So I’ve thought a lot about why my incessant mind always draws me back to ending it.  I’ve been down that thought pattern too many times to know that it accomplishes nothing.  Every time I get to the breaking point, I can’t help but consider my family and those who know me.  They hold my hand back simply by knowing I exist.  I never decide to stay here for myself, but selfishness is so tempting.  To imagine an eternal sleep that never involves the harsh ups and downs that life causes.  That’s why I really do love the “to be or not to be” soliloquy from Hamlet.
I don’t suffer any true traumas that haunt me,  which can make my feelings more confusing to have nothing to blame them on.  I can only assume my pains result from myself.  I think  this way because I’m lazy.  I could face my problems, combat them, and eventually win over them, and be happy.  But that takes effort.  To simply quit, to end it, would vanquish my problems and future ones forever.  I wish I could make myself want the happiness that life provides, but killing myself will always feel like the path of least resistance.  I don’t plan on killing myself, not until I have reached rock bottom and have an excuse to do so.  Otherwise, I’ll just suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.