February 20th, 2010by vkay
There was a time in my life when I wasn’t such a pathetic loser… a point in time where I was happy and had no real worries about anything. I was blissfully oblivious of the fact that other kids were making fun of me because of my immense weight. I have always struggled with my weight, and right now I’m about 185 lbs, give or take.
I want to commit suicide because I can’t stand being here anymore. Nobody loves me. Nobody cares about me, besides my family, but they don’t count. They’ve known me for all 19 years of my miserable existence, and sure they would be sad if I killed myself, but honestly their opinions don’t matter to me. I want someone who’s outside of my family to care about me… Someone who didn’t change my diapers.
I have no friends, no job, no lover… I sit around at home all day, smoke weed, and try to make my life interesting. Whenever I text someone “Do you want to hang out?” they either usually don’t reply or reply with an excuse as to why they can’t. I thought maybe they were legitimately busy, but it turns out they were just avoiding me. Everyone avoids me. If it’s not on purpose, it’s because I’m invisible to them. I am a worthless human being and don’t deserve to live… I have a few years yet, but I’ve figured it’s the only way to do it without possibly failing. When I turn 21 I am going to buy a handgun and shoot myself in the head.
After all, nobody cares about me. I’m nothing but a waste of space. I deserve to die, for how mean I have repeatedly acted in the past.
I’m excited, but a part of me is unhappy because I basically have to wait a whole other two years in order to buy a handgun. I know I can legally buy a shotgun now, but I’m not sure how big the shell has to be in order for it to effectively end your life. I’m afraid I might mess up and end up with my face blown off, instead of being dead like I want to be. I could hang myself from my ceiling fan, but I’m afraid that the weight of me would be too much and cause the fan to fall on top of me, crippling me rather than ending my life. I’m also afraid that the fan isn’t that high, and instead of breaking my neck, I’ll just strangle myself and get brain damage.
I don’t want to go on living anymore. It’s too difficult to get anything right. I’ve always been a failure, and I will continue to be a failure for the rest of my life if I don’t end it right now.
I wish I could have killed myself when I was in Atlanta. It would have been a good end.