Broken pride

I need help. I'm too fucked up. And I'm scared. There aren't many people that I can get a hold of at 2:30 in the morning with no long distance. I should sleep, but I can't. Depression has hit me too hard. I need to be back home. I need to be with people that I know care. My pride is gone. I can't hold myself much longer. Adieu. Josh

Unaiding Realization

Well, I seem to have figured out (through a conversation with my friend Derrek) what my problem is. I am an empath. Of all the things I thought the problem could be, being an empath was the last thing I would have thought of. I have noticed that most of the emotions that I feel are the result of the emotions being experienced by those around me, mostly because I try to help everyone deal with their problems. The thing is, I often forget about my own problems while seemingly assimilating to the problems of others. By helping others, I guess, I see more and more problems with myself. It's like emotional hypochondria, almost. And short of changing every shred of personality and morality I possess, I will always be as such. This personal epiphany doesn't really help me, though. It just puts a label on it. It does lift some weight, I guess. At least I know what's wrong with me, instead of having that omnipresent "Why?" always lingering. I do exert far too much effort attempting to solve the emotional distresses of others. I'm not content with just listening to peoples' problems, I need to solve them. That's the biggest problem. I need to solve problems. I guess that's why I want to be a philosopher: my only goal would be to solve the most difficult problems there are. Now I guess the next "Why?" I will have to work through is "Why am I an empath?" Is it the fact that I have lived through more difficult times than others and have the experience that they lack, and trying to help them gain the knowledge of their particular experience sooner? I mean, they'll get it eventually, but it's always nice to have someone help you through. Or is it the fact that I can't stand to see people sad? But that would come back to being an empath; when others are happy, I am happy. Or is it possible that my traditional upbringing, which has taught me to help who I can, is coming back to bite me in the ass? I can't help too many people with tasks that require strength because, quite frankly, I'm a 6'1", 150 lb., scrawny white-boy. After sitting around for too long, that atrophy thing will get to you. Maybe I am an empath because no one was around to help me when I was going through hard times. But now I fear I may be getting too specific. It's probably a cumulation of all these things. You know, ignorance really is bliss. If someone would have taught me earlier in life to be obedient and not to ask "Why?", I probably wouldn't be in this situation right now. But then I wouldn't have anywhere near the knowledge I have. And now we're back to the old Wisdom vs. Happiness debate. Gah! I'm starting to spout platitudes. Oh well. Shit happens. No more "Why?"s for tonight. Adieu. Josh

Something Irrelevant

I am starting this blog with no specific goal. I just need to do something so as to keep my overtly exhausted mind occupied for a period of time. I fear if I don't bad things may happen, whether they be towards myself or others is undecided. I have entered depression, though most will never know. The wonderful few that view my blog, you are among my chosen. You have been chosen to know of my depression, while most everyone else I associate with will believe that everything is okay with me. Fact of the matter being it's not okay. I am full of hate, anger, sadness, and every other emotion commonly annotated with depression. I don't like being this way, and I don't want people to see me this way. I can't stand to burden others with my problems. This blog is my only real vent. I can deal with everyone else's problems, and I actually ask them to tell me their problems. I like to see people happy. So why can't I be happy? Why can't I explain my problems to others? Why do people ignore me? Why do people avoid starting conversations with me? Why are all the people I am attracted to seeminly appalled by me? What makes me so shy around people? I came to college with a clean slate and the ability to be however I wanted to be. I wanted to be a good guy, I wanted to be friendly, I wanted to be care-free, I wanted to be noticed, but most of all I wanted to be loved. I have been a good guy, but the rest of my goals kind of fell through. I care too much about things I shouldn't, and not enough about things I should. I tried to be friendly, I guess that kind of worked, but the results I desired were not the results I received. Some people have noticed and accepted me, but lately it seems as though they are annoyed by me. This is probably just paranoia due to my depression, but who knows. I want to be loved though. I am sick of being shot down for no reason other than being myself. Every time I make an attempt, it falls through. I am very old-fashioned and chivalrous with women, but that just seems to make them want to walk all over me. I am not respected. I am afraid to even try anymore. With anything. I am afraid to try. Emotionally and mentally I can not withstand another letdown. I don't know what to do. I want to say "Fuck it" and just do whatever without a care as to what happens. I mean, with 12,000 or so people on campus, there has to be one willing to at least give me a chance. I just want someone that I can go to whenever I want and they will just hold me. I want someone I can talk to for hours. I want someone that can sit with me for hours and not say anything, but still feel like everything has been said. I want attention, I guess. I have been without it for far too long. And I don't mean sex either. Just someone that will be with me. I know for sure that if these feelings continue for too much longer I will become a danger to a life, whether it be my own or someone elses. I am afraid I might snap. I don't want to snap. Please, if there is some force governing all that exists, don't let me snap. Adieu. Josh