PandorasBox101
A cold hearted bastard
Yes, you read the title right. This is a rant about myself. I’m ranting on myself. Just read, trust me, it will make sense.
In order to know why I made this, first I’m going to tell you my life in a four-year time span.
Fall of 2016, my mother takes me and my younger sisters to a dance workshop. It’s a normal day for me, absolutely nothing is wrong. I have fun shopping with my mom, getting coffee, drawing, etc. while my sisters do the dance thing. It’s a pretty casual day. We go home and that night I find myself sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot cocoa between my hands. My mother and sister are watching a movie, Me Before You. I find myself staring deeply into the lively flames of a candle we have lit on our kitchen table. I suddenly begin to question the reality of everything I see around me.
It frightens me on a lever deeper than anything has ever frightened me before.
What if my life is a dream?
I try to shake myself out of it. I run laps through the house, I ask my sister if I can borrow her computer to play Don’t Starve, I try to sleep it off. Nothing works and I wake up the next morning with the same horrible feeling.
I don’t remember if I even got out of bed that morning. All I remember is sitting in bed at 12:00 P.M. crying uncontrollably. My dad walks in and tried to comfort me but I still feel terrible.
My mom comes home from LPN training and she tells me that my dad told her what’s up. She tried to comfort me, but that still doesn’t work. My sister starts chasing me around trying to comfort me as well.
This is when the dark thoughts began.
I began scheming daily on ways to end my life, thinking that if I died then I would wake up and the dream would be over.
This thought also terrified me, as even if it was a dream it was a dream about a family that I may not have if I woke up.
I tried to tell my parents, but my mom was so busy and my dad was against therapists of any sort. And so, I was stuck.
Fast forward a year.
The fear has lessened almost to the point of non-existence, although I do still have some episodes.
To this day, I don’t know what triggered it or why it stayed around so long.
Mid-2017, two weeks before school starts, my parents have a huge fight. The biggest one I’ve ever seen. Things get heated and all I can do is watch. My younger sisters are crying, my older brother is crying, and my two oldest brothers are an hour away in another city. I feel helpless.
This is when it starts, what I’m angry at myself for having to this day.
I became majorly depressed.
For the two weeks before school, I found it hard to enjoy anything. I slept on a family friend’s property with my mom and siblings for a while, staying only a few days at my dad’s. It was the worst time of my life.
A few days before school, I notice my parents are talking things out. They decide divorce would be absolutely inconvenient and everything goes back to what it was.
Everything except for my mental health.
Going into high school, this is the worst thing I could have experienced. I was already extremely terrible with social skills and this made it worse.
I joined an acting class, but spent the first three days silent and hiding under a table.
Literally, under a table.
I knew I wasn’t good enough to be in there. I regretted it immensely.
We begin to work on a school play and I’m finding it increasingly harder not to cry at practices. I’m having a hard time making friends with anyone and I’m already not feeling my best. I notice myself closely studying the curtain string, each tied delicately in a noose.
Bad sign.
I never tried anything, but I always wondered if my head would fit through them.
Luckily, I meet some friends who have been through rough times in other classes. One of them happens to be in tech theatre. They help me pull through a lot of this stuff.
But I begin to realize something.
Most of my friends have been through something I don’t even want to imagine going through. One of them takes medication to sleep and to help with her anxiety/depression.
And here we get to my point.
I still struggle with harmful thoughts and bouts of terrible depression. Social media doesn’t help, but I need to connect with people somehow.
I’m not in high school any more because the early mornings were only making it worse.
But here’s my point; everyone had their own reasons for being depressed. There are so many good reasons for people to have it.
I don’t have good reasons.
Sure, my parents almost got divorced, but emphasis on the almost. They didn’t end up getting divorced yet it still hurts me to this day.
I’ve never gone through anything worse than that. Nothing.
So, technically speaking, I don’t have a good reason to be depressed.
Yet I still struggle with it. I don’t know why.
I’m currently working up the courage to ask my mother about seeing a therapist. It’s not that she won’t let me, it’s just my parents have so much on their plates right now I don’t want to bother them. Right now, I just wanted to get this off my chest.
P.S. the reason for naming out the game and the movie is because, even two years later, I had trouble watching the movie and playing the game. For a year, I couldn’t even enjoy hot cocoa because it reminded me too much that my life might be a dream. There was even a specific pair of pants that I got that day that I couldn’t wear.
In order to know why I made this, first I’m going to tell you my life in a four-year time span.
Fall of 2016, my mother takes me and my younger sisters to a dance workshop. It’s a normal day for me, absolutely nothing is wrong. I have fun shopping with my mom, getting coffee, drawing, etc. while my sisters do the dance thing. It’s a pretty casual day. We go home and that night I find myself sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot cocoa between my hands. My mother and sister are watching a movie, Me Before You. I find myself staring deeply into the lively flames of a candle we have lit on our kitchen table. I suddenly begin to question the reality of everything I see around me.
It frightens me on a lever deeper than anything has ever frightened me before.
What if my life is a dream?
I try to shake myself out of it. I run laps through the house, I ask my sister if I can borrow her computer to play Don’t Starve, I try to sleep it off. Nothing works and I wake up the next morning with the same horrible feeling.
I don’t remember if I even got out of bed that morning. All I remember is sitting in bed at 12:00 P.M. crying uncontrollably. My dad walks in and tried to comfort me but I still feel terrible.
My mom comes home from LPN training and she tells me that my dad told her what’s up. She tried to comfort me, but that still doesn’t work. My sister starts chasing me around trying to comfort me as well.
This is when the dark thoughts began.
I began scheming daily on ways to end my life, thinking that if I died then I would wake up and the dream would be over.
This thought also terrified me, as even if it was a dream it was a dream about a family that I may not have if I woke up.
I tried to tell my parents, but my mom was so busy and my dad was against therapists of any sort. And so, I was stuck.
Fast forward a year.
The fear has lessened almost to the point of non-existence, although I do still have some episodes.
To this day, I don’t know what triggered it or why it stayed around so long.
Mid-2017, two weeks before school starts, my parents have a huge fight. The biggest one I’ve ever seen. Things get heated and all I can do is watch. My younger sisters are crying, my older brother is crying, and my two oldest brothers are an hour away in another city. I feel helpless.
This is when it starts, what I’m angry at myself for having to this day.
I became majorly depressed.
For the two weeks before school, I found it hard to enjoy anything. I slept on a family friend’s property with my mom and siblings for a while, staying only a few days at my dad’s. It was the worst time of my life.
A few days before school, I notice my parents are talking things out. They decide divorce would be absolutely inconvenient and everything goes back to what it was.
Everything except for my mental health.
Going into high school, this is the worst thing I could have experienced. I was already extremely terrible with social skills and this made it worse.
I joined an acting class, but spent the first three days silent and hiding under a table.
Literally, under a table.
I knew I wasn’t good enough to be in there. I regretted it immensely.
We begin to work on a school play and I’m finding it increasingly harder not to cry at practices. I’m having a hard time making friends with anyone and I’m already not feeling my best. I notice myself closely studying the curtain string, each tied delicately in a noose.
Bad sign.
I never tried anything, but I always wondered if my head would fit through them.
Luckily, I meet some friends who have been through rough times in other classes. One of them happens to be in tech theatre. They help me pull through a lot of this stuff.
But I begin to realize something.
Most of my friends have been through something I don’t even want to imagine going through. One of them takes medication to sleep and to help with her anxiety/depression.
And here we get to my point.
I still struggle with harmful thoughts and bouts of terrible depression. Social media doesn’t help, but I need to connect with people somehow.
I’m not in high school any more because the early mornings were only making it worse.
But here’s my point; everyone had their own reasons for being depressed. There are so many good reasons for people to have it.
I don’t have good reasons.
Sure, my parents almost got divorced, but emphasis on the almost. They didn’t end up getting divorced yet it still hurts me to this day.
I’ve never gone through anything worse than that. Nothing.
So, technically speaking, I don’t have a good reason to be depressed.
Yet I still struggle with it. I don’t know why.
I’m currently working up the courage to ask my mother about seeing a therapist. It’s not that she won’t let me, it’s just my parents have so much on their plates right now I don’t want to bother them. Right now, I just wanted to get this off my chest.
P.S. the reason for naming out the game and the movie is because, even two years later, I had trouble watching the movie and playing the game. For a year, I couldn’t even enjoy hot cocoa because it reminded me too much that my life might be a dream. There was even a specific pair of pants that I got that day that I couldn’t wear.
Last edited:
