Dukey
Member
- Oct 6, 2025
- 46
I just ordered a full gram of pure powder fentanyl and a shit ton of Xanax, once it arrives and i have all my affairs in order, I'm going to commit.
I've made my decision. There's nothing left to debate. My days are the same shit on repeat mostly just empty with a few useless distractions that do nothing but delay the inevitable. There's no healing, no progress, no "getting better." I'm fucking done.
The only thing that still hits me is my mom. I keep seeing her fall apart when she finds out, that image Breaks my heart. It's the only thing that keeps me alive at this point. But I can't keep dragging myself through this shit. I've reached my breaking point
I was thinking about getting a cat, letting one pick me, not the other way around. Something real, something that actually chooses me for once.
I wanted to leave it for my mom afterward, leaving it at the shelter with instructions and a note, telling them to contact her after I'm gone to come pick up the cat, that way she'd have something alive, something warm, something that carries a bit of me after I'm gone.
At least she'd have that instead of nothing, I hope it will soothe her broken heart, even if just a little.
She's the only one I'm leaving something nice for.
The rest? It's just pure hate and resentment.
I want my end to be something my ex can't dodge, can't ignore, can't pretend never happened. He played a big part in getting me to this point. I met him when i was already at my lowest. I opened myself up completely, dropped every wall, every defense, and he threw me away like trash.
He knew everything about me. My past. My depression. The shit I went through. And he still walked away without a sliver of empathy. I begged. I fucking begged. And he didn't care. Not even a little bit.
He lit me up, made me feel alive again, then ripped it all away. It was like giving a blind person sight just long enough for them to fall in love with colors, and then gouging the world back into black.
He ruined me. He shattered everything I thought I had left. My confidence, my trust, my view on love. And now I'm the one left choking on all this pain, while he gets to move on like nothing ever happened.
I want him to face the fallout. To see the damage he caused. To make him finally feel something, anything instead of that cold fucking indifference he always hides behind. Maybe that makes me a bad person. Maybe it's fucked up. I genuinely don't care anymore.
All of this could've been avoided with a single honest conversation. One shred of humanity. One moment where he wasn't a selfish, empty piece of shit. But he gave me nothing. So why should I give him anything now?
I'm going to park in front of his house at night, somewhere inconspicuous.
And overdose in my car.
So that the last thing he sees is my windows being smashed in, and my lifeless body being carried away by paramedics.
So that everytime he leaves his house or comes back home he will be reminded of me. Everytime he looks out his window he will look at the spot where i died.
I hope his fucking consciousness eats him alive.
I've made my decision. There's nothing left to debate. My days are the same shit on repeat mostly just empty with a few useless distractions that do nothing but delay the inevitable. There's no healing, no progress, no "getting better." I'm fucking done.
The only thing that still hits me is my mom. I keep seeing her fall apart when she finds out, that image Breaks my heart. It's the only thing that keeps me alive at this point. But I can't keep dragging myself through this shit. I've reached my breaking point
I was thinking about getting a cat, letting one pick me, not the other way around. Something real, something that actually chooses me for once.
I wanted to leave it for my mom afterward, leaving it at the shelter with instructions and a note, telling them to contact her after I'm gone to come pick up the cat, that way she'd have something alive, something warm, something that carries a bit of me after I'm gone.
At least she'd have that instead of nothing, I hope it will soothe her broken heart, even if just a little.
She's the only one I'm leaving something nice for.
The rest? It's just pure hate and resentment.
I want my end to be something my ex can't dodge, can't ignore, can't pretend never happened. He played a big part in getting me to this point. I met him when i was already at my lowest. I opened myself up completely, dropped every wall, every defense, and he threw me away like trash.
He knew everything about me. My past. My depression. The shit I went through. And he still walked away without a sliver of empathy. I begged. I fucking begged. And he didn't care. Not even a little bit.
He lit me up, made me feel alive again, then ripped it all away. It was like giving a blind person sight just long enough for them to fall in love with colors, and then gouging the world back into black.
He ruined me. He shattered everything I thought I had left. My confidence, my trust, my view on love. And now I'm the one left choking on all this pain, while he gets to move on like nothing ever happened.
I want him to face the fallout. To see the damage he caused. To make him finally feel something, anything instead of that cold fucking indifference he always hides behind. Maybe that makes me a bad person. Maybe it's fucked up. I genuinely don't care anymore.
All of this could've been avoided with a single honest conversation. One shred of humanity. One moment where he wasn't a selfish, empty piece of shit. But he gave me nothing. So why should I give him anything now?
I'm going to park in front of his house at night, somewhere inconspicuous.
And overdose in my car.
So that the last thing he sees is my windows being smashed in, and my lifeless body being carried away by paramedics.
So that everytime he leaves his house or comes back home he will be reminded of me. Everytime he looks out his window he will look at the spot where i died.
I hope his fucking consciousness eats him alive.
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