(I fucked the first thread, someone please delete that.)
I've had no real memories of happiness, as far as I can recall. My first memory was of my mother dragging me in pyjamas, barefoot, across the city to show me the place where my father was having sex with his lover. I recall my mother telling e and my little sister to call dad to her new lover of the week after they divorced. I remember my mother teaching me to distrust everyone else but herself. I remember learning too well; I learned to distrust everybody, including my mother and my little sister.
I was bullied until I was 14. I would end crying mos of the time. My mother would ask me why I was crying, then she would hit me for not telling her why, and then again for not stop crying.
My father tried to choke us out of her by sending her a little money as possible. We had to move over twenty times because we were not able to pay the rent.
I eventually stopped crying for a while.
Still, my sister would try to find everything she could about me, so she could tell my mother, and gain a little recognition on her eyes. She was starving for affection, and if that included sacrificing her brother for it, so be it.
Eventually my mother married the first man stupid enough to fall for her. They had a child, ad he grew to become a psycho. He has tried to poison me twice.
I think I was almost happy when I had my first girlfriend. We were fourteen, and to her was the only one who would listen. To me, she was the only one who I could trust, and love. When I ound out she was bulimic, it became a hell for me, since I was afraid to lose her everyday.
She went to swim drunk to the beach and drowned. We were less than two years together. I was almost sixteen.
I was the best student of my class in high-school. But, most of my time there I spent sleeping or being a truant at the library. I was held back two year despte having excellent grades due to missing so much classes. I made not a single friend there. I cried my girlfriend on silence for a time, then I couldn't cry any-more.
When I graduated from high-school I had no ambitions. I was made to enter a prestigious law school from both my parents. They wanted to be the proud parents of a suesfu lawyer. I did not care. All my teachers and classmates were repulsing to me. So were the classes. So were y family.
I thought tht maybe the best I could do with my life was to become the teacher me and my school classmates never had. Someone who woud not bully their students, someone who would actually give their students a chance at life. My parents did not agree with me and cut me every fund.
I had to work on any thng I could find. I even worked at harvesting tomatoes and watermelons.
I met a musician girl hough internet and we exchanged long mails. Sometimes I had to write them on paper and then send a scanned copy. I had little money to spend it on internet. Eventually we me in person and sarted going out. I ws 22. we broke when I was 25.
At 26 I managed t save enough money to study teaching on my own. I had to move where my mother's since I was unable to pay college and rent a place of my own at the same time. That was the time when my little brother tried to poison me, twice.
Eventually my father heard that I was the best student of my generation, and grew proud. I don't know what he might have been proud of. Anyways, he started helping me with the money for college, and I accepted since my funds ran out sooner than expected.

In college, only five of us actually wanted to be teachers. the rest of the class got into it thinking it would be easy, that they would get and easy job, or any other stupid reason. I bit my tongue and tried to do my best, still.
I got a bad grade at my thesis due to the evaluators not bothering to even reading it (It was painfully obvious, they would ask puzzled and unconvinced about stuff that was carefully explained in the first ten pages). Still, since I got my teahing license, I thought I had somehow made it.
I got employed at a country school. Second grade had a rate of over 50% of students with mental retardations, as all their mother worked handling toxic pesticides, hence physical disablings were common too. Cleft palates, missing limbs, you name it.
Still, I felt empty. No matter how hard I worked, nothing coud be improved. Besides me and another teacher, nobody cared, as long as they got paid by the end of the month. I had tried my best during the second half of my life, I gave it all, and I still felt empty, and being unable to improve anything. I tried to commit suicide almost before the graduation time. I was 32.
Most of the interns at the metal hospital lasted one week, two weeks at most. I was hel dthere over two months. My first pshychologist gave up, since my logical reasoning behing my uicide attemp was pretty sound. The second one just waited for the medications to kick in.
It was not a bad thing, I sill felt lke dying, but I was able to endure it a little more. That was two years ago.
Today, medications seem to haveno effect. I'm taking venlafaxine, quetiapine, conazepam, and zipiclone. Every day gets lnger than the one before it. I've lost all my drive to teach, my drive to live, and I'm passively waiting to die of a cardiac insufficiency. Every day it gets harder to breath. My liver does not work as it should, neither . All the medicatons broke it.
At night I get nightmares I can't remember, but I recorded myself and I scream a lot. I'm looking through the windows as the day get darker, and I wish my life to fade like that. I feel guilty of failing to the kids. They loved me, even if I could not love them back. It still felt god when hey hugged me and greeted me everymorning. It was not happiness, but at east I did not feel as miserable.
I am 34.

i read everything

I did as well.

I wonder how many people have had a painful life like yours, because so many people have existed in the past already. I think that most of their personal worries and pain is no longer remembered by anyone. Even something like WWII is already mostly remembered through entertainment: movies, books and games, rather than through the memories of those who suffered and are still able to tell us about it. Eventually the universe will end and everything will be forgotten, like it never even happened.

I hope you are able to forget now and still have some happy moments.

friend youre not alone i'm living something similar but i'm only 26

It is hard to "forget memories" (unless you become depersonalized) only learn to live with them and forgive those who harmed you

Op here.
It only gets worse. I'm fucked up.

>>7
You'll feel better if you share details, people here will read what you write

Actually, nothing improves. It would be futile.

Don't feel like that. Life is a gift. I'm depressed and then I think:
I have two legs. I can walk wherever I want to. I will walk.

My heart still beats, I hate it.

Start running. Run like hell. Run until you cannot run anymore. It'll numb the pain.

you made plenty with what you had

if you wanted to you could do it again

Op here.
My father died of AIDS related health issues almost two months ago, no wonder given his lifestyle. I felt nothing. As usual.
I was unable to find a job as a teacher this year.I didn't try very hard, since I dn't think I could have made a good job as a teacher in this metal state of utter apathy. I was thinking of trying suicide, but my siblings (I'm the eldest of seven) are already quite shocked with my father's death.
The rest of my family have taken every chance to use his death as an excuse to be drama queens and play the high-school alpha bitch.
I got a cat. She is happy to see me. I like petting her, but that's it. I guess she must be quite the happy cat.

you're not op

What kind of things do you like to do?

Op again.
I could list things I used to enjoy doing. But, I don't enjoy those things any-more. My MGS4 last save is from 2013. I don't play any-more. I don't watch films any-more.
My family has taken the drama-queenery to a new level, and there are feuds including friends of theirs. It is insanely stupid.
I have been unable to visit my youngest brother because of those idiotic quarrels.
The cat seems happier than ever. All she needs is food and company.

Sometimes I wish I could be a cat.
Or just live a cat-like life without worries, that'd be nice.