The truth is: I am lonely. The truth is that I have too much time to contemplate. The truth is that I can only self-motivate for so long. When I fail, depression is ready to kick in to a lesser or larger degree. The truth is, analyzing and researching my condition and its possible causes has brought only a few new insights, but not to the effect where I have an all new, all efficient angle to alter it. The truth is, only taking action can change things and along with it change perception, feelings, outcomes and thus state of mind and heart. And the devastating truth is that I simply lack the means and the budget to do so as my situation impoverished me very quickly. I can’t socialize any longer to an extent, where my life becomes less solitary confinement with my small cell a.k.a. appartment, equipped with bathroom, kitchen, heating, internet, TV, where the latter two have become my primary sources of communicating with the outside world.
The truth is: I have gotten singled out. I’m no longer part of the game and the system seems designed in a way that says: “We don’t want you back here. You’ve had your shot and you blew it. Go away, stay away, and if possible at all: Die silently and do it fast.” The truth is that most of my anxiety is from realizing this last part, this reality. The truth is: I am scared shitless.
I can compartmentalize. I can calm myself down, tell myself that I still have some options and freedoms left. I can deceive myself in this way, when I don’t have any real options left that can make a crucial difference as in: A road back to self-sustained living. I’ve been employing all options I’ve had or found. I’ve knocked on every possible door. I haven’t taken no for an answer, when “No! Not you!” was the only answer I ever got. I have fought, I have battled, I have not given in. And I keep fighting and battling with an overpowering opponent, who’s controlling all the cogs in the wheel. I’ve deliberated anything from camouflage as in: flying under the radar to openly resisting the legally allowed pathways. In whichever way I look at my situation, the answer is the same: Defeat! “You’re defeated, son!” I have taken my talents, my life force, my willpower and applied them to the challenges at hand. I’ve done so like anyone else for my entire adult life. I have even managed to conceal a debilitating condition from the public eye and function as best as I could nonetheless. And I even won a few battles, inspite of it all. But ultimately – or so it seems – I’ve lost out. The constantly dripping leakage from that hole in my soul seems to have drained all personal reservoirs of resilience. Exactly July 2007 was the time, when something ran out on me. Was it willpower, was it the energy to uphold a put-on act, was it quite simply youth that had elapsed? Whatever it was, after that I was unable to continue to function. Tentatively speaking, I think it was the latent frustration of fighting so hard without getting anywhere, of rolling the proverbial Sisyphean rock uphill, only for it to slip and roll back down only inches away from the mountain top. And in part, it was probably and quite simply the collapsing strength of going against seeing myself rejected and getting singled out time and time again.
I have now become a ghost for all practical purposes. The phone never rings. The influx of messages is wilting. The feedback on postings is vanishing. All channels of communications are drying out, drip by drip by drip. At the end of this process is a mind slowly getting choked to death, with an ever decreasing number of moments in which I wonder, what the fuck went wrong and when… I can’t seem to find any other clue than this: It is me who is wrong. I don’t belong here.
P.S. One truth I forgot to mention: I’m mad. I’m raving mad. At everyone, including “god”. And myself, of course.