So this happens very often and usually doesn't even exhaust me, which is not so good because the rest of my body gives up even if it's not doing anything at all, but every now and then I have thinking / talking with myself sessions which usually can't prove any point because I can never reach to an agreement with myself because considering all the variables gives way too many evenly likeable solutions to the problem I am discussing with myself. 

So whenever I have to deal with myself and the summary of the past events that had happened recently or not-so-recently,  I usually end up either very depressed, angry, crying, disappointed, and never happy. And that is very frustrating. And what is more frustrating is that many of the times, just not to say always, suicide as a final solution seems very reasonable and convincing. And some times I really believe it is. But it's not at all. And I don't know how even I am getting to that point of even thinking about it when I am actually afraid of death because it's the only thing that is clearly unknown and I am terrified of it. Still at some points I am convinced that this is the only thing I am left to do. This obviously led me to the fact that my brain it totally not working and it's heavily damaged somewhere. 

Most of the time when it comes to consulting myself with myself I pity myself about how unfortunate are the things that happen to me while I'm wandering through my years of existence and how the unfortune continue to haunt me and that it's a curse from which I cannot escape unless... you know. Whenever I try to bring up sometime good that happened, it is almost instantly buried under countless bad things some of which are even off the topic but the fact that they happened is big enough for them to jump in the frame. And all of this is bringing me down on a daily basis. Instead of getting better I am getting worse and worse from the inside and I am getting better and better at hiding what is really happening within me. 

And then it actually hit me. For now I am tolerant about all the damage I am self inflicting and all the pain I am causing to myself and I still bear with myself. But if this continues, it will really be the end of what I am because simply one day I'll get enough of myself and wouldn't want to live with what I've became. Then I'll be the end of myself because I already became my own demise and that what it is its not me.

This is really terrifying thought because part of me thinks that getting worse is times more possible than getting better. Even more terrifying is that all this is caused because I am trying to take control of myself and over my emotions but instead of being in control it has the exact opposite effect. 

Thinking straight, I used to be intelligent, or at least smart, but now I considering myself retarded because I can't operate even remotely normal with my own brain. For an example I will present something that my brain is trying to process to me and even though it's propaganda doesn't make sense it still does promote the idea whenever he can:

Consider a thing. That thing may or may not exist, just like the Schrodinger's cat, you cannot know until you find out. Brain says it must exist, tries to convince me how it will benefit me and plants the seed of the idea. Then convinces me that I actually want it to exist because I want that thing. Leaves me to think about it. On one hand it wouldn't be even a bit bad if the thing exists and I actually would like it to be so. On the other hand the real possibility of the thing's existence is not higher than the chance of me having milk and cereal at the same time in my house, i.e. one out of forty seven times to be exact, and also I don't think I need this thing at all. Even though I am a fan of the idea of it not existing, I have to constantly remind myself of it because somehow I, in my daily floating thru the space, find the idea of it existing more warm and pleasant, which makes no sense at all because on the other hand I even have some arguments that prove the thing's existence to be wrong.
I still haven't opened the box because I am afraid to do so because it involves other people, just to mention it if you haven't done the math already. 

What I think is causing my brain malfunctioning is the processing of emotions or the inability to do so and causing it to overload. Some very entangled feelings like guilt about doing certain things the worst possible way leading to my own fall, creating a loop of guilt, which generates a feeling of sorrow (because why would I be compassionate to myself) about so many possible things that can't be anymore, making the guilt even more strong. Other things is the feeling of being completely unable to change anything, which rises the level of fear towards inevitable events that are about to happen sooner or later, making me feel so little and insignificant and helpless...

And of course how could there be such a disfunction without the greatest enemy of the mental stability - the one and only - Love! (Notice the capital L, it there for a reason) An edge you can cut yourself countless times with, yet it's never enough. 
But the thing is, if you "cut" yourself on purpose, it's not real, it's illusional. I know it because I've done it, and I'm still doing it from time to time because the feeling of doing something in vain became my jam and now and then I do it to distract myself. But that is just a bad habit with which instead of abusing my whole body with some drugs, I am abusing my mental state just because I am addicted to the thrills it brings me.

 Maybe now it's the time to confess that I am addicted to sadness. It is really amazing to be happy, I've been there, people told me then that they never seen me like this before and I really felt better, but sadness it's easier to find. With the years passing I somehow managed to find a weird way to deal with it and now it is the closest thing I have to pleasure. And that is my drug. 

Now back to the Love. This is the strongest feeling you could ever feel in my opinion and it should be strong to be what it's is supposed to be. That is how I know that I love my brother and my father and that I don't feel the same about my mother,  maybe because she turned out to be the more abusive parent but sadly the one who can provide enough for two children after my parents split up, which makes no sense because the both are equally worse and I should only love and care for my brother (I don't want to go into details to prove it). But the thing is, that love seems like its not the strongest of them all and I couldn't say something like this without actually experience it which I do and is the thing I cannot comprehend. No matter how many times I ask myself why, I can't explain to myself why I feel the strongest feeling I am feeling about this person. I met this person two and a half years ago by a complete coincidence, never thought that this person could become so close to me, but it happened and I completely lost my mind over it and let my heart take control. It was something I never felt before, strong, alive, exciting, amazing. And the only thing this feeling did was grow bigger. Even though I am not with that person or neither I should be or even never again be with, this feeling is still there, growing stronger and stronger, even after I thought it reached its limits. Many times I tried to destroy it, to turn myself against it, mark it as bad, but it fights back and finds a way to take over everything. And this is the feeling that keeps pushing me forward to not give. This is what I think Love is.

Yet again I wrote one hell of a long writing about myself, for which I am very thankful if you spent your time reading the whole of it. 