I think it‘s because I see myself as one.

Yes, I am a sadist, but also a masochist in the way of self-destruction and self-pity. I want to make others suffer not only because I like to feel the power and see them in pain - Deep down there is also the hope of making them finally see the real me, the creature in the mirror who I believe myself to be. I am cruel, I destroy myself in every way and every second possible. But I am tired. Tired of people seeing me as a pure, righteous human being. I am so deeply scarred and suppressed by my own lies that I want to show the world what I can be, what I already am to myself. I want to do something terrible, something beyond redemption or forgiveness. I want them to look me in the eye and realize they never saw more of me than I allowed them to. I want them to fear me, to hate me, to despair because of what I have done.

And then, only then, when I finally feel the consequences of my actions, I can finally resent from this world knowing I was right about myself all along. That I am worthy of this suffering and eternal loneliness, and eventually, worthy of dying. I want to fight and cry out trying to make others understand, and I want to fail, I want my friends to turn their back on me, I want to feel the real pain of being alone instead of making it all up and having others tell me it‘s only in my head. I want to be free from the chains of social dependency, I want to ascend beyond the borders of humanity and become a being of utter autonomy, something none can understand nor relate to.

In that way, I will dig my own grave and know that the soil is real. I will finally be the embodiment of my own melancholy, the villain I‘ve seen in the mirror and whose voice I‘ve heard in the back of my head for so long. I will close my eyes and find peace at the very last, in the deepest and loneliest darkness of my mind, for this tiresome, seemingly endless fight will be over and I no more than a mere shadow of my past. To give and to receive, pain will be my first and last creation, my gift to the world and to myself.

The answer is literally no. I have dysthymia, I do not care about anything nor have I for a long time. There is no point to anything so why would I have feelings related to something being important?

This is a comic about my experience with covert NPD, ableism will not be accepted

This is word for word something that one of my close friends said to help me with my tendencies to never express any of the intense negativity I feel and honestly this really helped me understand that I’m not wrong for wanting to vent that anger

UNTETHERED

An outsider.

I don't feel real. Not really. I know I am, but sometimes I wonder.

I cannot focus, if this isn't real, what is?

The world runs in circles around accomplishments I have yet to see.

I cannot focus, my body is here but my mind is away.

Thoughts are broken. Fragmented, like a million comma splices.

I feel so alone here. Everyone else seems to feel real, but I feel so odd, like a ghost haunting a body, wondering if someone will notice.

There is no one to tell. No one understands.

How do you explain that nothing feels real? That it all feels like some sort of dream you have to wake up from at some point but never do.

Does the rest of the world exist? Is it all a figment of my half insane mind? How would I know?

I wish I could stop this feeling. Finally feel life finally get everything done I need to.

But... I suppose that's why I'm here anyway. So much to do, enough time. So. Why. Can't. I. Focus?

I have to hide these feelings. No one can know how much of an outsider I truly am.

I told them. They dont care. Don't know what to do. Don't know what's wrong with me.

I wish I knew. But an explanation wouldn't fix me. Nothing truly does.

They're to busy to care anyway. Trying to fix themselves, put a band aid over a crack in a large dam.

How do you ask for help if no one can help you?

I do not feel real. Time is slipping away.

I've done nothing.

I wish I could. But my mind is so fractured, so frazzled nothing seems to process, to matter.

There is so much I must do.... So I suppose I do none of it.

Time goes so slow. But they day is half over.

I wish I felt real.

I'm so desperately suicidal every day I know that I exist.

These empty claims of "things will get better", "suicide isn't the answer", "you would be missed", other shallow sentiments .... I don't understand how people could be reassured by things like this. I've heard these and similar statements so many fucking times throughout my life and they're so impersonal and they lack nuance.

They're no better than a greeting card produced en masse in a factory to be then bought by people who want to look like they care.

I know I will be missed, the same way I know I'm "not alone" and "other people struggle with the same things". I know it's true and it doesn't change anything about how I'm feeling. People will be sad about my death no matter what, there's nothing I can do about that, who cares. That's just how it is. I was never going to be the only one on earth, but god damnit if I'm not the only one in my immediate vicinity to be a suicidal schizoid crow. That's just how it is.

I've recognized the impersonal sentiments long before I came to be what I am now, and I make a visible effort to avoid them. They don't help. Caring for someone means saying things that pertain to their situation uniquely. That's how they know you care and that you're paying attention. "You're not alone" is an empty sentiment and your suicidal friend isn't stupid enough to not see through it.

You perpetually have a cold. Except, no one knows that you have a cold, so everyone thinks this is just who you are.

And, you’re not going to die from it. It’s not cancer or anything. You just don’t feel good. You don’t feel like yourself. You just feel tired. You don’t feel like doing anything.

And, you’re taking DayQuil, but it doesn’t do anything.

And you just want to let your body rest so it can get over this cold. But you know that you’ll never get over the cold, so there’s no point in resting. And you couldn’t fall asleep anyway.

And there’s no one there to take your temperature by kissing your forehead or bring you soup. So, you have to bring your own hand up to your forehead but you think you’re probably just biased because it just always feels hot to you, so how would you even be able to tell the difference? And you don’t feel like you can cook right now.