It's weird to put into words, but I feel like I'm at war with my own mind. It's killing me, and I don't really want that even though I do. Or I'm living with a murderer, but the killer is me so I can't escape.
I don't see it as a liberation, because I don't hate life. I'm not happy or excited about the idea, just very, very sad. I remember enjoying things, and I remember being happy and not having suicidal thoughts. I can recognize that I have a lot to live for, but I can no longer feel or appreciate it. Everything is overshadowed by devastating problems that I can't fix or live with.
I just feel trapped and backed into a corner, but nobody is doing this to me but myself. I can't stop it, though. And I can't find anyone or anything else that can, either.
So yeah, it kind of feels like murder rather than a relief.