La Première Entrée de Bullshit

I have countless conversations with myself, and two recurring questions are:
- Why do people insist on helping those who don't need it or aren't prepared to be helped yet?
- Why are people more obsessed with eradicating the coping mechanisms people adopt when they're troubled rather than the causes?

I'll leave it to whoever reads this to answer the first question. Regarding the second question, think of it this way: someone's been diagnosed with major depression, and they're prescribed heavy doses of various antidepressants to restore chemical balance in the mind and to eliminate the symptoms. But ask yourself this: what's caused the person to develop this major depression?

That's one of the major criticisms of the Biological approach to abnormality in Psychology - the use of physical means to 'cure' mental issues attacks the symptoms, but not the causes, and that's what I have observed in countless situations. Rarely do people question the causes to issues, and that's what infuriates me immensely these days.

Now, one may argue that the cure to the cause can contribute furthermore to the cause, thus creating a vicious cycle of miserable destruction. For instance - using myself as an example - I had a lot of issues with people back in my angst-filled days as a thirteen year-old, so I resorted to self-harm. My current psychiatrist tells me that, although people were initially the catalyst to my mental discord, the self-harm gradually contributed to my sanity's decline.

See, everyone seems to be hell-bent on their futile mission to deflect me from resorting to self-destructive means to elevate my 'lows'. What they're too blind to see is that they're becoming another catalyst to my 'lows'. Now, I'm not trying to place all the blame on them - I can see why they're doing this - but what they don't realise is that I'm not at a point where I'm ready to pull away from my various 'addictions', if I must call them that.

But what they've done now is pull the guilt card on me. They tell me 'if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the people who care about you'. I must be honest, I'm a selfish person. Then again, what human being can wholly claim that they're exempt from even the smallest self-indulgence and selfishness? So what other choice do I have? I've adopted a façade, pretending to actually want to stop all this self-destruction, when in reality, I am merely killing myself inside.

I try to maintain that pretence, as I know that I can't be so selfish forever, but sometimes I wonder: what's the point? What's the point of doing something if my heart isn't in it? I want to stop on a compromise between my terms and the terms of others, but that isn't an option anymore. Everyone has banded against me and has drawn the line - either you stop RIGHT NOW, or else.

And people wonder why I want to kill myself so much - ha!

I know I shouldn't laugh about suicide, but when I contemplate my own, I sometimes find it hilarious. It's a bit of a joke really, when I think about it, how easily all of my endless rantings could end, how I could simply put an end to my continuous lies. Believe me, I've tried many a time, but I suppose I was so good at acting that everyone decided that I simply had to come back for a repeat performance.

If I continue writing, I'm going to digress into furthermore nonsensical bullshit, so I'm going to finish here.

Until next time!

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Greetings, one and all!

Hello there, dear reader, and welcome to Dystopiatic - a blog dedicated primarily to all manner of self-destructive behaviour, and secondarily to all other meagre topics that one may feel an irrepressible urge to discuss. A warning, though, and I say this with as much civility as I can muster: if you're susceptible to feeling gravely insulted due to crass jokes, banter, and offhand comments, please get the fuck off my blog. If, however, you're of a much stronger disposition, you're welcome to stay for as long as you please.

My name is Izzi, and I have:
- Been self-harming since I was 13
- Been anorexic/bulimic (I see-saw between the two erratically) since I was 14
- Been experimenting with drugs since I was 14 (but started taking them more since I was just past 15)
- Been diagnosed as multiple forms of crazy in the past, but my current diagnosis is schizophrenic as a result of my apparent 'substance abuse'

Over the years, I've adopted discretion as my shield against the ever-scrutinising eyes of society, but at the heart of it all, I'm basically just a screwy loony venting her (often nonsensical) thoughts via the internet because no one physically around me could bear to hear the torrid tale I have to tell. Plus, I have exceedingly taxing issues with trust, paranoia, blah blah blah!

So, the question is - will you clear off, or bear witness to my sordid (yet utterly honest) tale of self-destruction?

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