As of this moment I am safe. Yes, I was thinking suicide as I wrote this and was planning to, until I got to the end. It’s currently the only thing that’s making me debt killing myself. Trying to relieve some pain but deep down i really do with I could pull the plug to my life.

…

do you ever just want to drop from all reality and not exist anymore.

like this deep desire to just die but you can’t.

you have people telling you that you could reach out to them at any given moment, but you feel even that is too much.

You understand what it is to have to deal with something and try hard to not burden anyone else with your own plan.

You feel like you’re already a bother to them and this is just even more troublesome.

You want so despirely to let them know what’s going on in your head but the words just won’t come out.

Then when you try so hard to speak people give you a weird look, even question why it was so hard to say something so simple.

Like even when you finally get the words out your judge into a corner and made fun of for not being able to speak.

To constantly lie to your therapist because even they don’t seem to understand nor help anymore.

talking to them slowly becomes their show because of how hard it is to form the words “I’m not ok”.

To just tell them how you were suffering throughout everyday and even while you speak in your session.

Become overly frustrated that every therapist always end up talking about themselves and just becomes you just listen.

That’s all you ever do.

Just listen.

You’re not the main character or even an extra.

You’re just there.

You’re the camera that so badly wants the batteries to die.

but someone is always charging you.

Trying so hard to keep you alive.

But deep down you just want everything to end.

You try to avoid forcing a backout, forcing your cells to give out.

But when you drink it’s the only time you stop thinking.

Only time where you lose that control that’s trying to keep you alive.

You become this false happy for just a moment.

Being able to enjoy a blissful moment of what everyone calls living.

But even that has an end and you crash down hard.

It makes you crave another sip.

Just one more sip wouldn’t be too bad.

Before you know it, they’ll be no need for a therapist.

No need for friends and family to keep charging you.

If you’re lucky enough, someone will finally pull that plug and you can look forward to complete nothingness.

Yet everyone around you will say how they don’t understand these feelings.

How they don’t know where this all came from.

How you’re so lucky to live they way you are.

Constantly being thrown about how they suffer and your pain is a lie.

That’s right. Keep telling yourself that as you grow up.

That your pain, the numbness, the complete feeling of loneliness, how empty you truly are, it’s all a lie.

It’s all fake.

It doesn’t matter because you’re not suffering like everyone else.

If that’s the case then you’re not real.

If you’re not real then why on earth are you alive.

Just die already.

Nobody is going to miss you.

As they kept telling you every single time, you came into this world alone you die alone.

Clearly repeating how you shouldn’t care about others.

But it also carries the meaning that no one would ever care about you.

What’s the point then.

Clearly if you shouldn’t care it’s because they were also reminding you that they never cared.

So why bother anyway.

I’m just so sick and done.

 I want to die so damn bad.

But why do I keep trying to live.

I truly don’t have anything holding me back.

My art?

No.

there’s plenty of writers, artists, designers, creative people out in the world.

What’s one less going to do?

I have friends.

They’re ok, but I still feel so alone.

Family?

Maybe.

They always need me to help with something and yet make me feel so trapped and confused.

But if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t care how they felt when I die.

they’ll move on.

I’m not truly needed after all.

I’m a waste of space.

I’m being greedy by breathing someone else’s air.

I’m selfish for having a body that needs food to survive.

But I’ll be heartless for leaving debt behind.

That could be the real reason I’m still alive.

All because I don’t want to trouble my family with paying the bills of my death.