everyday

everyday I plan a new escape route. This window, or that rope? This blade, or the bathtub, maybe? It scares the living shit out of me but it’s the only thing I’m 100% certain about. Death is the only thing that I feel is real. Death is the only thing I can relate too. Death is the only thing I see in my future. It’s the one thing I know I can do, it’s the one thing I know I won’t fuck up. People tell me every day that I’m selfish for wanting to end my life. but it’s pretty fucking selfish to force somebody to stay somewhere to make other people happy. it’s pretty fucking selfish to make something as delicate and serious as suicide all about the people who will miss the person wanting to leave. I’m not asking anyone to mourn, and I’m not asking for permission either.

I’ve tried a few times, and every time I woke up from my failed miserable attempts I would have somebody in my ear.

“you’re so much better than this. everyone is here for you. we love you. please don’t do this. nobody would know what to do without you. ”

its all bullshit. and I refuse to be a part of it anymore.

people talk about how much drive and determination I have and this is the sole thing I am determined to do.