Feeling burnt out and just completely empty.

It’s late—not even morning, really, since it’s only 3:23 AM—and I’m awake. Not truly awake, though. Not in any deep, spiritual sense. I just feel this constant pull to never wake up again, to stop existing in this void while waiting for some better life or a better chance for a soul that feels fundamentally broken. It’s a struggle between the urge to live and the urge to just end all this suffering and drift off into some unknown place. Somewhere that isn't necessarily better or worse, just unknown. That’s what interests me. Writing this is hard. There's this heavy weight on my chest, pulling me down, yet I never actually hit bottom. I never get to reach that floor where everything finally stops and the pain vanishes. I just keep sinking, feeling weaker every day, while putting on a front for the world. But the reality I show people is a lie; it's just a bad reflection of how I actually am. I don't want to share this realization with anyone else. I’ve come to believe that from the moment we are born, we are sentenced to be our own judge, witness, friend, and enemy. No matter how much people try to push a different version of reality on you just to fool themselves, it doesn't change anything. As I finish this, I'm thinking about the dreams I had during my last detachment from reality. The only reaction they trigger is this exact feeling, which kills my hope that maybe I’m just a sociopath who doesn't care about anyone's feelings, including my own. Sociopaths can't feel this kind of soul-crushing pain. I guess I just hope there comes a day when I'm gone from this world. A day when my drowned soul finally surfaces and can actually breathe again.

wanderingmoose15 said:It’s late—not even morning, really, since it’s only 3:23 AM—and I’m awake. Not truly awake, though. Not in any deep, spiritual sense. I just feel this constant pull to never wake up again, to stop existing in this void while waiting for some better life or a better chance for a soul that feels fundamentally broken. It’s a struggle between the urge to live and the urge to just end all this suffering and drift off into some unknown place. Somewhere that isn't necessarily better or worse, just unknown. That’s what interests me. Writing this is hard. There's this heavy weight on my chest, pulling me down, yet I never actually hit bottom. I never get to reach that floor where everything finally stops and the pain vanishes. I just keep sinking, feeling weaker every day, while putting on a front for the world. But the reality I show people is a lie; it's just a bad reflection of how I actually am. I don't want to share this realization with anyone else. I’ve come to believe that from the moment we are born, we are sentenced to be our own judge, witness, friend, and enemy. No matter how much people try to push a different version of reality on you just to fool themselves, it doesn't change anything. As I finish this, I'm thinking about the dreams I had during my last detachment from reality. The only reaction they trigger is this exact feeling, which kills my hope that maybe I’m just a sociopath who doesn't care about anyone's feelings, including my own. Sociopaths can't feel this kind of soul-crushing pain. I guess I just hope there comes a day when I'm gone from this world. A day when my drowned soul finally surfaces and can actually breathe again.

Heavy stuff🙏

Have you ever tried Prozac or anything like that?

wanderingmoose15 said:It’s late—not even morning, really, since it’s only 3:23 AM—and I’m awake. Not truly awake, though. Not in any deep, spiritual sense. I just feel this constant pull to never wake up again, to stop existing in this void while waiting for some better life or a better chance for a soul that feels fundamentally broken. It’s a struggle between the urge to live and the urge to just end all this suffering and drift off into some unknown place. Somewhere that isn't necessarily better or worse, just unknown. That’s what interests me. Writing this is hard. There's this heavy weight on my chest, pulling me down, yet I never actually hit bottom. I never get to reach that floor where everything finally stops and the pain vanishes. I just keep sinking, feeling weaker every day, while putting on a front for the world. But the reality I show people is a lie; it's just a bad reflection of how I actually am. I don't want to share this realization with anyone else. I’ve come to believe that from the moment we are born, we are sentenced to be our own judge, witness, friend, and enemy. No matter how much people try to push a different version of reality on you just to fool themselves, it doesn't change anything. As I finish this, I'm thinking about the dreams I had during my last detachment from reality. The only reaction they trigger is this exact feeling, which kills my hope that maybe I’m just a sociopath who doesn't care about anyone's feelings, including my own. Sociopaths can't feel this kind of soul-crushing pain. I guess I just hope there comes a day when I'm gone from this world. A day when my drowned soul finally surfaces and can actually breathe again.

There is a profound truth in that. We operate under the persistent illusion that we can outsource our suffering to others, convinced that some savior—be it another person or God—will eventually arrive. But no one comes. And even when they do, we fail to recognize them. We crave depth and character, searching for those qualities in others that we lack within ourselves, only to encounter a void as hollow and agonizing as our own. Yet, we continue to perform this weary circus, forced to smile and play our parts... even though we are tedious, and everyone else is equally tiresome.
We talk too much while having nothing of substance to say. We celebrate too loudly without cause. We pass judgment without any legitimate justification.
We feel the exhaustion, yet we refuse to rest because we are haunted by the fear of missing out. We wait for some grand event to occur, clinging to the hope that something significant is on the horizon. But nothing happens.
The days drift by, indistinguishable from one another, accumulating into a single point in time. Then, with a sudden sense of dread, we look back and realize it feels as though only a moment has passed. In reality, an entire lifetime has slipped through our fingers—a life we didn't truly live—and soon we will simply vanish, leaving no trace that anyone will notice.

@wanderingmoose15

Could you please be more specific about what is bothering you?

You’ve probably got some heavy stuff weighing you down if you’re sitting here expecting this "forum" to provide some kind of magic fix or actual help, so just lay out what's going on with you

wanderingmoose15 said:It’s late—not even morning, really, since it’s only 3:23 AM—and I’m awake. Not truly awake, though. Not in any deep, spiritual sense. I just feel this constant pull to never wake up again, to stop existing in this void while waiting for some better life or a better chance for a soul that feels fundamentally broken. It’s a struggle between the urge to live and the urge to just end all this suffering and drift off into some unknown place. Somewhere that isn't necessarily better or worse, just unknown. That’s what interests me. Writing this is hard. There's this heavy weight on my chest, pulling me down, yet I never actually hit bottom. I never get to reach that floor where everything finally stops and the pain vanishes. I just keep sinking, feeling weaker every day, while putting on a front for the world. But the reality I show people is a lie; it's just a bad reflection of how I actually am. I don't want to share this realization with anyone else. I’ve come to believe that from the moment we are born, we are sentenced to be our own judge, witness, friend, and enemy. No matter how much people try to push a different version of reality on you just to fool themselves, it doesn't change anything. As I finish this, I'm thinking about the dreams I had during my last detachment from reality. The only reaction they trigger is this exact feeling, which kills my hope that maybe I’m just a sociopath who doesn't care about anyone's feelings, including my own. Sociopaths can't feel this kind of soul-crushing pain. I guess I just hope there comes a day when I'm gone from this world. A day when my drowned soul finally surfaces and can actually breathe again.

I hope that day doesn't come too soon, honestly. It'd be a shame if the world lost someone who's actually self-aware this early. That's a rare thing to be proud of. Just try to have some patience. You know what they say, patience is a virtue... 😉 I guess that's just my take

Jacob Mitchell3 said:There is a profound truth in that. We operate under the persistent illusion that we can outsource our suffering to others, convinced that some savior—be it another person or God—will eventually arrive. But no one comes. And even when they do, we fail to recognize them. We crave depth and character, searching for those qualities in others that we lack within ourselves, only to encounter a void as hollow and agonizing as our own. Yet, we continue to perform this weary circus, forced to smile and play our parts... even though we are tedious, and everyone else is equally tiresome.
We talk too much while having nothing of substance to say. We celebrate too loudly without cause. We pass judgment without any legitimate justification.
We feel the exhaustion, yet we refuse to rest because we are haunted by the fear of missing out. We wait for some grand event to occur, clinging to the hope that something significant is on the horizon. But nothing happens.
The days drift by, indistinguishable from one another, accumulating into a single point in time. Then, with a sudden sense of dread, we look back and realize it feels as though only a moment has passed. In reality, an entire lifetime has slipped through our fingers—a life we didn't truly live—and soon we will simply vanish, leaving no trace that anyone will notice.

Thanks for these facts, Jacob Mitchell3. While I was reading this, I found pieces of my own story in every single sentence. I kept wishing what I wrote wasn't the reality of life, because life can be so cruel that it makes me wonder if my own words are lies. But the heart doesn't lie, and this was written from the heart during one of those moments where everything feels hopeless, or at least seems that way. Maybe I’m being a bit vague, but my goal isn't to get help with Prozac or some other stuff, not that I'd mention it. I'm not depressed and I don't have a mental illness. I just wanted to share what I was feeling through my keyboard with people who might think similarly—people reaching for things that don't exist in this dimension at this stage of our existence.

Take a step back and just look at the world around you—maybe you'll find a way to ease that ache🙂
Take me, for instance. I’ve certainly had my fair share of struggles throughout my life... various kinds, really, and they weren't always easy to deal with... but there was always something—some small thing—that acted like a lifeline for me. For me, it was laughter 😁 honestly, sometimes I feel like my face is permanently stuck in a grin, much like a kid who just can't stop giggling all day long... because, no matter how heavy things get, or how bad the situation feels, or how much it hurts... I truly believe it's vital to approach everything with the goal of finding our own sense of peace 🙂
I really hope you start feeling better soon!

We talk way too much without actually having anything worth saying. We get all worked up over nothing, just pure excitement for no reason at all. And then there’s the judging—we pass sentence on everyone else when we don't have a damn bit of justification to do so.
We’re exhausted, but we can't bring ourselves to actually rest because there's this nagging fear that we might miss out on something. We sit around waiting for some big, life-altering moment to finally strike, but the truth is, nothing ever happens.
The days just bleed into one another, piling up until they all collide in one single point in time, and then you look back and it feels like it was just a blink of an eye. In reality, we've spent our entire lives moving through the motions without ever truly living them, and soon enough, we'll just fade away, and honestly, nobody is even going to notice.

😢

Man, just go fishing. I’m being dead serious with you. When you aren't creating anything from the soul, nothing hits harder than the weight of everything else. I know plenty of guys dealing with PTSD who swear by it—they'll tell you that sitting by a river, a lake, or out on the ocean is the one thing truly keeping them afloat.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqAbjHKO5jM
p.s. life only has the meaning we decide to give it.

It’s actually true when you apply it to fishing—take my uncle, for instance. He heads out to the Mississippi River constantly just to hang out with the fish... I mean, his little excursions don't exactly look like the most "normal" hobby to an outsider, but it does wonders for him. It actually helped him get off those pills; he uses that time to let go of all the stress and aggression by just riding his bike out there and sitting in silence by the water for a few hours.🙂

wanderingmoose15 said:Thanks for these facts, Jacob Mitchell3. While I was reading this, I found pieces of my own story in every single sentence. I kept wishing what I wrote wasn't the reality of life, because life can be so cruel that it makes me wonder if my own words are lies. But the heart doesn't lie, and this was written from the heart during one of those moments where everything feels hopeless, or at least seems that way. Maybe I’m being a bit vague, but my goal isn't to get help with Prozac or some other stuff, not that I'd mention it. I'm not depressed and I don't have a mental illness. I just wanted to share what I was feeling through my keyboard with people who might think similarly—people reaching for things that don't exist in this dimension at this stage of our existence.

So, what kind of things are you reaching for—those things that don't exist in this dimension or this phase of our lives?