(a kinda long messy vent, that I haven’t proof-read all that much)

It’s been a while since I’ve had an episode as bad as the current one which, for context, began after an event while I was on the road. I saw a beggar; that’s literally it, one beggar among a sea of many in this cruel and unjust world.

I reached a red light, and when I saw her, she was holding an old, ragged and creased piece of cardboard, written in half-spanish about her situation of hunger, asking for help (for further context, I’m not american, and the pandemic has wrecked the country I live in to a hopeless extent), and she would pass by muttering gracias… gracias, at least that’s what I could understand, with most of the cars having their windows closed, not one car that I saw gave her some spare coins, I really, really, really wanted to, but had nothing on me so I couldn’t help her, not even one bit, and just about as quickly as I came in to the red light, it became green and off I went.

When I came back home I cried. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for several days, and I never saw her again, but a week or two after, I saw the same situation yet again, but a different person, different place, and I spiraled, I went to sleep that day almost drowning in my own tears, and by the morning I just forced myself to go back to routine, since I could not waste time being depressed due to upcoming university entrance exams, and I did what I do best, shoved all the emotions as far back as I could, mustered up the same old smile I wear, did what had to be done, or at least what I could do, and by the end of the day I’d be tired, hating myself, and let myself be swallowed by darkness, before sleeping, waking up and repeating it all over again.

All the stress of the admission process alone was enough to keep me up most nights, and I came close to self harming by cutting my thighs, a thought I’ve leaned on to several times before but have never been able to commit. But in the very least, just the stress, the anxiety offered me a distraction, however horrible it may be.

The exams have since then passed, and what was relief at first quickly just turned into this unbearable weight, and it all came back to me, all those bottled up emotions, and those brief flashes of memory, it all came back to me. I really wanted to do something about it, but at the end of the day, the few cents I could afford wouldn’t even help them all that much, as the price of everything has fucking skyrocketed, sometimes I wish I could help everyone, to have some food in their plates, a roof above their heads, a decent life, some hope of a better future to cling on, but I can’t do that, it is obviously simply too much, also as if I’m not enough of a mess on my own. How am I supposed to give others hope if I have none myself, how am I supposed to help others if I can’t even help myself to get out of bed some days, If I can’t even fight the looming monstrous shadow that hides in the corners and haunts me at night and waits at day.

The little hope I used to have as a kid is mostly gone, the chances I get into university are low, considering I didn’t do badly on the exams, but it didn’t go the required stellar level the high-end universities I’ve applied to have come to expect. Even if I did, I’d still have to worry about getting a job later on, which, not only is the job market by itself is already soul crushing, I’d have to move to a first-world foreign country for better chances of a decent life, but have to leave everything I’ve become attached to in my life go, and instead of doing anything to better things, just turn a blind eye, I just feel like an incapable failure that has so far amounted to nothing.

I used to be type of weird kid who looked up to superheroes in cartoons, or comics, and wanted to be the same someday, but nowadays it’s not the same, most stories, movies, series, just leave me worse off for wear if a character is successful, manages to get over a challenge, or even if they’re just generally happy, as it contrasts to my life and how much of a failure I truly am; from an outsider’s perspective my life is decent, not too bad of a living spot, decent education, loving and present parents, but I can’t help myself from this hole I’ve dug and thrown myself in. I do not deserve a single ounce of love that I receive from them, I can’t help but just think why. Sometimes I think about pushing them, alongside the few friends I’ve as far as I can, so that when I’m gone it wouldn’t hurt, and would perhaps even cause a little bit of joy/schadenfreude, as I can’t do anything of note or remark in the face of all the evil and cruelty in the world, killing myself seems like it would be mostly like a kid who covers their eyes in the face of fear; It’d still be there, I would simply detach myself, all the bad things of the world would then matter to me as much as they do to random rocks. The sun would still rise, the sky would still be blue, the world would be either the same or better off without me.

I just felt like I needed to vent a bit, even if it’s to the void