There is not a disturbing enough word to accurately describe how I feel about my life of never ending misery. Well there are a few but most people would just say I'm being dramatic or insane. I'm so desperate lately it's unreal, I just can't get myself to do it. I wish my parents understood and didn't try to talk me out of it. I live in horror and nobody is willing to see the truth, which is, suicide is hardly a harm in my case. It's the lesser of two evils by a long long long shot. I dream of the day my parents are gone so I can die in peace. I don't want them to suffer or die but the pain of being here just for them is so unbearable that I just can't help but feel like the first thing I'll think when I get the news of their individual deaths is how I can finally be at peace.
I've never met anyone in person who has carried around the look of such intense inner torment on their face like I do. Even suicidal people who I've known seem to act like I'm blowing things out of proportion and for this I just can't be around people anymore these days. I mean I almost want to just take some sort of drug so I can feel something less horrific for a few hours but I'm worried of how I'd feel when the high was over. Even something like kratom withdrawals destroyed me many times over to where it felt like putting my hand on a burning stove over and over and I eventually stopped wanting to take it. I just wish suicide only came with the positive aspect of being free and that I could disregard how it would affect others but obviously my parents will be destroyed. They have told me and I already knew either way. My mom has already seen loved ones die in front of her and it's obvious that this would just completely derail my dad's whole life.
Still though, all I can do is fantasize and drift closer to the reality with every passing year. I didn't choose this, life pushed me in this direction despite me trying to fight against the gravity of the situation. Again, I am living in pure psychological horror. Leaving the house is horror, staying inside is horror, eating is miserably impossible, my body is malfunctioning, I'm worried about my teeth rotting, I hate trying to sleep, I'm completely fucking trapped in horror. I just want it to end. The dying process will probably be bad and terrifying no matter what but I just wish I didn't have to have the guilt added on top of it.
Still, as I've tried to fight, a part of me feels like a fucking failure. I know it's the way everyone has related to depression throughout my life. Everyone talks as if they deal with it too and this has lead me to think that I'm just incredibly weak for not being able to fight but there is no rational way this could be the truth. People with normal struggles just think that they can relate. They don't know the pure fucking terror of what my mental illnesses cause for me. I live in absolute terror and anyone who thinks they know terror is extremely incorrect. I'm fucking losing it and I just keep going because I don't want to hurt my parents. I am really really losing it. There is no escape. No fucking escape.
I'm in hell every single day. There is no hope in life for me. My hope is for death. Death is what keeps me going and life is what brings me to my knees. The only positive in my life is the fact that it must end and despite the immense fear I have for what that process will be like, I know that it will be my ticket out of this life of torture.
I've never met anyone in person who has carried around the look of such intense inner torment on their face like I do. Even suicidal people who I've known seem to act like I'm blowing things out of proportion and for this I just can't be around people anymore these days. I mean I almost want to just take some sort of drug so I can feel something less horrific for a few hours but I'm worried of how I'd feel when the high was over. Even something like kratom withdrawals destroyed me many times over to where it felt like putting my hand on a burning stove over and over and I eventually stopped wanting to take it. I just wish suicide only came with the positive aspect of being free and that I could disregard how it would affect others but obviously my parents will be destroyed. They have told me and I already knew either way. My mom has already seen loved ones die in front of her and it's obvious that this would just completely derail my dad's whole life.
Still though, all I can do is fantasize and drift closer to the reality with every passing year. I didn't choose this, life pushed me in this direction despite me trying to fight against the gravity of the situation. Again, I am living in pure psychological horror. Leaving the house is horror, staying inside is horror, eating is miserably impossible, my body is malfunctioning, I'm worried about my teeth rotting, I hate trying to sleep, I'm completely fucking trapped in horror. I just want it to end. The dying process will probably be bad and terrifying no matter what but I just wish I didn't have to have the guilt added on top of it.
Still, as I've tried to fight, a part of me feels like a fucking failure. I know it's the way everyone has related to depression throughout my life. Everyone talks as if they deal with it too and this has lead me to think that I'm just incredibly weak for not being able to fight but there is no rational way this could be the truth. People with normal struggles just think that they can relate. They don't know the pure fucking terror of what my mental illnesses cause for me. I live in absolute terror and anyone who thinks they know terror is extremely incorrect. I'm fucking losing it and I just keep going because I don't want to hurt my parents. I am really really losing it. There is no escape. No fucking escape.
I'm in hell every single day. There is no hope in life for me. My hope is for death. Death is what keeps me going and life is what brings me to my knees. The only positive in my life is the fact that it must end and despite the immense fear I have for what that process will be like, I know that it will be my ticket out of this life of torture.
