No words can truly describe what I’ve felt. Every night, I dream of waking up to an empty morning, a wave of horror washing over me as I realize I am completely alone. Time continues to flow, yet I feel no connection to it as if my soul vanished decades ago, leaving only this rotting flesh behind. I am so alone, and I always will be.
i feel like I’ve always carried this persistent sadness, the kind that’s been taking root inside me ever since I first realized how cruel the world can be. Since that awareness took hold, I haven't felt genuine happiness or peace. Even when good moments happen, an underlying fear lingers. My mind is never at rest; I’m always waiting for the worst to happen, convinced that good things aren't meant for me and never last. The people I loved deeply are always gone. I was foolish to try holding on to things that were never meant to stay. I’m in pain every day because of how brutal life feels. The mistakes, the people I miss, and the past haunt me constantly, reminding me of all my flaws. I’ve been trying to get better, but every effort feels like it’s working against me. I don’t wish for anything fancy, just peace within myself, and an escape from this lifelong pain
Sometimes I look back at the memories of when I used to be happy. Even though it happened, a strange sense of unfamiliarity washes over me. I was so genuinely happy then; everything felt right. Those moments weren't perfect, but they were a sanctuary compared to the miserable life l am living now. I mistakenly thought that happiness would last forever...that I had finally escaped the torment. Instead, it became nothing more than an insignificant page in the book of my life. I mourn that fleeting era, and the version of myself who lived it, every single day. Near the end, I tried to claw onto it with everything I had, but it still slipped through my fingers. Now, those memories haunt me like a ghost, a cruel reminder that joy was once possible in my miserable existence. It turns out it was just a temporary distraction. The illusion vanished, the suffering returned, and I feel foolish for having faith in it. All it left behind was a deep, unfading wound in my heart.My mind aches with the weight of everything I wish I could say, just to release it once and for all. But I can't. I never can. This loneliness is eating me from the inside out. I lie awake, heavy with unspoken confessions and no one to hear them, simply hoping the pain will fade into the dark.
Though I have always made it my practice to be pleasant to everybody, I have not once actually experienced friendship. I have only the most painful recollections of my various acquaintances with the exception of such companions in pleasure as Horiki. I have frantically played the clown in order to disentangle myself from these painful relationships, only to wear myself out as a result. Even now it comes as a shock if by chance I notice in the street a face resembling someone I know however slightly, and I am at once seized by a shivering violent enough to make me dizzy. I know that I am liked by other people, but I seem to be deficient in the faculty to love others. (I should add that I have very strong doubts as to whether even human beings really possess this faculty.) It was hardly to be expected that someone like myself could ever develop any close friends—besides, I lacked even the ability to pay visits. The front door of another person’s house terrified me more than the gate of Inferno in the Divine Comedy, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I really felt I could detect within the door the presence of a horrible dragon-like monster writhing there with a dank, raw smell. (Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human)
I thought, “I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin. (Osamu Dazai, No Longer human)
all of us already carry this experience within us. at some point, each of us has said through tears:"i am suffering because of a love that is unworthy." we suffer because we feel that we give more than we receive. we suffer because our love is not accepted. we suffer because we cannot impose our own rules and expcetations. yet in the end, we suffer for no truly justified reason, because every love already contains within it the seed of our own growth. the more deeply and passionately we love, the closer we come to experiencing the soul. those who are truly enlighted, whose souls have been illuminated by love, are able to overcome all the barriers and constraints of their age. they can sing, laugh and raise their prayers; they can dance and share what Saint Paul called "holy madness." they are filled with joy, for those who are in love conquerthe world and do not fear failure. true love is anact of complete self-giving.
it turns out that some sorrows do not cry out loudly, nor do they appear in tears or lamentations. it turns out that everyone carries abysses within their heart, so that even if they wake up and smile every day, their soul may have already leapt into those hidden chasms deep inside, long before anyone notices.
I love people more than i love myself.
When I look into the mirror, I see the corpse of a child long dead. The person staring back at me feels unfamiliar, like a stranger wearing my face. There is nothing left except regret and a longing for something I was never given. Life slipped through my hands like a passing shadow, yet the pain still lingers within. When I look back on the past, I find no genuine happiness, nothing that resembles the warmth a human being deserves. I see only a soul alone with its thoughts, condemned to a lifetime of solitude.
this site was born from deepest hell