Hey guys, it has been a while and I guess I just couldn’t think of anything positive to discuss for a week. I’ve found some more music to broaden my taste, but other than that, things just seem to be getting worse and it’s an unfortunate, grim reality that I live in now. I feel invisible, forgotten and not worth knowing.
Yesterday, my depression lead me to search ‘I feel invisible’ into Google and I found a plethora of like-minded people, each trying to make sense of their own lives and minds just like me. The resounding response I seem to be seeing is that it comes down to your childhood, the people around you, mental strength and very little about depression being linked to your genes; so if the nurture, sociological perspective is anything to go by, it might explain part of my depression. You can find the main article here that I found a good read in the early hours of last night.
After experiencing this person’s thoughts in their beautiful articulation, I can unfortunately relate. And it made me look back at my childhood through new eyes, taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing how my childhood was too less than exemplary and ideal. I see how I have always been negatively reinforced to be quiet, to go to my room, to tidy up and when I am out of sight and no heard, I am allowed to do whatever as long as I am away from my parents. I still spend the majority of my free time in my bedroom, doing whatever to procrastinate and waste the time by myself. My dad just literally asked me from outside my room, didn’t even come to the doorway and asked me whether I was doing anything important. To this I can say anything I like to avoid further conversation because no matter what he won’t care so I said ‘no’. Predictably, he said, ‘oh like usual’ and walked off. Thank you for the boundless love and support you give me dad, just walk away. Never in a million years could I share anything on this blog with him, he probably wouldn’t even care that much, not visibly anyway; he keeps himself to himself too.
And in spite of always being reinforced to be quiet, I have become conscious to how quiet I am socially and the juxtaposition to how loud I am by myself, listening to music and singing and being active myself. It has led to me leading a life that no one can see and people only assume about me, the generalisation that I am ‘anti-social’ and ‘depressed’, labelled boldly on my forehead.
I am actually a human being that depends upon social interaction and without it, I die a little on the inside every day. The sheer lack of people I see keeps me reclusive, judgemental, jealous and self-conscious. I try so hard to break from this solitary confinement and yet, my brain tells me that I am cursed to be alone for my entire life. Whenever I meet new people, everything goes sour in time; I manage to fuck everything up or I get told ‘it wasn’t meant to be’ or that I spend my time around ‘the wrong people’. If that is true, then where the hell are all of the right people? I don’t want people’s pity and aimless belief in positivity when positivity is what got me into this mess in the first place. I had blind positivity in love before, blind positivity in friends and family and 99% of everything in my life I feel like I have lost, am paranoid about, unhappy with and ultimately, distant from.
I will turn 19 tomorrow and somehow, it manages to top my last two soul crushing birthdays. My seventeenth birthday, I had tried to help my mother tidy up the house and I didn’t throw anything in the bin, I just put everything in bags for her to sort out and for once in our suffocating house, we had a little space. This was over a month before my birthday and still she didn’t speak to me even after my birthday. She bought me three shirts, one that didn’t fit and a pair of trousers. I realise I might sound spoilt saying that but it’s the principle that every year she had asked me and my brothers what we wanted, talked to us about it even if she grew less interested every year, she had still asked. But she has become such a twisted individual that she spitefully chose to get me back on my birthday and it was written all over her face and body language. My brothers were asked and they were both happy and now, frightfully familiar, I got left out.
On the day before my eighteenth birthday, my Nan, the one person that stuck by me no matter what and that I saw every Sunday for my whole life, passed away at 94. For the second time my birthday had been forgotten and none of us, including me wanted to celebrate it. It was awful and I knew that every time I would ever think of my birthday, I would remember my nan in pain now.
And now after this year, with my Nan passing away, my parents becoming more twisted, my illness in the Autumn, loneliness and depression, my nineteenth birthday is going to crush me. Five days before my birthday on my eldest brother’s birthday, I finally got asked by my dad what I wanted and after being remembered in the after-thought of a conversation, I didn’t have a response. The first time in my life I didn’t want anything material. I couldn’t care less about anything material anymore, money or gadgets. What I have is suffice and living in excess only makes an individual less human. I already do not feel human so no thanks, I would prefer to be forgotten. My brothers remembered my birthday and I made their lives easy by just asking for something arbitrary of little importance to me. I am just glad they remembered. All I care about these days is company and someone to share a connection with and obviously, money cannot buy that. It would seem that I cannot find that connection either, with or without money, with or without friends and with or without a future. Nobody wants to know me.
Have you ever said something in a conversation nobody heard, no one even showed any sign of acknowledging your existence? Or if people do hear what you say, they just ignore you or speak over you? Well I get all of those every day. The people in my life do not acknowledge me, not as a human with feelings and I miss feeling valued and loved. No matter what mood I am in, every minute of every day I would not care if I died. If I did, life would just carry on. I am invisible to the world and I could just equally fade away. My friends would carry on growing, have each other and live their own lives without me. My brothers already have their own lives without me. When I lived at uni, one member of my family probably contacted me once every two weeks and I knew that home life carried on without me. I get spoken about behind my back here and I am not valued; to hear the people who are supposed to love you complain and break you down when they think you can’t hear them, is what I have had all of my life at home. If I did die and disappear, they wouldn’t be busy complaining about me anymore, they would be living their own lives. I am just another white male and the world does not need another one of those.
I am not loved, no one depends on me, no one has fought to keep me in their life and I just exist, much to the disappointment of my family. After previously exploring how I have felt and still feel suicidal, to feel that way on my birthday will just make everything worse. I have no hope to feel happy, especially when I am at an all time low mentally and considering the handful of ‘friends’ I see now and then, no one will be celebrating me because no one that I know knows me. I will just have to wear an all too familiar mask and pretend to be happy that I am happy to have reached nineteen years of age on this big blue marble.
There is nothing planned for my birthday, no one has asked to meet up with me, barely anyone has even acknowledged it. I have to remind everyone because nobody feels the importance of my existence.
I wish that I could just be happy for once, actually feel like I have something to live for and get back the feeling of wanting to live. I currently have nothing to celebrate and be thankful for other than being so lucky to be born into a life with enough food and shelter to fulfill basic human needs… all basic human needs except love. The one thing that I am holding out for is the hope that this one girl from uni remembers her promise she made to me, that she would remember my birthday and talk to me on the day and that I would do the same for her, after all it has been three weeks since we last spoke and my hope is already dead and buried.
Until the day that I feel a sense of happiness again, I will continue to pity myself along with everybody else that looks past me; I will just fade into the background again and become another thing everyone takes for granted. And if that girl keeps her promise, maybe then I will see the day where I have something to live for, maybe.
Much love from your friend,
Nan, I will always be thinking of you.