Because I know what it's like to try so hard

I think I'm just too ugly to be loved. What's wrong with me? I don't know. I thought being in the army would help me to think lesser of the negative issues, but I guess it still lingers in my head. I'm a very self-conscious person. People may point out my flaws, thinking that I have not noticed them, but then truth is, I notice every flaw of mine, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I certainly do not like to be reminded of what an imperfect person I am.

It's already kind of difficult to be alive when I know full well that nobody wants me. It's true to come to think of it. No one really kind of literally tells me in my face that I meant so much to them in any way. Sometimes, it feels better not to talk at all, about anything to anyone. Sometimes, I think about killing myself, because I have no reason to live. But then I think, I have no reason to die either. And suddenly, to me now, nothing even matters anymore. All I wanted was to sleep forever.

I'm not sure if I'm depressed or what not. I mean, I'm not sad. But I'm not exactly happy either. I can laugh and joke and smile during the day, but sometimes when I'm alone at night, I forget how to feel. I like to be left alone. But when people don't notice I'm absent, it hurts. And I know it's my own fault, for becoming invisible; for isolating myself. But just once I want someone to notice, to truly notice and care. Perhaps in the past people do. But I guess I'm the one that needs to be at times reminded that I still matter to others.

I hate myself so much. I feel like killing myself from the inside out. It's so painful to keep on living every day, to know how I can't even stand any bit of myself at all. I can't learn to love myself. It's a horrible feeling. I've become a master at breaking my own heart, with simple thoughts, dreams and hopes that are impossible to achieve. Things that I will never fully accomplish, having literally no motivation to do anything and people who will never ever love me truly, because my mind holds me back so very much and it makes me so, so sad and frustrated.

Some days, at some nights, in the middle of the night of camp, while everyone was trying to sleep, my eyes filled with tears because I knew, probably they were thinking about their lives, or what they can do after they book out, but all I could think of was how I would much rather be at the top of a building about to jump. Most of all, I longed for death. I invited it; a release from the pain of living.

I tried so hard every day, to get better, to get over this, to forget it all and move on, and I thought I was getting to the point where I could say "Wow, I'm feeling a lot better." But right now, I couldn't feel any worse. I don't even know why I'm trying so hard when I know I'm going to fall.

Possibly, no, highly, I would believe people find me to be an attention seeker, a bugger, a nuisance or what not, labelling me as an emotional person. But that's the thing about depression. I'm tired of fighting it. When I feel it deeply, I don't want to let it go. It becomes such a comfort. It's like my only friend who knows what I'm going through and feeling. I want to cloak myself under its heavy weight and let it sink within me. I somehow want to nurture it, grow it, cultivate it. I want to drift asleep with it, and not wake up for a long, long time.

The kind of sadness I'm having isn't excused in the army. I can report sick for a physical wound, but how can my broken heart and mental hurts be taken into account for my pains to report sick? I'm physically unable to function every day when I wake up. Although I put in my 100% best in whatever I do, I felt no joy and seems like I'm always being used by others to get the job done. I look at myself and I see nothing that I like.

I feel so lonely in the bunk, I literally felt like I had no one to talk to. No friends to talk to and just keeping quiet to myself most of the times. Please don't say things like it's a choice for me to talk to them, because I've tried so hard but ended up being rejected. I'm sorry. I'm just messed up, okay? I don't know what I want to do and I'm sorry I'm such a fucking failure.

Some wounds are just too deep, and no matter how hard I work at it, I just can't stop the pain or to allow people to comprehend the hurts that I'm going through, wondering if I'm just another attention seeker. There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story within me.