Finding a Reason

by Noise Pollution

I think I’ve made it pretty clear that my writing has been suffering as of late, whether that was through my complaining about it, or just by the lack of written content on the blog lately. I don’t really know what the cause is exactly, but this sea of self-doubt that I’ve been mired in might have something to do with it.

I’ve been wondering what it is exactly that I have to offer other people. I don’t really know what I thought I was offering until now, but I’ve come to the conclusion that it is very little. I think that before I started thinking about this, I was under some sort of delusion that being relatively kind and thoughtful was somehow enough. I don’t really believe that anymore. I have to be more than this. I can’t just be a human being; I need to be an exceptional human being. I need to present some sort of reason for my existence, otherwise I’m just another face in the crowd, doing nothing but being a small part of a bigger picture. Sure, some people will notice when I’m gone, but as it stands now, that bigger picture looks just fine without me.

I think a lot of this type of thinking has stemmed from my desire to be in a relationship again. I’m trying to figure out what exactly I have that other people don’t. I want to know why anyone would choose me over someone else. I’m coming up short. Sure, I can play guitar, but it’s not enough. I’m not enough. I don’t have what people want. If I ever do end up in a relationship again, you can be damn sure that it’s not going to last. The moment anyone I end up with sees an opportunity to be with just about anyone else, they’re going to take it. It really makes all of my past relationships make sense. All I had to offer them was me, and me isn’t really that important. Other people have themselves, and that’s more than enough to take the people I loved from me.

I don’t feel depressed right now. I’m fine, honestly, and things are looking up. I just don’t really see a reason why I exist. I don’t know why anyone would waste their time talking to me, romantically or otherwise. I can’t figure out what it is that makes me special or unique.

It’s really weird, being absolutely suicidal, but not actually feeling sad about anything. This is pretty new to me.