Every day, it’s in the back of my mind. I’m a burden. No one wants to be around me. I’m an obligation for them. A burden. Always a burden. Never good enough. Whatever I do, I’ll never be good enough. Never be smart enough. Pretty enough. Accomplished enough. Ambitious enough. Athletic enough. Interesting enough. Funny enough. Outgoing enough. Friendly enough. Strong enough. People don’t want me around. I don’t provide anything for them. Why would they want me around? I don’t want me around. Why would they fight for me? I’m not worth it. I’ll never be worth it.

Every day I fight these thoughts.  And even when I win, even when I can argue against these beliefs, tell them they’re wrong, scream in my mind that THEY’RE WRONG, they’re still there. They’ll always still be there.

Because when I lose – when the thoughts win – when the thoughts inevitably win, then that’s all I am. Maybe, maybe at the core of me, that’s all I am. A disappointment. Someone to hate. Someone who brings everyone down around them. A weed in this world. A poison. And everything and everyone in my life is temporary because they have to be. Not even just existentially, but inevitably. That’s what I am. That’s who I am. I hurt people. I am pain.

And as I wallow in how much I hurt others, I stagger between two thoughts. I am a negative in their lives, and once they get rid of me their lives get better because I don’t exist. So those are my two pain points: I either hurt people, or I am nothing.

So then…what’s the point? Why should I feed a life of burden, an existence that ultimately harms others? And if they leave me or I leave them, then their lives keep going. They’re better for it. I’m not weighing them down anymore. Ask anyone from my past who was close to me.

Who cares why I think like this? Who cares where it came from? Why blame my childhood? Because the thoughts are there, they’ll always be there, and I will always hurt those around me so what’s the point in analyzing the origins? It’s not just that I’m stuck. It’s real.  And it will never go away.

When the times came where I’ve had to fight myself, where I wanted to win and not let my mental illness consume me and destroy me, I’ve begged those closest to me, “DON’T LEAVE ME. PLEASE.” I’ve begged them to not leave me alone in my thoughts. How selfish. In trying to tear myself away from depression, I instead pull others into it. So what choice do I have but to be alone? If others don’t leave me, then maybe I should leave them. And then I’m alone. As it should be. As it will always be. And in this life, then what am I fighting for? It’s not a quality life. Is it even a life? What’s the point? I’m tired. I know I’m still young, but I’m always so tired. So why fight if all it leads to is suffering. Why care when it’s all temporary. Why try.