Venting given up on life

[Insomniac Butterfly]

I don't know what I'm supposed to even do.
I've completely given up on life.
I really do just stay in a bedroom every single day and cry. It's all I've done for 9 months now.

It hurts to be here.
it hurts to be a burden
it hurts to be in a human body with emotions and thoughts, and not be a person.

I don't want to be alive.
I can't handle this.
why can't the panic stop ever.
I hear even the animals mocking me.

I'm so terrified I'm going to be kicked out of my legal parents' house.
they've tried to kick me out a few times this year, and have been talking about me.
My only hope is lockpicking the gun safe. There's been a pit in my stomach for a while now. I'm dreading this. I'm scared for so many reasons. All I can do is wait for the tools too arrive in the mail.

I'm a psychotic mess to say the least.

I feel so much shame. Just let me hide until I die.

Why aren't my teary eyed prayers ever answered.

my only hope,

a bullet

 

[Insomniac Butterfly]

more of my pointless cries that no one should read.
These are meaningless words all thrown together with no cohesion.

So much is uncertain. I don't know if i'll be able to learn how to pick this lock. Our handgun might not be a high enough calibur, so i'd have to rely on our shotgun.
These guns haven't been fired in 20 years, so i can't even be sure they work.
I know I don't have what it takes to shoot myself.
At least If I can pick the lock, and get either gun to fire, I know no one would be around to save me.
I feel I am just following another dead end because of the novelty of a clear goal for the first time in so long.
I can't express how terrified I am. All I can think about is the bullet entering my throat puncturing ripping shredding my skin tearing my nerves and dismantling my brain. How much of it will I process? Maybe I'll make a mistake, and leave myself to a fate of bleeding out alone in agony.
I don't want to be found. I don't want my legal parents to have to see me anymore.
I'm already a walking corpse. I'm too ashamed to be seen as is.
A burden on society. A leech to my legal parents. An unstable vortex of love and abuse to people who only wanted to be my friend An embarassment to myself.

My story was told. It's been over for so long, the credits played, but the screen just kept on. There are no more scenes or sets to go to. There are no more characters to meet. There are no more lines to say.

My life was a lie, and my death a grim truth.


No matter how many times I say and express this, it isn't enough.

Attention whore.

I need to escape the cyclical charade that is me.