Mad World

Everyone’s always talking, asking me questions I don’t have answers to.

People tend to think they have solutions to our life problems, our creeping issues, and ways to drive out our demons.

Do they ever consider that we have asked ourselves the same questions and got buried under the weight of the answers or uncertainty? You think you know me, but have I really told you everything I’ve dealt with? Everything that made me who I am, that made me think the way I do? I believe only 2-3 of my friends truly understand what I regularly struggle with inside my head. The rest of my friends are happy with the act I have performed over the years.

The amount of hatred I have for myself is only growing exponentially. Every day, I find a new reason to hate myself, my decisions, my life, everything. I think the problem with feeling messed up is that you can’t talk to people about it. You can’t be a guy in your 30s and talk to anyone about your loneliness. How you’ve been feeling for more than a decade already. They find a way to joke about it or dismiss it. The problem is that even if you have friends or family, you don’t feel like you belong anywhere. The feeling of not being good enough is more than enough to bring a healthy mind down.

To be honest, it’s very rare for me to choose someone to be my personal therapist or vice versa. From the issues I have faced since the beginning of my time here, I have grown deep empathy for people who are broken. And when I see them suffering, I feel the need to just be there for them. I try to help them survive the latest wave of their own inner thoughts. I know how unforgiving our thoughts can be to us. They have no filter, no nothing. I know I am a lost cause, and I don’t know if someone will ever be able to find me. But I’m always on the lookout for people whom I can help in ways no one ever helped me.