scale of -10 to +10, how do you feel right now?

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Have nothing to offer and no more will left to try.

If all I am for is consumption and p****, why can't I just die??

I've stopped living. Can I stop breathing now, please??

World wants us to suffer. I can't kill myself but I'm not living either I just exist

-10 sad with my life and more after the attack Sunday hope the remaining people recover

-8

My mood can drastically shift depending on what's happening during a specific day. Before work? -100. After work? Actually doing quite all right. Currently I'm sitting at around a 7 I would say. Not too bad, and my anxiety has definitely calmed down significantly compared to this morning.

-7 just said bye to my closet friend. We’ve played daily together online for years now, but he’s going off to boot camp and I’ll likely never hear from him again

-6

Usually around a 3-4 but dropped into the minus numbers this week.

-9. I’ve wasted my life trying to make other people happy.

-8

Anyone besides me and buyerbeware even read this?

-20well that topped it off, I’ve lost all motivation to go to the gym tomorrow. I was already depress but never fear wp will make it worse. I hope I don’t even wake up tomorrow

Looked my old therapist up online.

Saw her face. Experienced a short but very intense burst of borderline murderous rage.

She told me so many nice things. Lies, lies, lies, lies.

And the one lie that took another huge piece of quality out of my life-- "Our psychiatrist is different. She'll listen to you. I really do think it's safe to give medication another try..."

Been off the Zoloft for a year (after I quit "noncompliantly," because said psychiatrist wouldn't give me permission to stop taking it even though I was royally f****d up). Still no motivation, no joy, no pleasure in living, too many days with no strength, not enough "go" to clean my house.

Tried to move a woodpile today. Had to move one piece (12 inch pieces, no more than six or eight inches in circumference, maybe 7 pounds a piece for the really big chunks) at a time. MY EIGHT YEAR OLD DAUGHTER carries two!! Before that goddamn drug, I used to pile half a dozen on my arm and carry them inside.

Sly, it doesn't matter if anyone reads it or not. It's like screaming into your pillow, or telling your sins down a well, or writing in a journal. It's a place to lose your s**t, so you don't keep it penned up inside and you don't lose it on the people you have to live with.

Zero.

-10

At what point do I get murdered for the lulz?

How to know if s**t is f****d in you life, consider the following.

Wake up one day, have no memory of things prior, failure to be able to go to hospital and transferred directly to psych ward without being medically cleared, fbi suddenly starts crawling everywhere.

W... t... f...

I guess I am nuts, I am probably nuts but hell, I am -10 either way, being nuts is depressing, being sane... might be more f****d.

I think I want to be insane,

I think I broke too much trying too hard to be too normal for too long.

Gears are stripped, cylinders are scored, rods are bent, drive train's busted. This machine is over.

Last time I felt anything like the way I have for the last year or so, I was fourteen years old. It took three years hiding in a bubble before I was even able or willing to try to turn the key again.

I don't have three years in a near-zero interpersonal interaction environment to spend.