...

It was never meant to be serious, but I think deep down I always knew it was.

I thought it was a cool concept, mainly highlighting my depression as a way to share myself and my own frustrations and all of that. To demonstrate how it feels to slow slip into nothing. But I guess, really, it was an observation. The beginning of the descent of Me. It's a constant sinking feeling. A constant dread. And, as part of the process, an observation.

Maybe its me. Maybe its others. All I know is that, the past few years, I feel that I am losing any goodness in my life. More and more, it feels like my wife legitimately hates me; I don't bring her happiness, and instead I just frustrate her, anger her, and hurt her. She says she loves me, but I don't think she really loves me. Maybe the concept of me. Maybe what I do for her. The optics, the chores, the errands, the fancy dinners, etc. I'm a status symbol. But the things that make me "me"? Zero interest. Music feels like it goes nowhere. As much as I've improved and honed and learned and networked, no one really cares about me. I try to make friends online, but I generally get ignored. Or other people are just irritating, annoying, cringe, or whatever else (sorry, I just don't enjoy sitting in a Discord server complaining about "adulting" and making constant sexual innuendos when I'm fucking 36 years old). Work has once again evolved into a burden, where every project is bad news, every co-worker and client is fucking stupid, and yet again, no one really listens to me. No one cares. No one asks.

Let me be clear, there's "no one listens to me" that my wife talks about, but I'm not talking about what happens when you mumble and are misheard. I'm talking about people who talk over you, interrupt you, talk down to you, ignore you, don't ask about you, and actually just don't even fucking care about you. I'm talking about not being seen by anyone. I say it over and over, but everything I enjoy, I enjoy alone. The things that make my life fulfilling are things I enjoy alone. I've tried to share. I've tried to talk. I have been told, by multiple people, almost verbatim: I genuinely do not care about this, teig.

Now, it feels as though my life slowly is unraveling. It feels like any expression of myself and my personality around my wife that doesn't explicitly cater to her and what she wants is a source of anger, frustration, and fights. What's even the point of existing, then? Literally what does it do for me? Even the small activities, like video games, only bring more loneliness, as I have no one to talk about things with, and no one to share with. And the people around me that I could share with genuinely don't care. Do you sense a theme? Do you have any idea how lonely it is to live an insular life in a setting where you're always around people. I feel like I'm two people. The one that exists to interface with the rest of the world, and then the one that's more authentically me. I have nothing, and I have no one.

All of this should be framed such that my ideations have gotten stronger again recently. It all seems to be growing, gaining speed. A snowball effect, really. And it just keeps getting worse. Truly, this has become the slow descent into nothingness, and soon I will only be able to perish. I don't know what that means for me. Truly. And I fear the rope is too short to reach me.