i am very sad

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i am very sad
miserable, still
my dad just came into my room and asked what was wrong. i guess i was probably sullen or something earlier. anyway, i said i didn’t know. he’s rarely any help when i talk to him about how im feeling.
when i talk to him about how much i hate my appearance, he gets really annoyed with me and says im making myself miserable and i need to stop focusing on that stuff. i agree with that, but i can’t very well just stop myself from thinking about it and comparing myself and hating myself. maybe if i locked myself in a room without mirrors or technology and got food and drink through a non-reflective meal slot. but thats not really ideal.
and when i talk to him about how much i hate myself as a person, i guess he says the things people should say, i don’t know. he says im a good person and that good people make mistakes sometimes and then they work to be better. cool, i guess. i just don’t believe him. he can say im a good person all he wants. he’s my dad, and he’s a good dad, of course he’s gonna think that. but it’s not like there’s much room to be a bad person at home with a mom who controls your every move, a dad you get along with, and no siblings. within reason, i mean. like if i were a murderer that would be plenty of room to be a bad person but im talking more casual bad person activities. idk. i just think he doesn’t see enough of me to know how awful i am. the people ive directly wronged see it, though. im sure they hate me. and they should. i don’t know, it just doesn’t help me to talk to my dad about my person.
and the worst is when i talk to him about being sad. he gets frustrated. he says all i need to do is meditate, exercise, and get a consistent sleep schedule. i bet those things would help a lot. but i just can’t get myself to do them. every day i tell myself i will, but it just doesn’t happen. ive been doing better with sleep lately though, because of school. but even more lately ive just been sleeping in and skipping some classes. or waking up on time and then lying in bed without ever going to turn on my class. anyway, he gets frustrated whenever im sad because im not doing those things so im not allowed to complain. he also says that i am lucky, and that it could be a lot worse. which also doesn’t help at all. obviously i know i have it good and that it could be worse. i know that. and im still sad anyway. im just a piece of shit, alright? i get it. im a weak piece of shit, you don’t have to remind me. i dunno. it just doesn’t help. and i don’t blame him for not being helpful. i mean sometimes i get sad when he gets frustrated with me for being sad but, as far as him not having anything helpful to say... i dunno. sometimes i try to think of what a person could say to be helpful, and i can’t really think of anything. there’s not really anything. im just sad. the last time i talked to him about how sad i was, i mentioned how i kinda wanna die. ive said that to him before. most of the time i think he doesn’t take it seriously, which i guess is fair, since i don’t think i would actually do it. that doesn’t mean i don’t want to. im too chickenshit to, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t seem kinda nice to be dead. anyway, he’s usually just like “don’t say stuff like that” “im tired of hearing you say things like that” or something else like that and then he leaves. last time though, he said he might have to put me in a mental hospital if i keep saying stuff like that. i haven’t gone to him about being sad since.
that was probably one of the only times i felt he was taking me seriously. but then he went right back to, as i said in one of my previous complaints, calling it “struggling to look on the bright side sometimes”.
i don’t know. i just feel like im suffering, and he doesn’t believe me.
it’s never gonna go away
im sad
i deserve to die
ive been to therapy, but ive never been to a psychiatrist. my dad doesn’t think there’s any point, especially since i wouldn’t be able to take meds for anything.
my therapist would have me fill out these forms every couple weeks, and they would say i had severe anxiety and moderate to severe depression. but she would always clarify that they weren’t an official diagnosis. she also said an adhd diagnosis would be worth looking into (but this is another thing my dad is adamant i not be diagnosed with). this was a few years ago, i haven’t been to therapy in a while.
so maybe im not depressed. but that would be kind of sad, wouldn’t it? on account of how miserable i am? on account of how much i hate myself? on account of how often i think i would be better off dead? if this is normal, and it doesn’t get better, i don’t want to be alive.
my dad, when talking to me about something else, started off with “i know you occasionally struggle, or maybe more than occasionally struggle, with looking on the bright side. i don’t want to say depressed. but bipolar is really bad. im glad you don’t have that”
im also glad im not bipolar. seems really hard.
but is that how he thinks i feel? that i maybe more than occasionally struggle to look on the bright side?
i talk to him sometimes about how sad i am. but what he said got me thinking. does he just not understand how truly awful i feel? do i just not go in depth enough? do i need to tell him every day how bad i feel for him to understand that it’s not just occasional?
or maybe he does truly understand how i feel, and that’s exactly what it is. maybe it really is just that i struggle to look on the bright side of things. but as i said, if that’s all this is, Fuck. I hate it. I don’t want to live it. if that’s all this is, and it happens to everybody sometimes, how are they so okay with it? am i just insanely weak, or something? is that the problem?
i do think, sometimes, that that’s the problem. that im just weak. not built for this world, i tell myself. too much of a fucking pussy. “you can’t handle being sad sometimes?” i ask myself. “you won’t make it in this world.” just fucking kill yourself now, so you don’t waste any more time. piece of fucking shit, just fucking kill yourself. and if anybody finds this, which i hope nobody does, when i say you in that context, i mean me. which im sure was obvious but i just want to clarify, just in case. i don’t want somebody who reads this to kill themselves. don’t do that.
anyway, i suck. im weak. there’s probably nothing actually chemically imbalanced in my brain. im just a piece of shit who can’t handle normal emotions. fuck this shit.
i am miserable. i don’t think i’ll ever not be miserable. so what’s the point?
i don’t think id ever kill myself. i don’t think i have the guts for that.
but god, i kinda want to.