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  • I am Dead

    I'm dead inside. Empty. Broken.
    It scares me that I can't even cry.
    Everything is gone. And nothing matters.
    I don't matter. I am nothing.
    I sold my soul. I have no heart.
    Just a hole in my chest.
    God, it hurts.
    Please someone save me.
    Save me from pain, from hurt.
    Save me from myself.
    I'm slowly dying inside...
    Who I am doesn't matter; what I write does...

  • #2
    You're a writer, of course you feel that way. Most of us do. I'll give you the advice that Vesnic gave me. WRITE ABOUT IT. It's surprisingly therapeutic.

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    • #3
      Im coming off a drug binge where I made a complete fool of myself so I know how you feel, or at least can relate.

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      • #4
        Only difference is that lately I've been balling my eyes out. lol. Actors would pay millions to tap into the emotional energy surging through me right now. I just cant believe that I did it again....I destroyed all the good things in my life. And like I said I made a gigantic fool of myself and hurt the few friends I have left and my family as well. If it makes you feel any better I can guarantee I am a way more depressed and pathetic example of a human than anyone in the world. So keep on keepin on homie

        edit: in fact the last and ONLY time I've ever cried like this was when my dad died ten years ago.
        Last edited by IMNOTCHUBBYTELETUBBYLOLJK; 05-14-2016, 02:31 PM.

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        • #5
          I dunno about that last part... I'm pretty darn depressed at the moment. And I really can't even cry. It sucks...

          Edit: I meant the part about how depressed you are... Not about your dad.
          Last edited by screaminginside; 05-14-2016, 02:38 PM.
          Who I am doesn't matter; what I write does...

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          • #6
            Hmmmm we could have a depression/arm wrestling match. But Im pretty sure I'd win. I dunno your exact situation though. I just hope you're not turning to drinking or doing drugs man cause Im telling you it wont end well. Youll end up empty, alone, AND broke. Basically everyone I know hates me or think I am a crazy fuck they dont want to come near. The sad thing is is sometimess I wonder if they're right. I used to think I was right and everyone was wrong but now IM starting to realize THEYRE right. But by the point I realize Im wrong its too late Ive lost all trust.

            And then of course thats when the tears come. Being utterly alone is a pretty depressing thing.
            Last edited by IMNOTCHUBBYTELETUBBYLOLJK; 05-14-2016, 02:51 PM.

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            • #7
              I'm already all those things. Even without drinking or drugs.

              Btw... I would take you on in a depression arm wrestling match, buckoo. Bring it on!
              (Wow, I actually smiled. Woohoo! Progress..)
              Last edited by screaminginside; 05-14-2016, 02:49 PM.
              Who I am doesn't matter; what I write does...

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              • #8
                Well have you ever sought counseling? Im sorry you feel so broken. It was actually a very nice poem you wrote.
                Im pretty sure if I sought counseling they would send me off to some island or something or lock me in a cage lol. Probably a zoo. Stick me in with the monkeys. Id rather they put me in a petting zoo but oh well

                by nice I mean it was eloquent in its despair. I could really feel your pain and emptiness coming through.

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                • #9
                  Oh yeah. Shrinks love me!! (Not really...) I actually think I make them uncomfortable, lol. Been to way too many shrinks, but none of them really help me. I have PTSD, chronic depression, and mild OCD btw. The last shrink couldn't figure out how I appear so happy and bubbly all the time, when my life is literally falling to pieces around me... But that was last year. I'm not bubbly now. Far from it. I don't think I've ever been this low before. I debated jumping in the river last night, but that's neither here or there...
                  Who I am doesn't matter; what I write does...

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                  • #10
                    I would say I am sorry but that is a weak and over used line. All I can say is your poem was quite eloquent. If you could really tap into that pain and harness it, you could probably write some brilliant material man. I can really feel your desperation in that poem, it hits you like a shotgun. Try writing some more, maybe a short story.

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                    • #11
                      Thanks for the advice. I've been trying to write a novel actually. But I'm having problems motivating myself. Maybe I will write a short story or something...

                      Oh and it wasn't actually a poem. I guess it could be one, but I was just expressing what I was feeling at the time. It helps just to try to write it down.
                      Who I am doesn't matter; what I write does...

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                      • #12
                        I just bounced out of a bout of depression. I'm on the upswing, unlike you idiots. Hahaha. Losers.
                        The organ is grinding but the monkey won't dance.

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                        • #13
                          Here's a poem I wrote during one of my low points; may it bring you copious amounts of joy and merriment.

                          If I filled the tub up to my knees
                          Would you please
                          Dunk me down
                          Until I drown
                          And kill these things inside of me?

                          If I made a cut across my wrists
                          Would you insist
                          I use some ice
                          To numb the slice?
                          Nails bite in from clenching fist.

                          If I tied a rope beneath my chin
                          Would you begin
                          To take the noose
                          And make it loose...
                          Make me start over again?
                          Last edited by donteatpoop; 05-15-2016, 02:00 PM.
                          The organ is grinding but the monkey won't dance.

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                          • #14
                            Very nice limerick. By nice I mean I could relate to it very well. Glad you came out of your bout with depression. I just found out my mother slept with my boyfriend. Heh. So yeah, I feel great.... Not really. I'm literally screaming inside. Isn't it awesome when you can smile and nod at people while you are thinking about slamming a fist into their face? Or cutting certain body parts off a certain man who dares to betray the most awesome, prettiest woman he could ever hope to have?? (Have fun with this one... Am I being serious? Hehehe)
                            Who I am doesn't matter; what I write does...

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                            • #15
                              Well shit. I hope to hell you're joking about the details.
                              The organ is grinding but the monkey won't dance.

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