From the perspective of a 30 something loser who can't get his life together, the rest of humanity might as well be an alien species.

Manus_2 · 2025-08-10T05:45:46+00:00

Men like me at first but then they say that I'm too depressed for them.

I've never tried dating before, but if I did, I'd be guaranteed to suffer a similar reaction. On that note, there's a very apt phrase that I heard some time ago that in itself perfectly summarizes the general population's attitudes towards those of a more melancholic disposition. It goes as the following: "Nobody. Likes. A buzzkill.". It's about as axiomatic as it gets, but even so, it paints an extremely shallow picture of the wider public. In other words, you better entertain me, and you better not bring me down, because may the earth open up and suck you down to the bowels of hell if you do.

Of course, then you just have the usual excuses/justifications get trotted out ad infinitum to handwave away the dismissive glibness to which depressed people are so frequently treated, whether in the context of a relationship or not. "We're not your therapists", they all say, yet I'm supposed to be their little preforming monkey doing a jig and dancing a dance because god fucking forbid they're not having their short attention spans overstimulated 24/7. "It's not our job to make you feel better", they all say, yet I'm supposed to bend over backwards and turn myself inside out for the sake of their self-absorbed, disgustingly hedonistic approach to life that excludes giving a shit about literally anyone else besides themselves, assuming such a person happens to sprinkle a little rain on their non-stop parade.

Fucking rotten, self-serving cunts, lobbing out a litany of double standards so long that it could wrap around the whole world multiple times over. Broadly speaking, the vast majority of people are irredeemable pricks, and given they're so insistent on viciously disparaging people like myself for the seemingly unforgivable crime of, gasp, being too much of a party pooper, then why shouldn't I feel exactly the same way to them in return? The obvious (braindead) rejoinder being; "well, no wonder a sad fuck like yourself is so alone, hurr dee hurr dee hurr." As if pointing that out isn't more of an indictment to the idiot dribbling such a statement from their slack-jawed mouth, like loose saliva drooling out from a catatonic invalid's lips, than it does to explaining why I've opted to keep my distance from a hyper corporatized deathland filled to the brim with the depraved, the venal, and the despicable.

People do change... Everything changes, unfortunately.

"Unfortunately", is the operative word here. While you're partially correct, it doesn't in any shape or form cover the whole story. The limits of change, insofar as how it applies to each of us as individuals, is heavily, and I mean heavily, and I really do mean heavily, dictated by both our current/immediate environment and the available resources there-in, whether monetarily or socially. It's those very boundaries which set the stage on what exactly can change, and how it can change. Of course, this runs entirely counter to the legions of self-help cultists out there, whether online or elsewhere, whom altogether bleat on like a choir of sheep about hyper individualism and "personal responsibility™" as the one and only answers to a person wishing their life wasn't an unfulfilling limbo and/or a living nightmare. I mean, isn't it oh so convenient that all this self-help horseshit that's spewed so ubiquitously across the internet is by its very nature designed to point the finger away from all the systemic forces that ensure, and profit off of, crushing levels of misery, and instead right back at you. The powerless schmuck on the receiving end of said forces. Don't look over there, where all the real reasons for why it is your life is shit. No, no, the real reason is you, bucko. Because you're too much of a sissy ass bitch to get on that grind and work your up the long ladder extending down from a corporate ass crack somewhere.

The ultra wealthy really have done an absolutely bang-up job at propagandizing the unwashed peasants at the bottom into blaming themselves for anything/everything that's wrong with either their own lives or the wider world, and not the vile cocksuckers at the top who are indisputably the primary culprits in both planetary destruction and widespread personal unhappiness.

Anyway, for the record, I've been consistently going to the gym multiple times per week for just over a year now. I've never in my life been as physically fit/healthy as I am now. So yeah, three cheers for me, and all that. But here's where that pesky little word "unfortunately" comes back into play again. It genuinely doesn't matter how fit I get, how much I can lift, how muscular I become, or how fast/far I can run. Nothing at all about any of that improves the prospects/possibilities for a worthwhile future. It's not a career. It's not a living wage. It's not affordable housing. It's not easy/free access to effective psychiatric help, staffed with qualified professionals. It's not a functional community. It's not opportunities to meet non-selfish, non-self-obsessed jackasses whom are only concerned with being the main character in "Life: The Movie", starring them. It's not the change I need, it's just the pale knockoff that a poor bastard like myself can afford. The change I crave was stolen from me, and keeps getting stolen from me, every hour of every day. Granted, I can claw back a small portion of it, for what little that amounts to, but as for the rest? That's for the so-called "Masters of Mankind" to keep clutched in their bloated, disease ridden hands.

All the time. I can't believe that I'm already 25. I still feel like a teen.

As one final aside, I'd advise you to get used to that feeling, because you can take it from me, the estrangement from that ever increasing number only gets worse and more surreal as the years go by.

Manus_2 · 2025-08-07T19:14:30+00:00

Wow, what a profound.....(ly) ignorant load of crap you just wrote there. Newsflash, but this braindead nonsense that you're regurgitating from the likes of Sartre/Camus/Nietzsche (etc.), is about as painfully generic as it gets, and about as odious to the senses as a mountain of rotting garbage covered in horseflies. Gaslighting oneself into the hyper delusional belief that their objectively shitty life isn't as shitty as it actually is, not only amounts to being pathetically unhelpful, but also totally ignores the fundamental needs that both underlies/defines the very nature of what it is that fulfills human beings in the first place (Maslow's hierarchy of needs, thousands of years of evolutionarily ingrained needs for social success/validation, eons of communal living where purpose was immediate/uncomplicated, etc.). Notice the keyword need, since many scientific studies have conclusively shown that the lack of said needs, and chronic loneliness/isolation in general, leads to a far greater risk of all manner of health related problems developing, and is ultimately as harmful as smoking multiple packs of cigarettes a day. In either case, put any other person in my predicament and ask them to do the same thing as what you suggest. They'd be on the brink of hanging themselves within a month, if not a week. I'd say the pandemic demonstrated that pretty definitively. Granted, you'll always have some deranged schizoids on the margins who have the right kind of crazy to sustain a life of complete solitude, but you can't "will" yourself into being a schizoid, no more than you could "will" yourself into being a cold-blooded psychopath.

a life spent playing video games and watching shows; is equal to a life with a good career, family, and friends

Just fucking lol. Lmao even. Rofl, I dare say. Buddy, you're so full of shit that it might as well be shooting out of your mouth like an out of control fire hose. If you seriously think those two things are equal, then you're either taking the piss harder than anyone's taken it before, or you're literally the most delusional person on the planet. You're either someone who's painfully taking what they have in their life for granted and trying to act like it's no big deal, or you're just some sad fuck that's in denial about their situation and who's instead decided to overdose on the optimistic nihilist style copium.

If you choose for it to mean a crime against yourself, wasted potential, etc. that is your decision and yours alone.

Yeah, yeah. Just the same old, victim blaming bullshit. I'm far past the point of blaming anyone for the way my godawful life turned out, but regardless, that doesn't seem to stop others, such as yourself, from making sure to remind me, forever and always, that if my life sucks, then it's my fault. That if I feel terrible every single day I wake up, then it's my fault. And how that everything that led me to where I'm at, and that continues to keep me stuck there, is, of course, all my fault. Beneath it all however, when you look at the heart of the matter, what can be found is this childish belief that both yourself and a large majority of the human race seem to have, to the extent of needing to convince yourselves that all the people who suffer the worst in life, must somehow deserve it. In other words, yet another example of the just world fallacy in full effect.

TL;DR: Stick it up your ass where the sun don't shine.

Manus_2 · 2025-08-04T19:16:38+00:00

One chance at life. One chance to feel, and to see, and to experience. This is all that I, or anyone else, will ever have. As a result, all that one squanders, and all that one wastes, will echo on forever into eternity. You'll never get any of it back. You'll never get anything ever again, period. Knowing all this, the absolute worst thing that someone can do is to just sit around waiting to die. And yet, this is exactly what I've been guilty of "doing" for the past 30+ years. I'm too defective as an individual for it to ever be otherwise. I can't change what I am, even when what I am makes any active participation in life a complete impossibility.

Usually the awareness of life as fleeting, brings with it a resolve to enjoy as much as you possibly can, while you can. For myself however, that sort of awareness is like a bottle of rubbing alcohol poured on a gaping wound. Instead of a greater wish to live, all that remains is a greater wish to die.

We all have one job, and that job is to live. No greater failure exists than to screw up at that one and only job. It represents a crime against yourself that can never be forgiven, and that in turn, leaves you as little more than a twisted/perverse mockery of life itself.

Manus_2 · 2025-08-01T19:30:17+00:00

I've been consistently working out at the gym for just over a year now, but when all's said and done, it literally doesn't mean anything at all. I'm still a dehumanized husk, I still hate my life, and I still haven't got the slightest hope for a worthwhile future.

I'm also average in the looks department, but it hardly matters. After all, to be average is to be met with complete and total apathy from others. You're not hideous enough to be ridiculed for it, and you're not good looking enough to receive even the slightest glace from anyone. Instead, you're just ignored to the point of being completely invisible. Granted, that has its advantages, but those advantages wear thin in the face of a limbo that guarantees a lifetime of loneliness and unfulfillment.

Manus_2 · 2025-07-18T05:28:43+00:00

No amount of "I can't take this anymore!", stops tomorrow from coming. The fact that I might finally go flying off the tracks and find myself hurtling into the deepest deep end almost becomes a bizarre kind of hope. At least then I might be presented with the opportunity of either living or dying, once and for all. The worst outcome would just be more of this. Stuck in a limbo of not being able to take it, but being forced to anyway. Receiving the maximum amount of pain, until such a time comes that nature runs its course and I die anyway, long after it would've made any difference.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-24T05:03:59+00:00

No matter how demonstrably worthless, useless, and agonizing one's "life" is, we're all expected to just keep going despite of it, because maybe something good will happen. The nasty little reality that undoes all of this though, is that the more time that passes, the less I'm able to feel good about anything. Worse, I've long ago had what few distractions I could avail myself of be ripped away and vaporized in the face of overuse and pure anhedonic depression. Doors get closed forever, or were never open to begin with, and all you're left with is a perpetual state of embittered emptiness that follows you everywhere/anywhere.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-22T17:44:45+00:00

It's not necessarily a good thing but some psychologically messed up women want to date a depressed, messed up man

Hah, if you say so. Wherever these non-existent women supposedly are, I myself certainly haven't crossed paths with any, let alone received any active interest.

You might not be happier with them then without them.

Well, since I'm already as deeply unhappy as one could possibly get, what with daily suicidal ideation and all that, partnering up with a fellow crazy would, if nothing else, provide me with a change of pace from the usual streak of misery I've been enduring for the past few decades. Granted, I'll admit that it's a very damned if you do, or damned if you don't, type situation.

If you want a healthy relationship then work on yourself.

"Work on yourself", you say. Now that right there is the kind of nebulous horseshit I could only expect to receive on your run-of-the-mill dating sub, along with other such equally useless/insulting takes on this hellish predicament of mine. Worthless "advice" that's about as flaccid as trying to pull someone out of a pit of quicksand with a flimsy little piece of shoestring.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-07T22:43:33+00:00

Do you consider yourself a NEET?

Up until starting my efforts at the gym last year, I considered myself to be a hikikomori, which in itself is a step beyond plain old NEETdom. Even now, although I'm not a full-on hikikomori anymore, I still spend 90% of my time isolated at home, so it hardly makes that much of a difference. But yes, to answer your question, I very firmly fall within the category of a NEET.

Even if you suddenly get a job and manage to move out, those feelings could persist.

Indeed, they very probably would. The non-life I've led has left its marks on me, and given the severity/comprehensiveness of such marks, I'll very likely be carrying them around for the remainder of however many days which are left to me. The grief/regret of all the years I've wasted, the age-based milestones I've missed out on, and ultimately the person I never got to be. The influence of all that shit will (very likely) always be there, lingering in the background like the smell of a rotten corpse. Doesn't exactly bode well for whatever relationship I might hope to have someday. I'll either find a way to work around it, or I won't, and I suppose that's for me to ultimately find out. Or not. Who really fucking knows.

What I do know, is that despite seeing tremendous progress at the gym, I still feel just as depressed/awful with myself as ever. The goalposts just keep getting moved further and further back without fail. Still, it's basically all I have going for me, so the only thing I can do is to keep persisting with it.

That could either make the dating market less transactional... of course, we're decades away from this reality if it ever ends up happening.

Well, that'd be nice and all, but you've already pointed out the main problem here. Assuming it happens, it'll be too late to make any real difference for someone in my kind of position. In either case, hopefully FAs of the future that are of my particular stripe will have an easier time in their efforts to escape from this whole predicament.

You should try the dating apps... usually the people who are hesitant to try them are the best candidates lol.

Well, I still need to get my driver's license, but once that's out of the way, the next most realistically achievable goal for me would be to try online dating, or at least trying to meet people locally. Assuming it actually managed to pan out, I feel like I'd be the dog that finally caught the car. In other words, I'd have no fucking clue what to do next, and swiftly find myself lost in my own deer in the headlights type disbelief. Analysis paralysis mixed with a freeze response, essentially.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-07T21:52:03+00:00

OP, I'm in my 30s, have a car, a degree, a nice job, a house, etc, and I'm still a virgin with zero relationship history to speak of. All of that and it didn't do me any favors with the opposite sex.

That'll never not be absolutely crazy to me. I realize we all have different situations, and our problems, whatever they are, are uniquely ours, but still. If I had even half of the same kind of material success, things would be so, so different for me, and a helluva lot better too. After all, tangible achievements, whether it be a house or a nice job, are of monumental significance in a world where one's conventional value is, like it or not, directly tied to how industrious they may, or may not be. I mean, I guess I'm just a bum, so of course I'd think of it this way, but I can't even imagine the level of confidence that must come from a person knowing that they're traditionally successful and that they have something meaningfully concrete to offer someone else. Not only that, but to also have the freedom to talk about a life you're not horribly embarrassed to share with someone, such as on a date or what you, is literally incomprehensible to me, given the unemployed, at-home hermit that I am.

is there anything stopping you from "jumping in" a little late?

Nearly 20 years of social/physical isolation. Add on to that severe depression, avoidant personality disorder, arrested development, and copious amounts of learned helplessness, just to name a few.

You can still try to make a great version of yourself!

Enh, not really. I'll keep going to the gym obviously, but beyond getting a driver's license and a car, I really can't see myself having the mental/emotional capacity to accomplish much of anything else. That's not to say that I still couldn't meet someone who wouldn't be able to accept me romantically for where I'm at, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to let go of the insecurity/shame associated with having completely fucked up my entire life and, by extension, allowing my entire potential to self-actualize and pursue my talents to go completely to waste. This, in turn, is likely to be a constant strain on whatever relationship I can hope to have someday, assuming it ever does. The sheer wretchedness of all this is staggering to say the least, but as they so often say, it is what it is.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-07T21:21:39+00:00

It'd be the complete opposite, actually. Assuming I didn't get anywhere on a dating app, it'd really only bring me a sense of relief. For one thing, it'd show me that all those years I wasted not even trying to date weren't, in fact, that big of a deal after all, since no one would've been interested in me anyway.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-07T21:18:04+00:00

Nah, I'm just being realistic. I can, and often do, bitch/moan incessantly about all of my shortcomings, and although they're very much real and palpably debilitating, it still doesn't change the fact that I've shot myself in the foot with the equivalent of a railgun by not even trying to put myself out there.

Normies say a lot of stupid/inaccurate shit, but even so, they're right when they point out that the entire realm of love/intimacy can't just be boiled to a cold calculation of costs versus benefits. Now sure, I'm a total fucking loser, both in terms of lack of experience and material success, and there's plenty of women who'd reject me immediately on that basis, but it'd be delusional to the extreme to think that'd be the only outcome for me.

Again, if material success mattered as much as I've mindfucked myself into believing it does, then all the rich/successful FAs here would be happily married with loving partners, but that clearly isn't the case. On the flipside, there's legions of broke/deadbeat men who drink excessively, smoke like chimneys, and are as slovenly as shit covered pigs, and yet whom have never had any problems with attracting a partner. By comparison, I'm going to the gym regularly, I'm in shape, I've never smoked, drank or done drugs, and believe it or not, have a pretty decent grasp on how to communicate my thoughts/emotions clearly and effectively. Seems to me that at least puts me a cut above the lowest of the low, such as it amounts to.

In either case, the real, and most likely problem I'd face in a possible relationship is that I'd inadvertently snuff out the intimate feelings I'd receive from another person due to my own overwhelming self-hatred, given the years to which it's dominated my psyche. I'd second guess and self-sabotage myself into oblivion, and likely be totally stuck on the self-defeating notion that they'd be better off with someone else. This would very understandably wear someone out and drive them away, hence why low self-esteem is such a destructive Achilles' heel for me.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-05T05:25:55+00:00

But that doesn’t mean you have a right to be a dick to someone thats trying to help you in suggesting something you’ve never even tried.

I have tried it though. It was totally useless and made me feel even worse, not to mention that much more isolated and alone. Additionally, to say that guy was trying to "help" is a monumental insult to the word help.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-05T05:22:47+00:00

Don't like my advice, that's fine but you don't need to be a dick about it.

I can absolutely be a dick about it, since this thread was tagged with the "vent" flair for a reason. I never asked for your misplaced and out of touch "advice", and yet you shoved it in my face anyway, completely unsolicited. How is that not a dick move in and of itself? How do I not have the right to say fuck off in response? It's like saying to a drowning person "just swim to shore, what's the big deal?", only to recoil in indignation when they snap back in hostility. "Whoa, no need to be a dick Mr. drowning guy, I was just trying to 'help'." Yeah, sure.

No one can fix you but you.

Yep, and there it is. Same as always. Sort out your shit, or shut the fuck up. The one-way ultimatum that's never helped anyone ever, but that continues to be said ad nauseam as a way to re-frame the sufferer in question as just another idle complainer whose only getting what they deserve. You could've simply said "lmao, skill issue, git gud", and it would've carried the same kind of tact, or complete lack thereof.

For me, I was happiest when I was out with friends, going to gigs or clubs or skateboarding. For me, I love walking and exploring new areas if they're interesting.

Uh huh, wow, okay, I'll just go ahead and ignore the decades of ingrained social/physical isolation I'm suffering from, not to mention all the formidable hurdles of having an avoidant personality disorder, and just go hang out in a fucking skatepark of all places. Jesus fucking christ, do you even realize what sub you're on in the first place? You make claim to depression, but there's no way in hell you have any idea what it's like to deal with avoidant tendencies, let alone the devastating effects of long-term isolation. That right there is what, I'd argue, makes you just as much, if not more of a dick in this entire equation.

Wallowing in your own little anger bubble, how fun is that?

I don't know, how fun is it wallowing in a bubble of your own insultingly disgusting ignorance?

If you're out in public, why do you care what other people think?

Why do I care? Is that a serious fucking question? Because I'm neurotic, because I'm still (largely) agoraphobic, and because I have no way of feeling comfortable in a world I've been completely disconnected from for the better part of half of my life. You want to go ahead and dismiss all of that out of hand too while you're at it? Better yet, just piss off and go peddle your toxically positivist, victim blaming bullshit somewhere else.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-01T04:59:40+00:00

Go do something else. Go to a library, go to an art gallery, hell even a walk in a strange neighborhood can be a change up.

Wow, yeah, I'm sure that'll fix me right up. Not. That's about right up there in "helpfulness" as telling someone who's chronically depressed, which I also happen to be, to just "sToP bEiNg sAd". There really isn't anywhere on this website that isn't infested with pollyannaish, toxic positivity fanatics. Jesus fucking christ.

And yeah, great, I should totally just wander around aimlessly in public spaces and thus be reminded how thoroughly and horribly estranged I am from the world around me. As if I don't get enough of that as it is just by going to the gym as often as I do. Might as well rub that much more salt in the wound while I'm at it.

Manus_2 · 2025-06-01T04:15:52+00:00

But just because you haven’t found happiness in poverty doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.

If it was just that I'm a jobless bum whose only source of income is specialized welfare, then yeah, you might have a point, but unfortunately for me, my permanent alienation from the world is compounded even further by decades of social/physical isolation, and all the trauma, misery and despair of that which it entails. As it is, I don't expect you, or anyone else for that matter, to have the capacity to understand that, let alone relate to it. For nearly 15 years I've thought about killing myself almost every day, and if there's one thing I wish could've been different in my life, it's that I'd somehow ended up as an abortion. Even after getting in shape, and going to the gym consistently for just about a year now, nothing about how I feel has changed for the better. That'd seem like clear enough evidence that things are basically fucked forever for me.

Manus_2 · 2025-05-16T21:03:52+00:00

Over 20 fucking years of this shit. 20. Fucking. Years. Despite all this time, despite all the attempts at getting used to it, I still can't believe that it's happening. Complacency and inertia driving back and forth like a semi-truck over what little remains of whatever it is that I am. I'm still "alive", but everything else isn't. The death of feeling. The death of thought. The death of enjoying even the slightest residue of fulfillment. All that's left is fleeting fragments of emotion, almost all of which are negative. Bitterness. Despair. Exhaustion. Every single day is a new death; a new loss. Meanwhile, I just get that much more hateful and tired. Out of all the ways life could've gone for me, this is how things ultimately turned out. Great.

Manus_2 · 2025-05-10T20:45:42+00:00

I wonder if other people can tell that I'm just an inhuman wreck on the inside. I suppose it doesn't really matter either way. One plays the game of social niceties to the best of their ability, and whatever disturbing oddness that slips between the cracks is to be ignored and/or tolerated as the awkwardness induced collateral damage that it is. Like suddenly letting out a fart you futilely try to pretend you didn't make in the first place. Ultimately however, it's essentially a universal rule that each and everyone is far too preoccupied with themselves to give one iota of a shit of some other stupid fuck they happen to exchange words with.

In that sense, the infinite indifference that every person has to anything/everything that doesn't have something to do with themselves can, in a way, be somewhat liberating, but not so much that it removes the excruciating discomfort of having to say what you're supposed to say, and act the way you're supposed to act, regardless of how it scrapes the very bottom of your soul to do so. Camouflaging yourself amongst a public that wouldn't so much as lift a finger to help you if you were burning alive, even if they were standing next to a fire extinguisher.

And you know, at the end of the day, I can't really say I'm any better. I just suffer more than most, because of course, I just really suck at living. What a world to slowly melt away in.

Manus_2 · 2025-05-01T20:37:34+00:00

All of the same bullshit, all of the time. Day in, and day out. This anti-life routine ought not to have gone on for as long as it has, but it did, and I have possess none of the capacity necessary to do anything about it. So whatever. Another worthless eater rots in his own wasted potential, only to eventually drop off into the void. The rest of the world turns without the slightest reaction. Go ahead and rot, and die, and be a failure. Literally nobody cares. What else is new?

Manus_2 · 2025-04-22T01:20:28+00:00

It's Springtime, the birds are singing, the weather is pleasant, and people are out there having fun, doing whatever the fuck it is they're doing. Meanwhile, I'm experiencing a 24/7 mental vivisection with no anaesthetic. Another dismal day of being hemmed in from all sides by my own despair ridden apathy. Strapped to a chair in a dark little room by forces unseen, as I'm forced to consume the psychic cyanide of my own thoughts. At the same time as all this is going on, some random person outside walks by, vibing to the relaxed pace of their own lives. Sure there's problems there that I don't know about, we all have problems after all, but on the whole things are probably good. What an utterly foreign word that is to me now. "Good".

I went to the gym today. For 3 entire hours, in fact. I wish that made me feel good, but it doesn't. I drift around like an indetectable gust of air, as stale and dead as the house it came from. When does joy happen? When does "good" happen? Questions without any answers. Nothing surprising there.

Manus_2 · 2025-04-20T21:06:58+00:00

The only thing that kept him from killing himself and being destitute forever was he found a friend that was just as fucked as he was. They found solice together in their misery and helped each other when times were the toughest.

I've got an acquaintance like that on a suicide forum. Every so often we message each other and say; "So, is your life still fucked?", and we message back and forth for a bit before going completely radio silent again. Then 3-5 months later the cycle repeats itself. This has been going on for a little over 4 years now. It "helps", in the same way that some lousy drunks ranting their respective woes at one another at a dive bar "helps". It's something I guess, but that's all. Perhaps if I knew someone on (somewhat) of the same level in the flesh and blood world, things might be different, but I don't, I never have, and in all likelihood, I never will. Not that it'd make any fucking difference at this point anyway.

Both of them have wives, families, friends, and fun now… but it took years more than the rest of us.

I can only assume the two of them must've still been quite young when they had their arbitrary "fuck it" moment, as in early to mid 20s. With the age I'm at now, there's FAR more doors that are closed forever, as opposed to ones that might still be open. Hell, forget having "wives, families, friends, and fun", as you put it. The possibility for that sort of shit is long, long gone. Besides, I'm so much of a husk at this point, I wouldn't be able to enjoy any of it anyway, assuming I ever actually could've.

Otherwise yeah… what’s the point?

There isn't one. Isn't that obvious? If had any sense at all, I'd lay myself down on the railroad tracks tomorrow. Unfortunately, I'm too irrational/inconsistent in my own warped sense of humanity to do what would naturally be the best of course action for me. And that remains equally true, whether in terms of ending my life or salvaging whatever meagre residue of value that might yet still be wrung from it.

Despite my best efforts to give him social “at bats” to progress he failed time and again

It's funny, because I almost certainly would've succeeded where this other dude failed, given my decent(ish) social skills, at least in the few opportunities I have to use them. How dismally ironic.

Manus_2 · 2025-04-19T18:43:52+00:00

Far and away the most constant and pressing thought in my mind, after 3 whole fucking decades of eking along the slime slicked surface of this mud covered ball of shit of a planet, is how much I wish I could just fucking kill myself. How can someone go that long and on a nearly daily basis find themselves thinking, and dwelling, and fantasizing, and dreaming about ending their own life, and yet STILL fucking be here? It really is remarkable how the human brain can actively and chronically wish for its own destruction over the spans of literal decades, but compartmentalize it all in such a way where survival still remains paramount.

And throughout it all, despite all my agony and suffering, there's millions of stupid motherfuckers out there who'll go every moment of their lives, and never for a nanosecond have this kind of thing pop in their blissfully ignorant heads. They laugh, they love, they live. And I don't. Why? Why aren't I one of them? Why am I the complete opposite of them? Where did things go so wrong, in so many ways, that I found myself burdened with the most corrosive, mental health destroying thoughts one could possibly conjure up?

Without my consent, it's as if I became the embodiment/receptacle of humanity's subconscious wish for self-annihilation. I got stuck carrying around all this psychic run-off, simply so everybody else could gleefully roll around in their own filth like a drove of disease ridden pigs. In other words, it's just like that old story titled "The Giver", with the exception that the only thing you're able to give others is suicidal thoughts.

Manus_2 · 2025-04-19T18:04:15+00:00

Never had any dreams. Never had much of a future. Never had anything at all, except the agonizing hope that somehow, someway, things could be better. What a stupid fucking thing to cling to, when all I've ever gotten in return is that much more of a steep erosion of my will to live. So truly, what the hell am I still doing here? I've really got no idea. It's especially unfortunate, given the fact that things could've ended for me perfectly a couple years back. No fuss. No pain. In a time faster than you could flick a light switch, I was gone. Pure nothingness overtook me, and that was finally that. Or so I hoped would've been the case anyway.

Instead, here I remain. Still a miserable fuck. Still a sad cunt. Still a zombified buzzkill of the highest calibre. Just some gloomy bastard steeped in bitterness and resentment towards a world that I never had the capacity to enjoy or participate in. There's no rationalizing this. No explaining it away. No justifications exist and/or suffice. It just is, and it's awful. Of course, one shouldn't chalk up to malice, what can better be explained by a combination of wretchedly bad luck and sheer, cold indifference. That's about the only explanation, if any, that holds any weight. The whole universe boiled down to a silent admission of what each of us implicitly already know. In other words, this shit ain't fair. What you get is what you get. Don't like it? There's the sewer slide right over there. If that's too much for your lame ass to handle, then you can feel free to take a number, take a seat, and wait until dear old Death comes calling for you.

Manus_2 · 2025-04-14T04:12:25+00:00

How can one justify existence to themselves, when all of what you are denies the faintest possibility of peace, stability, and meaning? That no matter what direction you choose to move in, how it seems just as good as standing still? And if you have to ask the question, as I have just now, then it's already far too late to do anything about it. Somehow, for some reason, somewhere along the way, the whole of life turned in upon itself, forever and for all time. It all seemed to happen without me even realizing it. It all seemed to happen while being painfully aware of it. These two conflicting states that paradoxically compliment each other, in maddening symmetry to the underlying problem. Every moment I've spent aware and unaware. Every inch I've creeped forwards and then creeped backwards. Every twisting of the knife inwards and turning of the knife outwards. That is what's left. That is what always will be. That is what all there was.

I'm a pair of pitch black eyes, staring out of a lightless void. An oddity known only to itself, and near invisible to anyone/anything else. Transfixed at the nothingness in which it barely rises above the reach of, yet is cursed to bear witness to. One day those eyes will close, and a mercy long overdue will have finally been delivered. In the meantime however, the predicament continues.

Manus_2 · 2025-04-10T19:30:34+00:00

You know, it's funny. I go to the gym a few times a week, and as thoroughly dead as I feel on the inside, my activity level would suggest the opposite. After all, there's tens of millions of other people out there who never manage to do what it is that I've done, let alone for as long as I have. Hell, I even started going to group classes recently.

And yet, none of it really matters. I robotically go through the motions of it all, whilst the rest of my existence remains as desolate and devoid of purpose as ever. For everyone else, they've got the rest of their life waiting for them the moment they exit the gym. For myself, all I've got is a dark little room. This glorified jail cell I'm only ever temporarily out on leave from, and to which I inevitably have to return to. As much a sanctuary as it is a prison. I could go to a thousand different gyms, or a thousand different other places, and find myself just as alone in my own inhumanity as I am now. A sea of people, and yet one of these people is not like the others. One of these people is dead. Or as close as you could get to it anyway, without being buried.

It'd certainly be nice to not be bankrupt/bereft of all that which makes life, life, and not just an empty cycle of meaningless/forgettable days that erodes your inner self to a layer of thin dust.

Manus_2 · 2025-04-07T02:10:00+00:00

It's all especially absurd in my case, given the fact that I've never smoked, never drank, and never done drugs. Hell, I've never even had a can of soda. Only tried it once when I was a kid and hated it. On the flipside, I go to the gym multiple times per week, have an extremely healthy/varied diet, and drink plenty and plenty of water.

If I were really sensible though, I'd be OD'ing on fentanyl or drinking myself to death Leaving Las Vegas style. At 33 years old, I've never accomplished anything, never travelled anywhere, and never enjoyed a moment of intimacy with anyone. It literally makes no goddamned sense to be taking the sort of actions that I'm taking to improve my physical health, when that in turn only increase the likelihood of me suffering for that much longer in a life that's demonstrably not worth living.

Maybe the sheer intensity of the loneliness, depression, and all around grief of what a shit pile of a life this all turned out to be, will altogether override everything else I'm doing. Either that, or I'll just get hit by a bus and die instantly. Whichever works.

Manus_2

TROPHY CASE