruised and battered. I know I choke and my head screams and pounds. And I know the lady behind me with red hair is screaming. I die at 27. So I can’t stop.

I can’t rest

My wallet when missing on monday last week and there's a strong chance it could have been stolen from work and my supervisors just seem to be sleeping on it. i haven't gotten any updates other than 'we're totally looking into and thanks for the reminder....' My rent for the month was inside at the time so that's like all my ID, debit card, money, Vaccine Card, car insurance policy, and basically every fucking thing I could need gone. My new debit card hasn't come in so I am essentially penniless and also the money in my wallet is litterally 1/5 my monthly income. After realizing I lost my wallet I frantically searched my car and such and while doing so locked my keys and my phone in the car and almost wasn't able to get it unlocked because roadside assistance and such couldn't help me if I didn't know the policy info that was on my phone or in my wallet and even then was like 'oh you don't have an ID so we can't. It took fucking finding an old high school ID card from over 8 years ago before they agreed to come because since I was broke I couldn't afford to pay to call someone over not through roadside. But in my wallet was a runestone that my old art teacher gave me that was from the first ever set he made from when he was a teenager living a shit life in Kansas from an old axe on his farm. It was the runestone for victory because he said he wanted me to succeed and survive. I'd been carrying that with me as a good luck charm and it means so much to me because among all the people in my life he's the closest thing I have to a person I think actually believes I am worth anything outside of entertainment or potential cash down the line.
My parents fucking mocked me for losing it in the first place. Pulled the whole well if you weren't so stupid and shit you wouldn't have lost it. Along with well maybe if your wallet wasn't so ugly it be worth noticing. If you hate living in this house just move out already and then mocking me for being broke in the first place. Saying that if $200 is a lot of money then it's my fault. That it's tough shit. Just.... what does this world want from me? I've already made plans to die so why can't it at least leave me alone. I don't need to be mocked for not being smart enough for stem fields or be belittled for not being pretty and girly enough. I don't need people pushing me down constantly. I just want to be left in peace until it can all finally be over. I just.... want it to stop already

i was going to go out and enjoy friends.... but my anxiety took over and now I get to spend another day trapped inside staring at a computer screen wondering where my life went wrong. Just... I feel like i've spent my entire life staring at a computer screen and every time I feel i can run away and be better I just end up hiding. I mean dear god, I was too afraid to be in public because I have cringe. Such deep self loathing and cringe. I hate myself. I hate everything I am. Everything I stand for. I hate what a weak and pathetic thing I am. It's new years eve. It's new years... and I don't even want to see the new year. What is it going to offer me besides a loss of health insurance? What is it going to offer besides more anxiety over my finacial state? I can't die yet. But once march is over I can commit suicide. I can die. The cosign period will be up and the debt falls solely on me.

My new year comes in march. So.... once march comes I don't have to bother anymore. And for that I'm relieved. All I want is to die so I can retire from this life and be done with it. Maybe the next one can actually have a happy life for a change. Because I haven't had a good life in a while it seems.

soooooooooooooooo

my stepdad brought covid home with him and now my mom has it and also everyone is essentially hiding away in their own little corners of the house unable to leave because me and my brother at the very least aren't sick with it yet. But also we can't go anywhere and are trapped inside with no one to talk to. Nothing to do but be on the computer essentially... and like... I can't even get christmas gifts because they're exposed and at risk. I also cannot afford to miss work because of covid and not to mention I'm losing my health insurance come new years because my stepdad says that covering me under his plan is to expensive and I still don't make enough to cover my own health insurance and while my job provides it if i take it I'll no longer have enough to cover my student loan which if I don't pay means the bank comes after my parents because it's a cosgin and they could take the house or some shit... and just....

All I want is to be okay.... and just not be alone. But, of course I'm alone. Mom probably is already so drunk she doesn't know what time it is and has been that way since noon. My stepdad doesn't actually want me to talk about anything with him. He actively tells me to shut up because my interests aren't worth anything. My brother would rather be gaming than talking with me. My friends have their own lives. My bio dad is busy having christmas with the family he made elsewhere and is having his own fun. My friends...like they actually give a shit.

They have their own lives and stuff. Their own problems. I haven't spoken to a single person that wasn't my parents or the one person who is left in this town worth caring about in months. And like... I can't actually be honest and real. I can't say 'my life is shit and I've made plans to die in march once the cosign clause comes up because I can't take pretending I want to be alive anymore'. I just.... I'm not happy getting all my joy from things. But the only thing that does it. Things. I can't keep living to see fucking likes and shit because maybe this small thing will be what finally propels me to getting a real job in a degree that has ruined my life. Maybe hurting myself by trying to constantly being productive and fucking up my hands will finally be worth it.
But it's not. I hate myself. I hate myself and I want to die. I hate myself and I'm tired. I have been tired for so long. But no one is listening. Or helping. I have spent an entire lifetime trapped in a room hoping someone, anyone, will hear me and notice what is wrong with me. I have tried to leave this room. To get out but can't. i can't and just.... I'd rather it all end then spend another decade trapped here...

I keep trying to make something original. I keep trying to make write and create but nothing comes out. Nothing works. Nothing is right. I just hate it all so much. I want to just die.

My own parents have decided to cut me off their health insurance plan and are claiming it's the expense. My brother isn't getting kicked off. My brother is financially stable by miles compared to me. Why isn't he getting kicked? Why is it me? And I know why! My stepdad wants a maid but also can't make my mom angry but kicking my brother who has a lot health problems so has decided that hey the kick who literally can't afford anything or pay their bills without parental handouts got a job they hate making sandwiches at a deli in Randall's. That place has health insurance! He'll be fine.

Just.... am i a fucking joke to this world? DOES THE WORLD WANT ME TO BE FUCKING ALIVE? JUST..... I'm not able to leave an abusive household because I can't afford it. I'm not able to treat my carpal tunnel and get medications and therapy because I can't afford it. I can't get therapy for my depression because I can't afford it. I literally can't afford to live a better live than this hellhole and it's all because I went to college instead of just settling for a mediocre and shitty life working dead end jobs till death like I'm stuck in now but worse.

I want to die. I want to die and the only reason I can't is the cosign because then it falls on my parents and I can't do that to them. But if I died I'd finally be free and I wouldn't have to put up with this trying to understand love and joy hellscape that is the world. I woudn't ever have to think about a dollar or just.... it wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't hurt.

I don't remember what the world was like when it didn't hurt because I didn't get to have any of that. I've been broken since I was fucking eight and I don't know what the fucking hell is supposed to be worth it on this godforsaken rock.

I want to die. I want to die. make it stop. make it stop. i can't make it stop

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lately i just feel disgusting. like i'm stuck in an endless cycle of the same old shit where I accomplish nothing, am nothing, and like everyone is going to cheer and congratulate me for being as big a failure as I feel I am inside. I can't do anything and I can't seem to make myself do anything. I just want to curl in a ball and vomit constantly. I feel like I'm going to wake up and be 30 stuck in a shitty retail job that doesn't cover my bills living in my parents house with an abusive alcoholic mother who accuses me of incest or any number of gross and horrible things and says she's sell me if I worse worth anything while drunk while laughing at me if I tell her this in the morning. I want to die but if I die my parents get stuck with my loan so I have to live even though I only feel miserable. Everyone keeps being all 'well just find something to love again' or asking me what brings me joy and the answer is what it's been for my whole life.
I don't know.
I don't know what makes me happy. I have never understood what makes me happy or what you're supposed to do for fun. I don't even know if I have fun playing video games or it's just distracting. I don't like writing but I'm good at it or some shit so people praise me. I have to make art because what else am I supposed to do in my free time besides sit and stare at a wall. I can't read anything because reading makes me nervous. I can't see people and hang out. Nobody wants to see me. I can't afford to go anywhere fun. I can't afford to just leave my house and drive around. I can't do anything and I don't even know what I'd do.
I have nothing and it's driving me crazy and making me want just jump in a whole or let my car go into oncoming traffic but I can't because I am just morally aligned enough to give a shit about my student debt and what it do to the people around me.
I WANT TO DIE. I WANT TO DIE. I WANT TO DIE AND EVERYONE AROUND ME IS ACTING LIKE I HAVE REASONS TO LIVE AND I HAVEN'T FIGURED OUT ANYTHING ON THIS EARTH WORTH LIVING FOR IN OVER 20 YEARS. I HAVE TO JUST KEEP MAKING INCONVIENCES THAT MAKE SUICIDE AN OPTION I CAN'T TAKE BECAUSE OTHERWISE I WOULD HAVE FINISHED HANGING MYSELF WHEN I WAS 12 AFTER I FAILED THE FIRST FUCKING TIME

I feel like this is obvious given how many journals I write that are like fml it all sucks but I have depression. But also.... i don't have any friends. I am lonely and isolated in a house where my mom is a drunkard who abuses me and cannot be talked to because she's drunk and my stepdad is a narcissist who abuses me and only tells me to shut up because i don't have anything he thinks is worth hearing. All of my friends except one live out of state or a minimum of 4-5 hours away and don't answer messages. I haven't talked to a person that wasn't my parents in almost 3 weeks. I also have agoraphobia and social anxiety so going outside to meet people ends up being hard. I have no one to talk to at work. No one at home. No one online. I can't be on social media because it turns into depression and doom scrolling. The only time I get any real attention is when I post writings or art and people comment or like it. It's pathetic but that's about all the positive reinforcement i get. About all the emotional support I get is someone saying they like my colors.
But hey, what can ya do lol? After all, my time off is limited and i have to make art while I can otherwise there's nothing to keep me going. Nothing to make me feel better. I can't watch tv anymore it makes me anxious. I can't read anymore it makes me anxious. I can't really do anything anymore it makes me anxious and all anyone says is to get therapy. A thing I cannot afford.
A thing I'll never be able to afford it seems.
All I need is for the year of paying my loan to be over and then it won't affect my parents and then I can finally die. Then I won't fuck them over if I finally kill myself.
At this point their the only ones who I think will actually care if I do it. After all, everyone else who's my friend is so busy and doesn't notice me. I'm very good at being unseen. After all no one is going to read this anyway

So I finally had a breakdown at work because I kept making all these little mistakes at my job or just in general my boss would yell at me because I wasn't moving fast enough or working hard enough or doing whatever it was she actually needed me to do but didn't tell me what that was. I just broke down and started crying because between getting a flat tire and my boss constantly threatening to make me part time if I wasn't skilled enough and this fear I wasn't going to be able to pay my loan expenses (a bill that if I cannot pay defaults on my mom because it was a cosign and so if it can't be paid we could lose the house) and not having a day off in over a week I couldn't take it anymore. She decided for the sake of my mental health I will in fact be part time now and she will be cutting my hours to nothing and that she's sorry she even hired me.
And just... I finally thought I was going to no longer be in the red. I finally thought for once I would break at least even on my monthly expenses. I thought finally something good had happened to me. I thought for once in my life for at least a while I was going to be okay. It's never okay and it's not fair. It's not fair that every time something good happens there's some backhanded trick to it all. That every time it looks like I finally have a solution it all goes up in flames and I'm reminded that worms stay on the ground beaten under the earth. Just... I don't know what I'm going to do because every time it seems I can do something I can't and all people can do is tell me the same bs about how it's okay you're young and full of potential. But I'm not. I'm not some bright happy ball of joy. I'm a miserable sack of shit that doesn't know how to function anymore because every time I think it's safe and good the world beats me back down and laughs. Nothing has changed from being in elementary and waiting for my friends to punch me in the face or stomach because that's the only way any one can make sure my bad luck and reputation doesn't rub off on them. Nothing has changed from being told you're so smart and capable but knowing that they all say I'm dumb and gullible behind my back because your brother overheard them.
Just now I'm 24 and supposed to be working a 'better job' than I am now. The only reason I can't die is because the loan falls on my parents. The only reason I have to move and succeed is because I have to be the one who 'makes it'. I have to be okay but it's never okay and at this point I don't know what to do. And nobody around me is able to help.

ya know... art really was a mistake. Art school was a mistake. College was a mistake. And now I’m too old to catch up with everyone else in an industry so competitive with such a lack of skill. And it's like, why did i bother? Why didn't i just let my parents pick my college and say 'you have an engineering degree now congratulations.' And meanwhile everyone around me is like 'you're being silly. You are supppper talented. You'll get a job.' and it's like..... 'you've never actually seen my work. I specifically never let you see my shitty work.' I specifically never let you even fathom what my art looks like because it’s not looks like. I don’t let people see anything i make and know it’s me because then they know....

and I just am not good enough. And I can’t handle this anymore. I can’t handle pretending I have any interest in drawing rabbits or fucking pointillism. I can’t handle having so little in me I want make if ever. I just want to be able to live my life and not feel guilty for not working. But I have to. Because I’m in debt and I need to be able to afford to live outside my parents home. And I won’t have this option in a year or two.

But it’s fine. Because by next march if I die then my debt falls on just me.

And outside of tales games I don’t care much for living.

i majored in animation but if i'm honest i don't think I could give you anything worth looking at and I think I would have been better off skipping college entirely because dreams are a lie and everyone who calls me 'talented' has yet to ever see me make anything. I had to be at a funeral this week and the only thing I could do was listen as everyone asked what I did for a living and just all I could do was lie and say 'oh I couldn't get a job in my field because of covid and my current job is just an in-between'. But like.... I know better.
When I was in my senior year for my film I took the producer role because I knew nobody wanted it and that it was something people said 'i was really good at' but if i'm honest i took the position because I knew I'd just be in the way. For my 3D production class I had to change groups last minute because of complications and because of that I ended up getting to do absolutely nothing. The one scene I got to animate my group reanimated and redid while I wasn't looking and I found out about it during presentation. I can't 2D animate that well either. I'm not good at anything but sitting at a computer screen pointing at an excel spreadsheet if my senior film has anything to say. Any time I tried to do something else I was shoved back into my little hole and told I was great at being a producer. I was a great producer!!!
But deep down I know that was code for deadweight. Nobody needed me to tell them deadlines. My directors were more than capable. The only thing I did was the meaningless grunt work that took no skill. Even the art I did for the artbook was forgotten and discarded even as they said they liked it. Ultimately, I was and continue to be worthless as an animator and an artist. Even as people who like me and say they're my friends look at my stuff I know they don't actually like it. Don't think it's actually good. And everyone says 'just keep at it!' 'keep practicing!' but if you really have no talent what's the point. What is the point if you're just bad at it? And that good old 'oh it takes time!! don't worry about it'
I don't have time. I don't have time for anything anymore. I barely have time to draw let alone animate. I don't even know what I'm supposed to make or do anymore. i'm just tired and want to stop. I just want to die.
I just want to not have to deal with this anymore. Any of this. And nobody is listening. So why keep bothering.

a little vent since i have thoughts that i can’t express anywhere because nobody will listen or rather everyone seems to just tell me i’m being silly or overemotional. I can’t write anymore.

I can’t write. I am a person who doesn’t love writing but I don’t hate it. Writing is writing and I have to do it. I have to write. And I can’t. Not the way I want to. I can’t write original stories. I can’t write what I want to anymore. I can write fanfic so quickly and effortlessly but when it comes to myself it’s like trying to draw water from an empty well. it’s nothing. Or worse it’s sludge and toxic. It’s not usable. It’s nonsense. I feel broken. I spent so much to get a career in a field telling stories and now it’s like every time I go to write things it’s not working. It’s not. I have nothing inside me anymore as i write a million words in fanfic effortlessly.

I want to write. I need to write. I have to create or what was the point of getting so burried in debt that i found myself in this whole from which I cannot escape. I just... I want to stop being consumed by this feeling of inability. I want to create but every time it’s like “what characters? What story? Can you make anything that isn’t fanfiction? Can you actually write without that crutch?”

“Can you actually make anything your own?”

And it’s this mocking and incessant voice laughing and taunting in the distance telling me look you can write you just have nothing inside you. You have no stories in you that are your own. You’re just a mouth swallowing and spitting up what you’ve already heard a hundred times before and you’re always just going to be this pathetic mouthpiece for things you didn’t even make. That any success in praise is praise for an author that already gave them a bias towards those characters in that fic you are reading.

You’re just playing with dolls that somebody else made in a sandbox someone else designed and like always you’re playing alone because nobody wants to be there to hear it. And then I try to explain and get told I’m silly. That it’s art block. That I’m just in need of inspiration.

That I just need out of my depression. Out of my lifelong unceasing depression. That I just need to live.

And nobody seems to listen. They all say art takes time. They all say art is a progress a progression...

But I don’t have that luxury. Time isn’t going to make it easier to pay my bills, Time doesn’t make my depression better. Time isn’t going to save me or help. TIme hasn’t healed me or my woods. With time I have festered and rotted. Time has dug out everything that made me feel okay and replaced it with anxiety and fear.

I am not okay.

I cannot write. It doesn’t matter how good playing in the sand looks. It’s doesn’t matter what people say about what they read on ao3 it’s not real writing. Not the real I want. I want to create but even when I have the means it’s just nothing. Even when there’s every reason it’s nothing.

I want it back. I want my art back. I want the only thing that made me a person worth knowing back. I want the thing that made me a person back. I just want a reason and art is my only reason and if I can’t make art then why did i choose this path at all? Why am I pretending that I can succeed? Why am I pretending I have a reason to live?

I don’t know what fun is. I don’t know how to be a happy person. I don’t know how to be anything anymore and everyone just tells me:

‘you’ll get over it.’

‘you’re imagining it’

‘you’re fics are so good tho’

‘i love your art! your art is so great’

‘you’re plenty fun’

and just.... i’m so tired and nobody understands.

I’m so tired and I just want to go home and I don’t even know where home is anymore. I'm lost just like I always end up being and I just wanna go home

In 2016 I told myself I would go to college for animation at SCAD. If I'm honest I think I chose this because I didn't think I could actually become anything that wasn't some art cog in a machine. Almost 5 years later and hsving graduated a year I have finally realized a cold truth. I don't know how to tell a story anymore. Not one that isn't tied up in being fanfic but the names have changed. I pitch myself as a concept artist but can't make characters or stories. It's all just themes at best.
I am in a debt so deep it keeps me chained in a abusive household and I can't do the thing I went to school for. I can't make anything I want anymore. I can't find a way to make it work and I have to make it work otherwise what was the point. My dad used his retirement fund so I could finish and I can't do something so basic. Even when I put in hours and hours of work I know deep down it's lifeless. It's empty and dull. I hate it. I hate it so much.
I wish I had never gone to college

I have decided to cut off all communication with people. Because I understand now that humans make me miserable. Being social makes me miserable. Pretending I deserve happiness or even want it makes me miserable. So I should just cut it all out. Just cut out the communication and leave nothing behind.
I'm just a failure anyway. I just don't see the point in anything. And nobody likes me. Nobody hangs out with me cause they like me. Its all transactional. Just worms looking for things from other worms. Well jokes on the because I have nothing left inside me. Nothing

lately I've been trying to do a lot for myself to help better manage my depression and all the shit I've been dealing with. I'm still trying to move out of my parents abusive household but... i've currently got nowhere stable I can head to. But hey, on the bright side I've been making a lot of progress in my art and just kinda working on not being swallowed by my depression and it's actually working. I cut out basically all the discords and social media shit I was doing except for like a few. It's just been... good. like i got a pressure lifted off me. Still haven't seen a person irl in over a year really but hey...
pandemics...................

every day it gets harder to use my left hand and every day it's another one not in my industry working a shit job and knowing I don't have enough money to pay my loan payments and given my dad is kicking me off his insurance soon I won't be able to afford having a car either since already half my monthly payment goes towards rent and my loan payments already almost 2k. I can't find a better paying job than working this shitty $10 retail with my skillset and also people ask why at 23 you only have 2 jobs. People ask why bother with you. And why have part time employee when you could have a full time that's twice as desperate.

I have nothing and I keep getting told I have everything. I have nothing and I can't even make art anymore because there's no point. I have always done art and writing because there's nothing inside me. There's just nothing. I have no other things I can do and if I can't make the most of this overpriced degree I spent my dad's life savings getting than why did I bother? My own parents don't even believe my depression is giving me the anxiety it has.

Why didn't I just finish jumping from the stair well instead of just sleeping there staring down at the concrete? Why do I keep pretending that there's anything left when I'm so tied in this constant screaming to make that I can't enjoy anything. I can't do anything.

I can't feel my hands or move my arm to it's full extent and I don't feel anything in me anymore.

it's just a pit and rot and I don't even want to bother with so called dreams because what's the point. What's the point when the only thing I am is tired and my arm doesn't even work most the time to let me do the only thing that made the hole in me invisible.

Why am i still pretending I have anything left I want to do

the problem with living in a household where everything you do is constantly put in the lens of is this good for me money wise? Will this get traction? Will I get commissions. Is this as good as the last piece? Is this a piece I can put in a portfolio? Is this quality. Is this what I need to be doing?
It all bogs it all down till I can't do anything anymore. It's constant anxiety attack just staring at the page because bills are coming up and I'm still working a shitty job as a cashier at a burger joint in texas as mask regulations get lifted. My parents looking at a silly video I wanted to make on peppers and trying to make me monetize and be profitable rather than let me have fun. It's the feeling like if I did what I actually want to do it be a waste of time so better to just not. And it sucks. It's draining.

It makes me miserable but my entire world view has been forced to be against my own will on nothing but the ability to make money and use my degree and at this point it's like "why did I even bother trying to lift myself out of poverty and shit like this with a degree that has me paying 2k a month an amount I don't even make? Why didn't I just go straight into work out of high school and not bother because then I could afford to leave an abusive household? Why didn't I just give up and let my parents choose my career path against my will for me like they originally planned and made myself miserable as an engineer?"
Like I can't do anything anymore. I have to force myself to draw things I don't care about to make sure I'm not hidden in algorithms or don't lose followers on other platforms. I have to make myself miserable trying desperately to apply for jobs I hate and then get yelled at when I don't get them because I should have a job that pays more than $10. I have to live knowing half my monthly paycheck is just in my rent payment and I don't have enough come April to afford the cost that will be making student loan payments.

just... in the end what am i supposed to even do? I can't even watch tv without anxiety attacks because it feels like a time waste. I can't listen to music or read. And I hate it.

a week or two ago my parents made a whole angry rant and told me I had 30 days to get out or they'd throw me on the street along with all of my belongings. The next day they went from trying to get rid of me to crushing me under more and more control in a way that was immediately obvious as money based in taking half of my monthly paycheck for rent. I also came out and that has resulted in my mom pretending I never said this and constantly asserting my feministic and womanly quality. Essentially my parents have decided they absolutely cannot and will not let me go and I still can't afford to move out. I still can't afford to just disappear and never move out and it's terrifying because my mom is an alcoholic who will gaslight me for telling her all the awful shit she's done and says. While my stepdad is classist and tells me my own inability to get a higher paying job is all on me. That it's my fault I'm poor and yelled at me for cutting my own hair and told me it was behaving like I was lower class and to not act like myself because it made me seem inelegant. Told me it was a waste I was friends with people not making REAL money... and I hate it here. I want out of here so much and I have nothing but a shit ton of student debt.

people talk about cringe being dead but like i live in constant fear and anxiety of my ideas and work falling into it and therefore I do nothing I want to do and refuse to actually do art of my stories that are just shamelessly indulgent because admitting that’s what I want is cringe because it is considered something society would other and such for either not being woke enough or for simply indulging in stupid tropes that we associate with cringe.

People say cringe culture content and such is dead but is it actually that or have we just successfully shamed ourselves into fitting into a comfortable mold where we fall into a acceptable and therefore palatable story and imagery people can indulge without feeling guilt because people have made us feel that way?. Because I do think that is the state of the world we live in.

That we have worked and successfully shamed each other into small bubbles and when something comes out that can challenge and break that we say NO. CANCEL. PROBLEMAtiC. Or any number of word that enforces and reinstates cringe culture that cycles into what honestly reminds me of how I process trauma. Cringe culture has destroyed my ability to enjoy things because it means suddenly unless I have literally no fandom reference or anything of how the world perceives it I cannot feel guilt for enjoying it even if I know it’s a absolutely pointless element.

I struggle to just draw my own characters and stories because I worry of being cringe and because I faced a lot of people telling me elements they thought were cringe that I loved. To say cringe culture is dead and mean it is to say that you personally have no emotional baggage that keeps you from creating. That you feel no shame for indulging and being yourself.

That you can watch even something as wholesome as an episode of sesame street or the muppets without getting nervous because something about how society and such has treated your interest and the way you act on them has created a flight or fight response so deep that it is a internalized cringe.

So no... I don’t think cringe culture is dead and I don’t think it can die because that would require the entire human race to have no shame and that’s never going away for a lot of reason.

The only solution is to somehow recover from your cringe and to get past but to do that you have to be emotionally comfortable with yourself and I...

Have not been since the 3rd grade when someone mocked me for believing in fairies on the first day and at this point I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with myself. I think the most I’ll ever be is degrees of comfortable...