Today, I am depressed.

I am not writing from a place of hope or salvation. I am writing from a place of deep despair, of fear of abandonment and failure, of loneliness and heartbreak, of the realization that I will never be good enough for anyone. Not now, not in the past, not ever in the future. Something about me isn’t right. Something in me isn’t enough. No matter how good or kind those around me are, and no matter how kind and generous I attempt to be towards them, I will never be enough. I will never be smart enough, capable enough, attractive enough, balanced enough, motivated enough, or worthy enough to be right for anyone.

I am an abject failure in my own eyes. I can’t seem to stop failing the ones I love. I can’t seem to stop being a burden and a source of anxiety. I am extremely ashamed of my inability to be self-contained and self-reliant. I feel sorry towards all the people whose lives I’ve touched and troubled. I don’t blame any of them for walking away from me. I am not worth the time and effort I require. I am even more sorry towards those still in my life. I am always troubling and burdening all of them. I am always in need of some help, some validation, some reassurance. I am always demanding and hurtful and toxic. I hate myself.

For every moment of joy I have brought anyone, I have brought dozens of instances of pain and angst. For every act of kindness, dozens of instances of callousness exist. For every expression of affection, there are words of criticism, bouts of sullenness, and repetitive arguments. For every time I got things right, I failed a thousand times. I worked hard to get everything I have but I can’t seem to keep any of it for very long.

I am the friend most people can enjoy being around for short periods of time. Eventually, my presence becomes too heavy and overbearing or I’m just plain boring and judgmental. I am the partner that is reliable but causes so much volatility and anxiety in the relationship that eventually it isn’t worth it. I am just barely girlfriend material but through several experiences I’ve realized I will never be good enough to be more. I wish I knew how to be a better partner, a better friend, a better sister, a better daughter. I wish I was the person that could make the lives of my closest tribe better and easier. Instead, I just cause them all problems. It’s so utterly pathetic that I’m constantly surprised I have anyone to care about me at all.

I hate myself. I hate being such a failure. I hate being such a loser. I hate being lonely and afraid. I hate being alone and unworthy. I hate that I exist. Today, I have no hopeful note to end on. I just wish I was never  born.

2 thoughts on “Depressed

  1. I recognize every word of this (well, except for the girly parts), and I know exactly what you mean. I certainly feel this way all of the time.

    The only problem with my problem is that nagging thought that maybe it’s not really true. It seems clear and evident and undeniable, but some small part of me keeps saying I’m wrong.

    I don’t have any answers for you (or me), and if I could take some of this burden off of your shoulders, I would do it instantly, but I can’t. I muddle along. I hope you can do at least that much.

    1. I also have a little voice telling me I’m wrong and trying to give me proof otherwise. I usually take life by the horns and face my demons with no qualms. Today, I just want the pain to end. I want the emptiness to go away.

      Thank you for taking the time to comment and for your sweet sentiments. I really appreciate it. You are not alone and neither am I. For that, I am truly grateful. I hope you find your way out of this darkness and into your best version of your life. Good luck.

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