Hating Who You Are

I'm drinking and just want to air some dirty brain laundry.

The man I am is weak.

I am a poor excuse in measuring myself against anyone of real mental strength or fortitude. Woe is me, I am a sad example for an anything. Let us continue to throw a pity party and hope someone gives a shit. I push people away from my depression and myself in this attempt to save them from me. I want to save people the hassle of having me, Brett Hamre, in their life in any fashion. I spend hours agonizing over how I've wasted thousands of people's time and brought a negative impact on their life. All I want to do is leave a positive impact, yet here I sit---bellowing against the void, agonizing over every mistake or shortcoming.

I push people away even though, ironically, I want them to persist and stay. I want them to show me some love or sympathy. I don't want your sympathy! (Yes, part of me does.) Despite my attempts to fall on my own melodramatic sword... I am lonely. I want people to care. I think this is the human condition, or maybe just my purely selfish disposition.

Every day I think, with increasing fervour, that I should really just cash in my chips and settle my debts. Again, we confer to a cryptic allusion to suicide or death. A final answer to a temporary problem... for most. Not for me, for me this "temporary" problem has been persistent for nearly a decade of my life. It's the core of who I am, and what I consist of. My past and future reek of depression, self-pity, self-loathing, self-hate.

Actions I attempt to take out of the goodness of my heart are viewed in wildly different light than I even could fathom to comprehend. I don't do anything maliciously or with an agenda, ever. Other people constantly think I do. I'm always out to better myself or win someone over with a gift or gesture.

What the fuck do other people matter anyway? Right? It's it what we've all grown up learning that it doesn't matter what others think as long as you follow your heart. My heart, which I now increasingly becomes more and more numb to any emotion, is always in question. I always think my intentions are pure and true, and always considered myself altruistic, sometimes almost to a fault. Despite these thoughts, I've always recognized and agonized over when I did too little for someone or stood idly by while something could have been changed.

I understand why people drink. I understand why people medicate. I am in so much agonizing mental anguish every single day. This only lifts when I am with a few other genuine people in my life. This is unfair to them. I feel as though I am using them to escape from the hell I've built in my head. I've become reliant on other people to have a purpose to carry on living (at least existing).

I've failed the last college class I took because I couldn't force myself to write anything. Every word (including these) is tired and poorly written. They are all hollow and taunting in their reflection of the author's infinite lack of composition and guile. I sit again, forcing myself to write out the trail of thoughts currently circling in my head. They make no sense. There is no end to them. There is no believable conclusion or outright answer to anything.

Everyday I look into the mirror and stare at myself. Stare at what I can't believe is the body I am imprisoned in. I look at my faults, the weakness, the ugliness. Even though I am prompted to change, is there any changing for me? Is masking myself in muscle and tone any disguise for the pathetic monster that lives inside that shell? No.

So, I become more well-read and take care of my physical body. Let's assume that in six months time I am in the best shape of my life. Let's also assume that I've somehow become an interesting person that knows something about the world, anything for that matter. I'm still a depressive 25-year old that's failed more times then I've succeeded and feel like that's the way the future will always play out.

Wow. This all sounds like I'm just completely bitching and whining. I am.

Tangentially to whole depression debacle, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with a girl that I have no business being in love with. I should be allowed to love. I bring only heartbreak and pain to those who I caress. A curse which I will not impose on even the most resilient of persons.

Increasing is the emphasis on ceasing to exist. I'm attempting to save people from me. I have no right to have friends. I am incapable of being entirely selfless and caring for another person, despite me believing my intentions are full of honor or valor. I am a scared child in the skin of an older man. I don't deserve your time and should be okay without it.

Digressing to whatever point I'm rambling at... I look around my room, the confines of what I thought I inhabited, and am disgusted. I spent this much money on this much bullshit? I spent a large chunk of my life pursuing things that don't matter. Material things that mean nothing in the end. I have the grand notion of giving it all away, but then who am I? If not the sum of the things I've collected, what point did all of the past years of work serve?

The answers to all these questions I can hazard to guess, or even may know. This doesn't change the fact that they are still running through my mind constantly. They impede self-growth and rob me of any sanity I think I'm still clinging to.

There doesn't exist a soul, past, present, future, that should have to cope with the feeling of worthlessness that I drink deeply from daily. Even now. Even now I know only a half-dozen people have even struggling through these words... I can only think to apologize for wasting your time. There isn't a point to any of this. There isn't an enlightening thought or lesson to be learned here. I can't see one anyway.

You've indulged me long enough.