I don't know if it's just quarantine/social isolation depression finally catching up with me or just my life... but I've been feeling really down. I moved in with my sister to try and save some money, keep me from killing my entire savings while I don't work much during these last two semesters of school... and it probably wasn't the best idea. I know she doesn't mean to, but a lot of the things she says to me really do not reinforce my already dwindling feelings of self worth. I lived in a house for two years, and now she's bought a house, and I try to pass on whatever knowledge I have about it. She rarely listens to me. She asks my input, but always has a reason for why she doesn't actually apply it. We already had a (teary on my end because that's what I do when I'm upset whether I want to or not) discussion about this, and she says she doesn't mean to... but whatever. But this is all besides the point.
I just have a lot of feelings of inadequacy, and I can usually busy myself enough and drown out those feelings. Now, sitting in my room in my sister's house, feeling completely isolated from everyone... I dunno. Initially when people talked about how mental health issues will certainly get worse during quarantine, I knew that they were right, but I didn't really FEEL it. I can usually distract myself from my depression. I guess I am finally running out of distractions.
I hate school, I hate work, I hate Trump, I hate people I know who support him, I hate everyone. I hate feeling like the whole world is doomed. I hate feeling like it's the end of the fucking world, so why give a shit about anything? But that's how I feel.
Since I was little, I always had this suspicion that I will not live to old age. I've never been suicidal, but I've always just... kind of hated the world. I just don't find it worth the energy to participate in. Arguing with people about why they should care about gay rights, black lives, and women's rights is fucking exhausting. I can't be bothered anymore. I find very little interest in... anything anymore.
Sometimes I wonder if I have full blown anhedonia. I guess not, because I've now taken an interest in plants and roller skating. Well, I haven't started roller skating yet, but I'm waiting on my skates to get here (I've been waiting since mid-August), and I've bough a bunch of shit for it. I've been trying to force myself to become a plant person. I've bought a monstera deliciosa, a fiddle leaf fig bush, cuttings of an epiphyllum oxypetalum (which I grew when I was a kid), a begonia maculata wightii, a begonia amphioxus, a Stephania erecta caudex (which has yet to sprout), a pink princess philodendron, and finally some cuttings from three different types of Hoyas, a peperomia, and monstera variegata albo seeds (which have almost zero chance of becoming variegated monsteras). I've been reading a lot and learning a lot about plant care.... so I guess I still have SOME interests.... but there's really not much else in the world that gives me pleasure anymore. Trump getting covid gave me pleasure... but that's about it.
I am just tired of feeling like this. I feel like.... the world is just too overwhelming for me to keep going in it. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore.... maybe ever. I don't think I've ever seen one, really, but now... it feels like the path isn't even dimly lit anymore. I can't see where my life is headed, and I can't see where this world is headed, and it's all just very bleak. Life, that is.
I don't know what the point of life is. Working in healthcare... all I do is patch people up so that they can leave the hospital, not take their meds and do what they're supposed to, and land back in the hospital. And then we have to work even harder. And then people who do everything right get sick and die. And everything just seems so fucking pointless. Why do we even try so hard to live? Why do we try so hard... at all? I just don't want to try anymore. I am so tired of trying.