It’s March now.

This was supposed to be a year of my micro-blog.

This was supposed to be a year of taking care of myself.

This was supposed to be a better year.

I say I’m going to be better a lot. By any objective metric, it’s a better year. I make more money than I did last year. I got a promotion 4 months after starting with a company. I’ve lost weight. I’ve published more code and more projects than I have in a while. But I’m not better. My relationship with the people around me has all but deteriorated. I don’t have friends, or people I can rely on. My depression is worse, and I’ve been diagnosed with a couple more mental disorders. I’ve all but stopped taking my medications. I’ve all but stopped taking care of my health. I’ve all but stopped doing anything that I enjoy.

I’m so tired.

I’m tired of caring. I’m tired of spending all of my mental energy on things and them not going anywhere. The things in my life just sap me now in ways they didn’t before. I’m tired of putting hope in the future, of believing that I can make things work. I’m tired of trying to plan a better life for myself.

I’m tired of being an adult. I really just want to play Borderlands 2, and grind xp until I can shoot things faster and harder. I want to get so lost in modded Minecraft. I want for Conway’s game of life to be more difficult to code. I want to optimize until my fingers bleed and my eyes are bloodshot.

Maybe that’s what I do to life. I try to optimize, and auto-pay, and min-max my way through to squeeze the last ounce of joy from it. I try to fill the void i’ve created with people who make me feel good, but I never let them see how much I hurt.

I don’t want to hurt myself, but I almost wish that I did. That was scary enough to motivate me to care about life. This is just dull. It’s just paperwork. It’s shuffling things around on a computer to turn my time into money to turn my money into food and housing and electricity to enable me to shuffle things around on a computer. It’s accruing debt to try to fill the void, but the debt just makes the void deeper.

I wish I could stop caring. It would all be so much easier if i could stop caring. If I didn’t feel guilty, or responsible, or disgusted with myself.

I’m fine everyone. I’m content with my life. I guess. I’ve tried to make it better. I’ve tried to do more, I’ve tried to do less. I’ve tried to make more money. I’ve tried to have hobbies. I’ve tried to care about people.

Maybe this is destiny. To run on the treadmill of my life and mind, and masochistically enjoy when I get so tired that it throws me off.

It’s March now.

This was supposed to be a year of taking care of myself.

This was supposed to be a better year.

But no one will even read this. So I guess things will be okay.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
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Languages: English, Spanish.
800-273-8255