Fear And Loathing At The Supermarket

It happens every time I venture into the terrifying supermarket
My mind is besieged with anxiety with gnarled feelings of worthlessness
I enter the door with my heart racing at a frantic pace
Beads Of sweat form on my forehead as the anxiety surges through my body

Ethereal classical music is reverberating in my ear with my blue tooth headphones
The music helps to mitigate the hell of a brief visit at my local supermarket
I pick up a basket to purchase a few essential items as i peruse the shop
I rush around with sweat with terror with perpetual feelings of dread

Avoid eye contact with my fellow shoppers i keep my eyes to myself
Its utterly horrible i struggle to breathe struggle to maintain my veneer of outward serenity
Inside beyond this composed demeanour lurks a vast inner universe of suffering and sadness at being afflicted with a determination social anxiety disorder

To assuage my anxiety I perform a few idiosyncratic non verbal ticks
I profusely tap my fingers against my waist then i rub and scratch my fingers against my palm
I keep tapping my fingers occasionally rubbing my face to nullify the intense disquiet that pulsating in my fractured mind
After a 10 minute agitated shop i am finally at the checkout
This is the worst part having a cashier judging me excoriating my appearance my purchases i begin to breathe at a accelerated rate finally i hand over my card and I’m free to leave this wretched place free to leave the nightmare performing a rudimentary everyday task normal people take for granted

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Shadows And Tall Trees

Outside my bedroom window all i see is the shadows
A melancholic scenery of autumn trees
No sign of life no colour a absence of humanity in my secluded residence
I am alone sequestered away yearning for human contact to assuage my depressed anxiety laden malaise

All alone at home with the silence that terrifies me
No noise apart from the occasional distant echo traffic
I listen to tranquillising mediative classical music to dull my senses
I pour shot after shot of potent whisky to escape my wretched forlorn reality

Then staring intensely outside my window at the nighttime panorama i shed tears
I am alone without love without friendship wanting a hug a random act of kindness to rekindle my fading humanity
I am already dead waiting to die waiting the inevitable death to end my bleak vapid existence

The loneliness of my life with my untreated depression my social anxiety is slowly poisoning
I can feel the noxious fumes corrupt corrode my lust for life
I used to have dreams to have gleaming with fantastical visions of a illustrious future now i am a sad pathetic twenty something wanting death to end this lonely desolate life i am living

Still i glare at the flickering incandescent light that flicker with life
Inside my abode there is a darkness and walls that howl with despair

Isolation

Trapped inside my flat my insulated enclave
Trapped inside the inhibitions of my anxiety riddled personality
The isolation the alienation of my life is slowly killing me
I look outside my dusty window and see a vast landscape a world with colour with beauty i want to experience to taste to devour

My anxiety disorder precludes me from regularly going outside
Only when its necessary such as attending my job or purchasing food at the shops
Other than that I remain ensconced in my tiny flat hidden away
Turning down requests from friends for nights out with this onerous anxiety that never abates or relents

I desire to be rid of this pernicious social anxiety
A debilitating anxiety that renders me paralysed with nervousness when I’m outside of my safety zone of my flat
I cant go out anymore hence i refrain from answering incessant messages from old friends
I hide with all the lights out not wanting to communicate with another soul that’s how horrendous the anxiety gets

I suffer from regular humiliating panic attacks when I’m in public
So I retreats further and further inwards into these protracted states of isolation
Theres initially comfort in the isolation but the loneliness is painful
I have nobody to confide with nobody to hug to kiss to feel the torture of my disorder the loneliness gets so bad I contemplate suicide

Subhuman

On the outside peering in never feeling human
I see lovers kissing i see people laughing luxuriating in the fruits of life
People comfortable in their own skin having no anxiety no disquiet
Whilst i am a outcast a other a subhuman consumed by self loathing

I am not of this world not meant to fall in love
Happiness eludes me in a sad form life devoid of physical intimacy
I have friends but am unable due to the impediments of my personality from falling in love or experiencing the ecstasy of sex
I fantasise about having a lover caressing my body being taken to new realms of euphoric bliss

I will never have that illusionary vision of love
My life is a life permeated with loneliness
Nights spent alone in my dank decrepit flat
I shed tears as I sink deeper into the mire into the rut of suicidal depression

My body dysmorphia my self loathing precludes from tasting the luscious fruits of the world
I am cursed to be on the outside to wander aimlessly the alienated wilderness of my adulthood
A subhuman freak who makes other humans shudder with horror at my repulsive physical appearance
My face my eyes my body my entire essence devoid of grace of beauty my personality condemns me to terminal torturous loneliness

Ghost

I’m not here I’m already dead
I meander aimlessly through life floating like a ghost
Nobody looks at me pays a modicum of attention to me
Am I alive am a phantom is there blood in my veins

I feel numb devoid of vitality no colour in my pallid complexion
I have stopped smiling stop exhibiting any emotion
My ghost face never breaks no emotion is portrayed in my haunted visage
Soon in the next few weeks i will hopefully become a ghost become a distant lamentable memory

I never go out anymore other to traverse back and forth from my employment
I stay ensconced in my flat never answer the phone
The curtains remain closed no sunlight no radiating beams of light enter my residence
I float in my flat like a dead soul wanting the sweet blissful release of death

I’m not anywhere i am lost in the limbo
My only dreams are to drift away to die
My eyes are screaming for this harrowing ordeal of life to be over
I am a ghost a mute emotionless subhuman creature waiting for my forlorn desolate languid life to be over

No soul hears my departed screams of emotional torment
No one cares i am already dead waiting patiently for my final day
Suicide I’d beckoning me i want it so badly to become nothing to be worms food

Suicidal Fantasies

In the mire of my terminal depression and deep alienation i have sick fantasies
I fantasise a myriad of ways i could kill myself
I envision slashing my wrists having a tsunami of blood spraying on the walls
Seeing my body seething in pain with a profusion of blood in a grisly end to a pathetic lamentable life

There are other dark visions of my untimely demise
I think about overdosing on a pernicious cocktail of opiates
Seeing my body drift away into permanent slumber into the vast nothingness
To end this torture of being alive being afflicted with a daily onslaught of anxiety and suicidal depression

The most preferable manner of suicide I have surmised is a slow hanging
I want the pain I want to suffer in a final cat of brutal machoism
First i will lacerate my body with a multitude of wounds then i will hang from my ceiling
I want to die slowly with the final minutes listening to ethereal classical music to send me off

I imagine not being discovered for weeks possible months
As my corpse rots with my body only being discovered by neighbours with the pungent odour of my decaying body
My end will be even sadder as it will highlight the depths of my alienation my isolation
This is how foresee dying and being found by a neighbour or a distant friend who will be horrified by the macabre scene of my flat asa my gnarled decomposing body is hanging from the ceiling after months leaving behind only a succinctly worded suicide note

Goodbye Part 1

It is a cool July evening as i survey outside my bedroom window a breathtakingly beautiful psychedelic sunset. The cool breeze hits my weary face with a sadness as this is the last time i will witness a awe inspiring sunset. The last time i will be witness to a glorious illustration of the unblemished beauty of nature through the skyline in the heat of summer. The once sweltering July heat has cooled off to a tranquil pleasant temperature as the light breezes hits my ravaged face. I stare outside my window for hours just observing the change for day into night. I hear an array of the sounds of nature birds are tweeting with the seductive bird song. I hear the distant echoes of humans enjoying each other’s company. I complement the melancholic but serene ambience with the sad piano music of Chopin. Sporadic tears stream down my face as i complement the destructive actions i have been planing for weeks. Right now I’m realising that this is the last night on earth that if I successfully terminate my life ill never see a sunset or hear all the transcendental sound of nature that emanate out of my secluded bedroom window.

I intensively stare at the iridescent sunset its like my short life that will soon end. As the evening transforms into the darkness of night i close the windows and retreat into the desolation of my room. My empty room a visual metaphor of my damaged empty soul with the void of colour no light no life in here. I have prepared my room for my final YouTube video that will be broadcasted life on my channel where i expound on my battle with mental illness. I have set up the camera prepared the clothing the music the dolorous atmosphere I have engendered for this my swan song. My last act as a human being unable to carry living in a cold inhospitable land where humans beings are so indifferent to each other.

I sit restlessly on the edge of my bed wearing a nirvana T-shirt and haggard denim jeans. There is no question i will kill myself tonight i my failing YouTube channel that nobody watches. I hope that in a desperate act my life will gain some relevance some meaning.

I am 23 living as a copy writer and editor for a moderately successful publishing house in the town of Cambridge. I graduated successfully from Cambridge university with a degree in English literature was able despite my social anxiety to navigate the vexing world of higher education. However as I progressed my social anxiety grew more severe. The panic attacks became more frequent and increasingly harrowing. I struggled to survive in the outside world found socialising almost impossible did though maintain a select tribe of friends. Romantic relationships become impossible due to the severity of my anxiety my untreated depression and my propensity to remain inside my house. As my university education progressed the depression also exacerbated as I refused to seek professional help or confide with a confidant about my melancholic state of mind.

Throughout my 3 year education at Cambridge I kept my mental afflictions a secret never speaking to anybody putting on a veneer of sanity to mask the pain of being me. My only avenue of self expression was my poorly received YouTube channel. A channel where I disguised my homely appearance with a venetian mask as i delineated in 20 minute to an hour videos my weekly ordeal of being afflicted with anxiety with severe suicidal depression and suffering from a acute body dysmorphia.

I hoped these videos would alleviate my pain that they would act as virtual group therapy sessions. Where the camera the audience would be my fellow patients who reciprocated my pain. These videos as they progressed didn’t go viral as I envisioned they mostly received less than a 1,000 views gaining no traction on YouTube. My mental conditions i was elucidating on didn’t improve it gave me a brief moment of emotional catharsis but the suicidal predilections remained. I continued to suffer from habitual panic attacks the anxiety I experienced intensified as going out with my friends or on a date became intolerable with this torturous anxiety.

After I graduated somehow with a degree in English literature i was able with my prestigious education to get a job firstly as a copy writer and as a editor at a local publishing house. I relocated from my student shared accommodation to a 1 bedroomed modest flat in the centre of Cambridge. Forgoing moving to a new town or in London not wanting the stress that would entail from moving. I stayed in this quaint middle class town that let me live a sad empty withdrawn life. The months years after i left my university maintaining my collection of friendships I cultivated at Cambridge. Occasionally going on weekend getaways to luxurious Europeans cities or to musical festivals. My anxiety would abate around the comforting warm company of my friend i was able to function in spite of the severity of my social anxiety.

My post university life was that of a recluse who sporadically venture outside the safe enclave of my flat to meet up with friends or brave the nightmare of a romantic date. In that time I carried grandiose dreams of becoming a lauded writer of prose and verse. These dreams to this day remain unfulfilled in reality i am a poor writer who lacks the courage the imagination the discipline to succeed in the literary realm. My side project of weekly online videos was as equally as unsuccessfully and poorly received. I never became a online creator who’s eloquent illustration of being young alienated with mental health attracted millions of views millions of adoring subscribers.

Every weekly in a video diary i would pour out my soul allow myself for once in the venue of YouTube to be vulnerable to reveal the turmoil of my depression. I have talked about my anxiety painful attacks self harm contemplating suicide in these selection of videos on my channel. Virtual nobody has seen these videos i am screaming into the abyss having nobody share or care about my pain. I am a lost soul preparing my body and soul for a final desperate deleterious act where hopefully i will gain a modicum of prominence in death.