TechyLikesStars
Member
- Sep 3, 2025
- 5
Everytime I seem to think I'm even a little close to feeling better about myself and my life, it's not enough that a few small annoyances knock me down, the world has to unleash every awful thing on me, as fucking quickly and brutal as possible, before I can even breathe. Holy shit. This happens every single time, it's almost like a fucking punishment I get for even daring to think my life is worth living. I sincerely think this world wants me dead. Every day, I have to face the worst in everyone around me. It's not pessimism, it isn't cynicism, it's just the harsh reality of things. I live in a miserable fucking province, and I'm an alien to this society I live in.
I've been having the worst week. I was just starting to think I felt fine, but no, everything that was making me happy had to go to shit, and on TOP of that you had to take even MORE away than from what I already initially had. This is what I get for thinking I deserve to fucking live. Ive felt so defeated and hopeless, but I took the little strength I had to atleast go out and buy my mother a gift for her birthday coming up. Our relationship is really complicated, but I was hoping this would be a chance for me to try and make amends with her or atleast get her approval. I had to take multiple buses and walk all kinds of distances just to get to the mall, and I was only getting more emotionally exhausted and impatient the longer it went on. Despite my immense misery, I don't know why I still bother trying to talk to people and be polite. I just can't fucking help myself, even if I never get any reciprocation. Every fucking time, I interact with the people around me like I figure anyone else would. "Please", "Thank you", "Have a good day", is it THAT fucking hard to even respond to me to just make me feel seen? To make me feel fucking alive? Nobody talks to me at college. Nobody talks to me at work. If someone talks to me at home, it's to yell at me. So why, why can't I get a single fucking person to just smile at me and tell me to have a good fucking day too. Why do you just stare at me bug-eyed like I'm some fucking monster. I'm so extremely insecure from my high school years, being excessively judged and mocked for simply being more timid than most. It's left me feeling so inedaquate, and it doesn't help that I have to live in a fucking miserable province where nobody acknowledges eachother.
When I finally got to the mall, I had brought an old gift card I had gotten a few years back to help me buy the gift. I hardly ever have money on me, since I hardly have any hours at work and the day I get my paycheck it's basically immediately blown away on groceries. I figured it was a good thing I kept the gift card, since it had finally come in handy. I picked out a few cosmetics for my mother, carefully picking them out so I wouldn't be over budget. I had finally picked out a few, and calculated that the total in my head should be safe, even with the taxes included. I go to the register, greet the cashier, lay out my items as she starts scanning them. I see the fucking screen, and I freeze. Total comes out to 53$. I immediately start stuttering like a fucking idiot, completely caught off guard that the total was more than was even on the gift card. 12$ worth of fucking taxes. I anxiously told the girl to please wait a few seconds, and for me to check if I could pay the difference with my card. I checked my bank account, and I had 2$. I couldn't pay the additional THREE fucking dollars. I could feel my face turning red, and I anxiously apologized and explained that I couldn't pay the difference. She fucking laughed at me. Didn't even try to hide it. She just starts fucking giggling. I could already feel my lips quivering, and I just quietly told her I'll remove one of the items so I can pay for the rest. I took the bag, softly wished her "Have a good day" almost by fucking impulse, and just left the store to pace around the mall anxiously. I had nowhere else to be other than home, and yet I just kept circling the fucking mall, feeling so embarrassed and upset. After a while, I finally left the mall, and just sat on the curb shaking and clutching my knees. I felt like such a piece of shit. The next bus was only going to be there in an hour, and I had nothing to do other than to just wallow in my own shame. I sat there, sniffling quietly as people just stared and walked by. Everytime I cry in public, it's always met with indifference. My death will be the same. I'm fully convinced I could jump off a fucking building, and people will simply walk over my splattered body on the ground. I'm so fucking lonely. It doesn't matter whether I live or die, I don't fucking EXIST.
I have always cared more than anyone else does. Always. I can't STRESS THIS ENOUGH. I have always fucking cared more than anyone else. I hate being "the emotional one". Am I not human? Am I not human for fucking feeling things? Is that wrong? Clearly it is, because nobody in my fucking life feels ANYTHING. Whether I'm fucking THRIVING in joy or WRITHING in misery, it is always met with the same fucking indifference from the people I love. It's the same reaction, because they always fucking expect me to just "get better". What about when I finally kill myself? Will it matter then? "Shit, I guess we were wrong." I'm so miserable, I have to take a fucking edible once a week to just make me feel something, and yet everytime I end up going too far and greening the fuck out, throwing up all over myself and just crying over how much I hate my life. I don't know why I look forward to this every week, thinking maybe this time it'll be different, even though deep down I know the night is just going to end with me weeping and puking my guts out. This routine involves me getting high while 2-3 of my friends online VC with me, and we usually play games or watch something, but after I greened out last week I just left that fucking group out of frustration from how one of my other friends has been treating me, and I don't even want to show my face there right now after what he said, since I know how active he is there. But what does it matter? It never really does. It's the same routine. I get hurt, I leave, and I come back. By now they know this. Everytime I just have to fucking suck it up and forgive the person who hurt me, because I know otherwise I won't have anything. How about when I leave, and then I end up finally killing myself? When I can finally get that fucking courage, when I can finally feel like I truly deserve to take my own life, I know none of it still wont fucking matter. The worst part, is by the time friday night comes and I get to get high again, I'll probably fucking crack and come crawling back to my friends, dismissing how my other friend's treatment makes me feel, and this same routine will probably eventually happen again. And again, and again, and again.
My happiest fucking moments were in places OTHER than the shitty province I live in. Once I was in NYC on a school trip for my high school, and we visited the 9/11 memorial. While we were getting our bags checked at security, one of the young guys working there recognized Oyasumi Punpun on the shirt I was wearing, and he complimented it. "Nobody else in that group knows it, but you're the coolest guy here." I chuckle thinking about it, it makes me feel a little happy, even if it was so long ago. Another time I was visiting Florida with my family this summer, and I was amazed at how social and kind people are in the US. Obviously I don't want to generalize things here, I know not everyone in Florida is a saint and I probably just got lucky with my interactions, but at the very least I was SEEN. Everywhere I went, people actually interacted with me. In stores, in restaurants, even on the fucking elevator. Everytime, without fail, someone would interact with me, and I felt seen and happy. I can't think of any happy moments I have in the actual fucking province I live in. It's nothing but dread and misery, it's no wonder when I returned from my vacation, I immediately felt like killing myself again.
I'm writing this while I have multiple projects to work on. I'm writing this while my parents argue about some useless shit in the other room. I'm writing this while my friends indifferently wait for my supposed return. I'm writing this while everyone else my age experiences things, and I just sit here writing about my fucking misery. I'm so fucking lonely, I can't even trust any reasons I have to "stay alive", because the world will take them away sooner or later. Should I even DARE to fucking smile a little, the universe will take it as a personal insult, and take the fattest shit on me to make sure I don't even come close to feeling an inch of joy again anytime soon. This post is long. All I ever do is talk and complain. It's no wonder why nobody truly cares about me anymore. My existence is tiring to both me and everyone around me. Fuck me. FML.
I've been having the worst week. I was just starting to think I felt fine, but no, everything that was making me happy had to go to shit, and on TOP of that you had to take even MORE away than from what I already initially had. This is what I get for thinking I deserve to fucking live. Ive felt so defeated and hopeless, but I took the little strength I had to atleast go out and buy my mother a gift for her birthday coming up. Our relationship is really complicated, but I was hoping this would be a chance for me to try and make amends with her or atleast get her approval. I had to take multiple buses and walk all kinds of distances just to get to the mall, and I was only getting more emotionally exhausted and impatient the longer it went on. Despite my immense misery, I don't know why I still bother trying to talk to people and be polite. I just can't fucking help myself, even if I never get any reciprocation. Every fucking time, I interact with the people around me like I figure anyone else would. "Please", "Thank you", "Have a good day", is it THAT fucking hard to even respond to me to just make me feel seen? To make me feel fucking alive? Nobody talks to me at college. Nobody talks to me at work. If someone talks to me at home, it's to yell at me. So why, why can't I get a single fucking person to just smile at me and tell me to have a good fucking day too. Why do you just stare at me bug-eyed like I'm some fucking monster. I'm so extremely insecure from my high school years, being excessively judged and mocked for simply being more timid than most. It's left me feeling so inedaquate, and it doesn't help that I have to live in a fucking miserable province where nobody acknowledges eachother.
When I finally got to the mall, I had brought an old gift card I had gotten a few years back to help me buy the gift. I hardly ever have money on me, since I hardly have any hours at work and the day I get my paycheck it's basically immediately blown away on groceries. I figured it was a good thing I kept the gift card, since it had finally come in handy. I picked out a few cosmetics for my mother, carefully picking them out so I wouldn't be over budget. I had finally picked out a few, and calculated that the total in my head should be safe, even with the taxes included. I go to the register, greet the cashier, lay out my items as she starts scanning them. I see the fucking screen, and I freeze. Total comes out to 53$. I immediately start stuttering like a fucking idiot, completely caught off guard that the total was more than was even on the gift card. 12$ worth of fucking taxes. I anxiously told the girl to please wait a few seconds, and for me to check if I could pay the difference with my card. I checked my bank account, and I had 2$. I couldn't pay the additional THREE fucking dollars. I could feel my face turning red, and I anxiously apologized and explained that I couldn't pay the difference. She fucking laughed at me. Didn't even try to hide it. She just starts fucking giggling. I could already feel my lips quivering, and I just quietly told her I'll remove one of the items so I can pay for the rest. I took the bag, softly wished her "Have a good day" almost by fucking impulse, and just left the store to pace around the mall anxiously. I had nowhere else to be other than home, and yet I just kept circling the fucking mall, feeling so embarrassed and upset. After a while, I finally left the mall, and just sat on the curb shaking and clutching my knees. I felt like such a piece of shit. The next bus was only going to be there in an hour, and I had nothing to do other than to just wallow in my own shame. I sat there, sniffling quietly as people just stared and walked by. Everytime I cry in public, it's always met with indifference. My death will be the same. I'm fully convinced I could jump off a fucking building, and people will simply walk over my splattered body on the ground. I'm so fucking lonely. It doesn't matter whether I live or die, I don't fucking EXIST.
I have always cared more than anyone else does. Always. I can't STRESS THIS ENOUGH. I have always fucking cared more than anyone else. I hate being "the emotional one". Am I not human? Am I not human for fucking feeling things? Is that wrong? Clearly it is, because nobody in my fucking life feels ANYTHING. Whether I'm fucking THRIVING in joy or WRITHING in misery, it is always met with the same fucking indifference from the people I love. It's the same reaction, because they always fucking expect me to just "get better". What about when I finally kill myself? Will it matter then? "Shit, I guess we were wrong." I'm so miserable, I have to take a fucking edible once a week to just make me feel something, and yet everytime I end up going too far and greening the fuck out, throwing up all over myself and just crying over how much I hate my life. I don't know why I look forward to this every week, thinking maybe this time it'll be different, even though deep down I know the night is just going to end with me weeping and puking my guts out. This routine involves me getting high while 2-3 of my friends online VC with me, and we usually play games or watch something, but after I greened out last week I just left that fucking group out of frustration from how one of my other friends has been treating me, and I don't even want to show my face there right now after what he said, since I know how active he is there. But what does it matter? It never really does. It's the same routine. I get hurt, I leave, and I come back. By now they know this. Everytime I just have to fucking suck it up and forgive the person who hurt me, because I know otherwise I won't have anything. How about when I leave, and then I end up finally killing myself? When I can finally get that fucking courage, when I can finally feel like I truly deserve to take my own life, I know none of it still wont fucking matter. The worst part, is by the time friday night comes and I get to get high again, I'll probably fucking crack and come crawling back to my friends, dismissing how my other friend's treatment makes me feel, and this same routine will probably eventually happen again. And again, and again, and again.
My happiest fucking moments were in places OTHER than the shitty province I live in. Once I was in NYC on a school trip for my high school, and we visited the 9/11 memorial. While we were getting our bags checked at security, one of the young guys working there recognized Oyasumi Punpun on the shirt I was wearing, and he complimented it. "Nobody else in that group knows it, but you're the coolest guy here." I chuckle thinking about it, it makes me feel a little happy, even if it was so long ago. Another time I was visiting Florida with my family this summer, and I was amazed at how social and kind people are in the US. Obviously I don't want to generalize things here, I know not everyone in Florida is a saint and I probably just got lucky with my interactions, but at the very least I was SEEN. Everywhere I went, people actually interacted with me. In stores, in restaurants, even on the fucking elevator. Everytime, without fail, someone would interact with me, and I felt seen and happy. I can't think of any happy moments I have in the actual fucking province I live in. It's nothing but dread and misery, it's no wonder when I returned from my vacation, I immediately felt like killing myself again.
I'm writing this while I have multiple projects to work on. I'm writing this while my parents argue about some useless shit in the other room. I'm writing this while my friends indifferently wait for my supposed return. I'm writing this while everyone else my age experiences things, and I just sit here writing about my fucking misery. I'm so fucking lonely, I can't even trust any reasons I have to "stay alive", because the world will take them away sooner or later. Should I even DARE to fucking smile a little, the universe will take it as a personal insult, and take the fattest shit on me to make sure I don't even come close to feeling an inch of joy again anytime soon. This post is long. All I ever do is talk and complain. It's no wonder why nobody truly cares about me anymore. My existence is tiring to both me and everyone around me. Fuck me. FML.
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