
JinZhin
we are in hell
- Nov 2, 2021
- 187
I have a terrible thing to confess. Or at least I feel like it is terrible. I at least I used to feel it was terrible.
a quick disclaimer: If I see someone shoplifting food/medicine, I didn't see anyone shoplifting and you should too. That type of thing has nothing to do with this story.
When I was 14-15, for a period of couple of months , I used to shoplift things I never needed.
Never being truly dirt poor to the point of being starving and homeless or in need of massive amount of cash, so there was no actual need to resort to that.
I also had no history of ever doing anything 'bad', risky or exciting or acting out in general. Up until then (now that I think about it after, as well) I never drank, smoked, did drugs, went to parties/clubs, hanged out with suspicious people, had a boyfriend, got into trouble with the law or just...well just nothing. I was a bookworm, nerd, very polite, soft-spoken and had straight A's
I wondered 'Why?'. I still ask myself 'Why?'. Is there even a reason?
Nevertheless, I did it tens, likely even hundreds of times, stealing stuff I didn't need and that I'd end up dropping off at park benches/libraries/under random desks/ giving away to homeless people. I was so close to getting caught so many times.
Getting caught. Honestly, I wonder HOW on earth I managed to get away with all of that and when I think back it is absolutely crazy and baffling when i think back how collected and calculating I must have been, how I to managed avoiding people from loss prevention and security guard while I'm usually the most unobservant and slowest person ever, how I'd do it with at a lighting speed whilst have reflexes of a dead horse . Point being, I have no idea how on earth I managed to pull off that crazy shit and it makes me shudder now
Being white probably helped but whatever
I remember Just the thought of ever getting caught used to make me shake in fear and not sleep at night s, I used to shiver and ruminate on in and not sleep for nights.
The shame, the guilt I used to feel, and still feel is something I can only describe as the most intense thing I've ever ever felt, the sensation of burden that heavy that pulls one downwards and crushes you with such an immense and unbearable weight. It's huge, larger than life and anything you can think of.
Ever since early childhood, I think I have been obsessed with guilt and shame. Like feeling my own existence was a mistake, a cross I had to bear until I die, feeling that I mustn't do anything or I'll be judged by some higher entity or those who have more power I do (luckily I was never religious) , feeling I take up too much space while I was never even remotely big, feeling like I mustn't be too loud when people regularly had to lean in in order to hear what I was saying...No matter what.
The reason I stopped, is, well, I just woke up one morning and there was nothing left other than this huge pile of guilt. I couldn't look up, I couldn't talk, I couldn't eat and it was probably the first time I felt this strong, ACHING to die and wipe my own existence of this planet. It was as if i reached a limit on how much I can degrade myself
It was in a way, like leading a double life, on one side, there was the blank, pure white, boring 'me', an empty page, known by nobody, that would do nothing, and on other side, the filthy, repulsive person, a fucking kleptomaniac who would commit irrational crimes, it was a horrible thing to do.
What I feared the most is most likely existence of someone who'd get to know both of them and see how truly despicable,dysfunctional and deranged I am. I regret it, if there's anything that I want to erase about myself, it'd be this. It's been over six years since I hadn't done it, and I still feel terrible about it. I've never...told this to anyone. I have been journaling for years and I could never bear to write those things, not because I was afraid someone would read it, but because whenever I meant to, I'd end up paralyzed, unable to keep on thinking, unable to move as if was being crushed by a huge rock. Because i wanted to die. I would have rather died that write it down or telling it someone, even telling it to myself, in my own thoughts, felt impossible. I want to die.
And t, think, after all this, the other day I thought to myself about doing it again because "My life is a black hole, a bottomless pit of emptiness and I want to feel something and it's all pointless anyways" - even though that's not true, . what one feels at a moment feels like absolute truth, because, well, that is nature of emotion. But I won't do it. Because I'm know I couldn't bear it. Because holding myself back is probably the only thing I've learned to be truly good at.
I really hate myself . I want to die. I deserve to die already. Rant over. I apologize to anyone who read this nonsensical mesh, I took too many sleeping pills again english is not my first language and all's kinda hazy now, I wish you a good day and all
tl; dr: I used to shoplift when I was in high school, never spoke to a soul about it and years later I feel unceasing guilt and remorse
a quick disclaimer: If I see someone shoplifting food/medicine, I didn't see anyone shoplifting and you should too. That type of thing has nothing to do with this story.
When I was 14-15, for a period of couple of months , I used to shoplift things I never needed.
Never being truly dirt poor to the point of being starving and homeless or in need of massive amount of cash, so there was no actual need to resort to that.
I also had no history of ever doing anything 'bad', risky or exciting or acting out in general. Up until then (now that I think about it after, as well) I never drank, smoked, did drugs, went to parties/clubs, hanged out with suspicious people, had a boyfriend, got into trouble with the law or just...well just nothing. I was a bookworm, nerd, very polite, soft-spoken and had straight A's
I wondered 'Why?'. I still ask myself 'Why?'. Is there even a reason?
Nevertheless, I did it tens, likely even hundreds of times, stealing stuff I didn't need and that I'd end up dropping off at park benches/libraries/under random desks/ giving away to homeless people. I was so close to getting caught so many times.
Getting caught. Honestly, I wonder HOW on earth I managed to get away with all of that and when I think back it is absolutely crazy and baffling when i think back how collected and calculating I must have been, how I to managed avoiding people from loss prevention and security guard while I'm usually the most unobservant and slowest person ever, how I'd do it with at a lighting speed whilst have reflexes of a dead horse . Point being, I have no idea how on earth I managed to pull off that crazy shit and it makes me shudder now
Being white probably helped but whatever
I remember Just the thought of ever getting caught used to make me shake in fear and not sleep at night s, I used to shiver and ruminate on in and not sleep for nights.
The shame, the guilt I used to feel, and still feel is something I can only describe as the most intense thing I've ever ever felt, the sensation of burden that heavy that pulls one downwards and crushes you with such an immense and unbearable weight. It's huge, larger than life and anything you can think of.
Ever since early childhood, I think I have been obsessed with guilt and shame. Like feeling my own existence was a mistake, a cross I had to bear until I die, feeling that I mustn't do anything or I'll be judged by some higher entity or those who have more power I do (luckily I was never religious) , feeling I take up too much space while I was never even remotely big, feeling like I mustn't be too loud when people regularly had to lean in in order to hear what I was saying...No matter what.
The reason I stopped, is, well, I just woke up one morning and there was nothing left other than this huge pile of guilt. I couldn't look up, I couldn't talk, I couldn't eat and it was probably the first time I felt this strong, ACHING to die and wipe my own existence of this planet. It was as if i reached a limit on how much I can degrade myself
It was in a way, like leading a double life, on one side, there was the blank, pure white, boring 'me', an empty page, known by nobody, that would do nothing, and on other side, the filthy, repulsive person, a fucking kleptomaniac who would commit irrational crimes, it was a horrible thing to do.
What I feared the most is most likely existence of someone who'd get to know both of them and see how truly despicable,dysfunctional and deranged I am. I regret it, if there's anything that I want to erase about myself, it'd be this. It's been over six years since I hadn't done it, and I still feel terrible about it. I've never...told this to anyone. I have been journaling for years and I could never bear to write those things, not because I was afraid someone would read it, but because whenever I meant to, I'd end up paralyzed, unable to keep on thinking, unable to move as if was being crushed by a huge rock. Because i wanted to die. I would have rather died that write it down or telling it someone, even telling it to myself, in my own thoughts, felt impossible. I want to die.
And t, think, after all this, the other day I thought to myself about doing it again because "My life is a black hole, a bottomless pit of emptiness and I want to feel something and it's all pointless anyways" - even though that's not true, . what one feels at a moment feels like absolute truth, because, well, that is nature of emotion. But I won't do it. Because I'm know I couldn't bear it. Because holding myself back is probably the only thing I've learned to be truly good at.
I really hate myself . I want to die. I deserve to die already. Rant over. I apologize to anyone who read this nonsensical mesh, I took too many sleeping pills again english is not my first language and all's kinda hazy now, I wish you a good day and all
tl; dr: I used to shoplift when I was in high school, never spoke to a soul about it and years later I feel unceasing guilt and remorse