If we're wishing for alternate histories, I would prefer to have been born somebody else, someone without crippling mental illnesses. If I absolutely have to have existed in the world with the brain I have, I would have liked life to be as short as possible. If I could have been a zygote that didn't implant, that would have been great. That way no one could have gotten attached to me, and it would have been nothing to go back to nonexistence.
The thing is, people actually love me for some reason, and it would really hurt them if I killed myself now. None of this helps me at all, though, because it's like there's a glass barrier between me and other people. I can see the signs of love are there. I don't think they're lying to me when they say they love me. But I can't feel pleasure or warmth from it. If you've ever seen the movie version of Wuthering Heights, there's a scene in the beginning where there's a ghost character standing outside her former house, and she's screaming that she's cold and wants to come in, but she never can. That's what being alive feels like to me. I can watch other people, and kind of go through the motions of interacting with them, but inside I just feel cold and dead. None of their joy in life ever gets inside me.