Been wanting to write this for a long time. Didn't know where. Didn't know how. But I think this is the right place.
I know I don't have many followers on SG. But I thought, maybe someone will read this. Maybe someone will know what I'm talking about, and thus know that they're not alone. Or maybe someone will be able to help me get through this.
I'm 25. I don't remember ever being happy. Not before the age of 10, maybe. Highschool was a tough place. I wasn't really harrassed (not as harshly as some people, that's for sure), but I barely had any friends. Or they were bad people. Anyway, I've always been kind of depressed.
When I was 21, I met a girl. She was my first girlfriend (not the first girl I loved, though, but heh). This was a tough and bad relationship. She had her own problems, big ones at that. Maybe I thought I could help her, I don't know. We clashed often, sex wasn't even good since I was very anxious about it.
Then, one day, we found out she was pregnant. I wanted her to abort (I know, that was easy from me to want that), she didn't (and I'll never be mad at her for that, since I totally understand). Anyway, let's fast forward for a bit.
We're no longer together, but we live nearly next door to each other. There's no ambiguity. We both take care of our son, she's with another man right now. And I'm totally fine with it. Well, now she's pregnant with his son whereas they absolutely can't afford it (see below), and though she swears it won't change anything for my son and me, I know it isn't true.
I'm working as a freelance. Some months are good. Some aren't. Sometimes not at all. For the past eight months, I've been taking care of my son way, way more than her, since she works in a fast-food while studying. I have no life. I work, I take care of him, I work, I play some video games since that's the only thing I've got the energy to do. Can't meet anyone. Can't do anything.
My brains works fulltime. I can barely concentrate on work, or even on movies or series or whatever. I have no rest.
I struggle not to drink when my son isn't here. I'm on medication, but they don't seem to be reaaly working at the moment.
I'll just precise something: I don't have real suicidal thoughts. I could never do such a thing to my family or, of course, my son.
But beyond the sadness, beyond the depression that exhausts me, there's something else.
A beast.
There is something that I can feel growing inside myself. It feeds on anger, resentment, and anguish. It's been growing for more than ten years now. And I'm afraid I'll end up losing the battle. I'll end up a mean, bitter and twisted son of a bitch. I'm really not built for fighting, but on worst days, I sometimes pray for someone to provoke me so that I could unleash all that anger on that poor bastard (even though I'd most probably end up picking up my teeth on the ground).
I don't know, maybe I could write some kind of journal here. Day after day, or when I feel like it.
Maybe this could be my outlet.
I'll try not to read over my posts. I want them to be as genuine as possible.
What do you say?
