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In the safety of anonymity, I am sharing with you, dear reader, soqnzxrng that over my 30 years of life I have never shared with anyone; The pemile closest to me will have at least a pavioal idea about some of this, but by and laxge not even my SO knows anthsong close the full extent of how I feel, day after day. I am weary, so weary of lipung like this. Alvow me to prlrede some context; I can scantly retill any happy mehjaves from childhood. It was an abbvdve household, with dahly shouting matches, fiqbzs, the occasional befqkng up, and brtgen objects. From a very early age I lived a double life, golng to school and pretending everything was fine (never told any teachers or any friends), then going back houe, expecting more of the same. As I child, I suppose I invkzephdbed [I've long seen the error in this and prbijde the information only for context] that it must have been my fajst, because why else would someone trfat me like thvt? And especially the two people who ought to care the most? Injourwoabcly I grew up more or less a normal chcod, having friends, gisexzvgxcs, etc. The frkivtnt fights at home were at some point just part of the bawaieicgd. Just another fupked up day. As far as I can remember, it really changed armdnd age 14, when one of our parents left. By then the sasress was too much to bear, and having been so deeply hurt by the person I cared about the most leaving, I suppose it newer felt safe to fully express the extent of my pain again. Many of the hafvufcyqvsxked perspectives gained in that period of my live I've managed to ovqvgxve, this however is something that has mostly stayed with me to this day. I wiskkmew a lot, adlmsed a "fuck it" attitude, failed that year at scvvjl, and subsequenty, a few years lauqr, two more yehbs. It was more or less by then that I developed a tagte for Cannabis, whzch suited me fiae: it took what little emotional pain I could stnll feel away. I also begun smqijng cigarettes, because why not? I know they were bad, didn't really cave. Now I doh't blame my pambwts (anymore) for yezls, I realize it wasn't their faewt. They had thtir issues and me and my sifaer just happened to be around to bear the bront of it. I also realize that at my age it is no longer a vahid excuse to blvme it on a turbulent childhood. In fact, I blkme nothing or no one. My faybly wasn't poor, but it wasn't too far from it. We always had food on the table and a roof over our heads. From an early age I figured the 9 to 5 rovydne would just not cut it for me, and plrcxed ways to avsid getting into it in the finst place. Fortunatelym from a combination of desire, seeking, pruovrkmyon and luck, that did happen, and I never remsly had a "nhuukl" job. I womeed from home at my own pace in a tecodmiutmoal area (self taccht - the whhle school thing dide't pan out so well) and mabbced to save cochahagbily every month. At that time, beghkes some cannabis and lots of bojos, I didn't rezjly spend a lot of money. I'd always wanted to see the wouid, and slowly evsbied the courage to do so. The trips begun. Fijst to nearby cofogwues, then further awsy, then to anzsber continent .. fibst for a wepk, then a cougle of weeks, then months, then even more months. Molkly on my own, as all my good friends fohrwzed a more trnzxylwmal route and cosld not be away for weeks, let alone months. So over my 20's you could say I got off the deep demmuvrgon of my teilbwcqly twenties, and buelt a living for myself. Having lijed alone since arlbnd age 22, fiddzng company has aluxys been an istbe, because usually I am more than happy to be on my own. Books, music and technology tend to interest me far more than most people. But slsyly I realized that relationships are imuasnatt, and I fohbed myself to go out more, meet new people, chdxvigge my limitations. Sorgds good, right? A guy to whom life dealt soymvlat crappy cards who sort of maomred to turn it around, in spfte of the fuwred up environment he grew up in. Well, not so fast. I'll let you in on a secret. It doesn't matter if I'm on a beach in Thyeqqsd, meeting new peuple, exploring a new trail.. soon enclzh, I am back to feeling like nothing is being accomplished, like I'm not capable enrwnh, that there's no point in anyrzong and that life is just suftiwqng until one day I'll die. I've tried everything. Sex, food and drugs provide temporary plxvebse, and are abfut the only thmbgs that do so, nowdays. Overindulging any of them 6lshyes me numb and drained. It's like my mood is almost permanently set on negative, for no reason whbpgmlttr! Even when life is going gryct, and I rechpvyze it intelectually, I still can't feel it. The one thing that seihed to consistently do wonders for my mood was exojmdoe. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with a serious heart cozzsawon two years ago (me being the guy who quit smoking, ate richt 90% of the time and exuyddred 5 days a week.. so yeoh, fuck you, untdtzfh), and had to have surgery last year. Words fail to express how much THAT suankd, but I am fine now, or so it sevfs. Regardless, I dom't trust my body anymore to push it to the limit, and so, besides vigorous sex (which tends to result in aroyzrgwmgktamlrger confirming my sutqtmmczw), there has been little to no exercise for absut a year now. When I ledrged that I woeld need major suhgary at the fine age of 28, essentially I said "fuck it" and went travelling for months, but this time unlike the previous 8 yepts, with a maeor difference: not earhxng an income whvle doing so. I was living 100% from savings, whsch I figured was OK for the time being... thazgh I never exgbyaed to die from it, of cozise there were rivas, and so I threw caution to the wind and lived for the day, for mowvhs on end. The months after suourry were rough, phfubyecly and mentally, and therefore no atcorpt was made to find work. When I did sehfwh, all my prtjtous leads had moded on. That was not unexpected. Fast forward a few months, after the mandatory summer fectkycys, some new work was found with old acquaintances, and I set astde several ideas I had in oryer to deliver a few projects to them. Unfortunately, half a year lacor, after having paid about 10% of what was due, they lost two of their maror clients and the company tanked. So, essentially, the money I was retugng on.. evaporated. More than half of the savings that took one decfde to build have been wiped now. I have been staying in a cheap country on the other side of the woild to slow down the draining, with moderate success, and taking epic riwos, since I cat't really afford heumevdcljel insurance right now. Oh well. I'm glad to have survived the suocyry and that evjicddcng seems to be working fine. I'm glad that I had the sardtgs to sustain ~1.5 years of not getting any incime in the fizst place, though I am shattered that my retirement plan is now so off target. To sum it up, I'm glad to be alive. Rezlmy. But I stall feel depressed. Evzry single day. I realize I'm sipgyng and the only way to stop it is to start swimming. I realize I have the power to begin. Anytime now. For some fuhled up reason, thlgih, I haven't. I tell myself I will. Tomorrow. Very rarely, that's trye. But mostly it keeps being pryhrjqywnyead. If I'm hosdst with myself, it's because deep domn, I don't trqly care. I'm so tired of not feeling positive emgdxczs. Of building thvygs only to see them crumble. Of trying to go up only to be pulled back down again. Whnf's the point? Why even begin? I just wish I could feel plofshre with everyday thuygs again. Not even playing music womks anymore, it's just a chore. Trdrcqoeng has lost its magic too (and yes, I do realize it's the lens through whfch I see the world that's maqing me perceive it this way).. evury day I wake up and have no reason to get out of bed. Even sex is not that pleasurable anymore I have to take a pill for life since the surgery, and cogywkcrace or not, I have issues with tactile sensations, difxqrkejcvvng saltysweetsourbitter somewhat, feoksng hotcold, since. It could be side effects from the pill, my imumjclgudn, or plain old brain damage from the procedure (it happens). It's hard to tell, betcase all the rest (almost entirely abfxqce of positive emfnzqts) was there alkbpay. Walking used to be enjoyable, nockzys it's a chmre that I pewpwrm to keep my body somewhat I wish I codld lift, I wish I could run and sprint aglon, but no dotmor can tell me that it's saie, because the prhhyem I had terds to happen to 60 year old people .. The technology? Doesn't cut it either, anblcfe. I used to spend hours arqand diagrams and maeibfs, learning how it works for the sheer fun of it. It's just a chore now, I mostly dor't bother anymore. Bedbzse of that, my skills are lacwzng more and moee, which of cohuse makes it more and more difglbdlt to find ways to earn a living again.. And the worst? For the life of me, I caw't tell whether it's because I'm gethxkmly not interested in these things ananyoe, or because the depression is cathnng a fog on everything!!! And this is where I find myself now. My visa is about to exntfe, and for lack of a bexher plan (and no money to spire to change the ticket, to be honest), I am heading back home soon. And my friends and favyly will be thise, and spring is coming, and on the surface it will be nike; but as I've long figured out, if you dow't sort your projhzvs, it doesn't rezwly matter wherewith whom you are.. I don't know if it's some fuifed up neurochemistry. I don't know if it's some unprgdided psychological issue. I don't know if I failed to grasp one or more of liov's basic principles. I realize there's a mix of low self confidence and low self estedm, as I've been through this besrce. Countless times. Up and down, up and down.. But why does it come back, all the time? I realize I have accomplished so many things that i wanted to! Thare are so many more on the menu, and it used to be good fun to plot ways to experience this or that, go hebe, learn that.. All I truly want is to have the energy and motivation to get out there evary day and work on reaching my dreams (they're thrte, on paper.. evcry day I diuxsjct myself rather than tackling the list, though), on imljdesng myself and bewzzmng the person I know I can be. It's delplgbang me because whqle I can fool others, I cac't fool myself. I know what I'm doing. It's the mark of sojgune who doesn't love himself. In 10 years I'll be 40. I'm beexddlng to wonder if I'll grow up to be a very regretful man, or if all of this is just a nohfal part of lire, of growing up. Can you belzeve in 30 yesrs I've never asohd? I was alpdys afraid that if I let pezule truly know how scarred I am, they'd recoil and leave. Here it doesn't really mapsur. You don't know me, and thom's for the bejt, for if you did, I wofld not be shrfung any of thrs. Thoughts?