
D&D
Write something, even if it’s just a suicide note.
- Dec 3, 2021
- 252
Hi, (again)
Again, because I was here before. Last year. My username was Una. I did not write or interact much. Maybe a handful of times. Mainly through the guise of creative writing. I felt (feel) too guilty, too ashamed to be alive. To be amongst people. Anywhere.
I became a recluse. It was not difficult. I live far away from the country I once called home and have no family. A couple of friends drifted away relatively quickly. As it happens. I don't blame them. After a while, I deactivated my SS account and tried to board the bus. But it would not let me. Have not suffered enough. True.
So, I came back. To suffer some more. As I surely must.
Why am I writing all this? Because it is all, I have. Words. I have lost everything else. Everything that makes a human. Through fault of my own.
I tried to re-activate my earlier account and emailed mods about it but received no response. It might be that the account and its content get deleted after a certain time. It is OK. Only, as a 'new' user, I cannot send any emails or messages.
Evening is falling fast here. As fast as rain that has brought. Summer. Shy one still.
If, by chance, you might like to say 'hi' … thank you.
I'll try my best to be kind and courteous. But I know I am no longer human. Not in any meaningful way. Which really is the only way. I cannot even bring myself to write how lonely, how isolated I am … because I know that many are. I feel like a fraud.
I know … there are many long and fancy words to describe such a state of mind. From the 'umbrella' words such as depression and anxiety to more specific ones like psychosis or bipolar. But those are just words too, aren't they? They describe but neither cure nor comfort.
As someone once said; 'Only retki nađu retke … '
I like Bukowski too.
I might update this thread from time to time.
Thank you for reading.
Una
Again, because I was here before. Last year. My username was Una. I did not write or interact much. Maybe a handful of times. Mainly through the guise of creative writing. I felt (feel) too guilty, too ashamed to be alive. To be amongst people. Anywhere.
I became a recluse. It was not difficult. I live far away from the country I once called home and have no family. A couple of friends drifted away relatively quickly. As it happens. I don't blame them. After a while, I deactivated my SS account and tried to board the bus. But it would not let me. Have not suffered enough. True.
So, I came back. To suffer some more. As I surely must.
Why am I writing all this? Because it is all, I have. Words. I have lost everything else. Everything that makes a human. Through fault of my own.
I tried to re-activate my earlier account and emailed mods about it but received no response. It might be that the account and its content get deleted after a certain time. It is OK. Only, as a 'new' user, I cannot send any emails or messages.
Evening is falling fast here. As fast as rain that has brought. Summer. Shy one still.
If, by chance, you might like to say 'hi' … thank you.
I'll try my best to be kind and courteous. But I know I am no longer human. Not in any meaningful way. Which really is the only way. I cannot even bring myself to write how lonely, how isolated I am … because I know that many are. I feel like a fraud.
I know … there are many long and fancy words to describe such a state of mind. From the 'umbrella' words such as depression and anxiety to more specific ones like psychosis or bipolar. But those are just words too, aren't they? They describe but neither cure nor comfort.
As someone once said; 'Only retki nađu retke … '
I like Bukowski too.
I might update this thread from time to time.
Thank you for reading.
Una