Thoughts on suicide

I don’t understand how any of this works. Why do I feel such disdain for society? Why don’t I have drive or motivation to find a career and start a life of my own? I hate where I am now but I hate all other possibilities as well. For me, the only option I can see is purely opting out. But with that comes the intense guilt tripping of suicidal thoughts.

I feel like I’m only here to exist for family members and friends, like knowing I’m alive despite my obvious depression and complete failure in life is somehow better than me saying goodbye and leaving for good. My mother told me that suicide is the most selfish thing a man can do, well I say it’s the other way round, if the person is clearly traumatized and in deep despair every single day, but you won’t let them end it because of the grief it may cause you, then whose really selfish?

My family treat me like some kind of leper, I’ve tried reaching for help but after an hour of consolation it turned to monthly ‘Everything okay?’s. I get the impression I’m the butt-end of jokes from my friends when I’m not around, while everyone else has something they’re working towards and starting a life or career. I think I’m the sick elderly relative that people pity visit every week or fortnight just to cover their backs.

Most nights I go to sleep wishing I won’t wake up. Then every morning I wake up and spend an hour or so reveling in the misery that is the waking life. I’ll put on a brave face for the most part in social situations but when I have to suddenly pop to the bathroom it’s usually because I have the uncontrollable urge to weep.

Escapism seems to work for the most part, and I credit it, along with my dog, as the reason I’m still here. But really, is the desire to see the next Batman blockbuster worth an extra year or so in the monotonous hell?

As for my dog, I can’t bear to leave him for good, but that’s a good decade to wait for him to come with me.

I’ll just bide my time.