(no subject)

there really is a before and after you after experiencing parental death, and to think my first experience of that was at just four years old... i’m a bitter person now. it’s hard not to fall into a “victim complex” and feel like the world has cursed you. why me? what have i done to deserve any of this?

halloween just made me miserable... i’m a miserable old woman who gets angry at others’ joy and happiness. i have a severe longing to be a kid again, to go trick-or-treating with my dad. going to the neighborhood next to my elementary school, him walking up with us to the door because i was always too nervous to go by myself. making pumpkins with him. decorating. i go on my instagram and it’s just story after story of my older sisters with their own families now, decorating, having fun halloween costumes...and i’m just left with the reminder that i have no one. i have no one to do that with. my parents are dead. i don’t have children myself. i’m alone.

the only thing that kept me sane when his health declined since 2021 was being so extremely delusional and maladaptive daydreaming about moving and getting far away from my brother, preferably to oregon and somehow owning a house ourselves. our home. and i can’t do that anymore. it brings no comfort, because when reality sinks in, when it hits that he won’t be there, i’ll be alone. so what’s even the point of wanting a future? what’s the point of wanting a house to myself when i’ll have no one to enjoy it with? no one to cook dinner with, no one to be there when i’m in need, no one to greet me after work or go on long walks with, no one i can care for. i’ve always thought i had depression since middle school, that’s when i stopped making friends and just shrunk into myself, but at least i still had hope then. i was able to imagine a future and a happy world. now i can’t have that. now i feel so utterly helpless and meaningless it’s laughable to think back on the past and think i was so depressed then.