Tired of trying, wish I had the courage

I’ve had a fairly unsuccessful life, but I never wanted to commit suicide no matter how bad I felt. But four months ago in December, I come off of antidepressants, feeling I don’t need them anymore. I got my ears irrigated with water to remove ear wax by an incompetent doctor. A week later I get an upper respiratory infection and put on antibiotics and steroid drops for my ear. A week after that, I get tinnitus in one ear, which is constant ringing in the ears. At the same time I get interstitial cystitis which is bladder pain and I can no longer eat acidic foods. All this happens in one month.

The next month, I get Eustachian tube dysfunction and tinnitus in the other ear. Since then, the T (short for tinnitus) has constantly changed, spiking for no reason. In March, I try to get a clinical trial drug called AM-101. I had a 60-40 chance of getting the real drug. I got the 40 percent. I didn’t get the real thing. The injections possibly made it worse, since I feel like my hearing goes out sometimes. My TMJ also came back worse than ever, even though I wear protective gear every night. It’s April, and the T is still not gone. There are three sounds in left ear, two in right. Everyday is hell on Earth. I’ve always hated noise and now to have it in my head is the worst thing I can think of. Honestly, I could have dealt with the bladder pain by itself. Also, I was dealing with insurance changes during this time, thanks to crappy Obamacare. Can’t afford the care, can’t afford the fine.

Since getting T I have stopped pursuing my dream of being a voice actor. I must have been a fool to think I could do that. All the equipment I bought was for nothing. The years I spent training are for naught. I should see my name in anime credits by now. I have worked in both retail and corporate, and I hate both. I only wanted to act, but my anxiety always got in the way of that. Anxiety has caused me many physical ailments, but I dealt with them all fine. Now without meds, they all come back to me in one fell swoop. I’ve never been a hard worker. I only worked to get things done, never out of joy or fulfillment.

Now I see no hope. I’m spending hundreds on acupuncture and possibly energy healing, since modern medicine does nothing for T. But there’s little chance that T will go away with this, either. I live with my parents and I’m 26. They are the only reasons I haven’t killed myself. Too bad they don’t hate me. If they did, it’d be easier to ‘pull the trigger’. I know there’s lots of people who love and care about me, my parents even have T but for some reason they can live with it. I don’t get it. I don’t get how you can possibly live with this ailment. I wish it was deadly. I wish the bladder pain would become cancer. I wish for death every single moment I get, hoping that ‘bad luck’ will come fester around me and take me like magic.

Speaking of magic, I already asked healers from around the world to heal me and nothing happened. Amazing, right? I’ve gone that crazy to hire healers to cure me. And now, possibly, I’m asking a third. I’m pathetic, believing in magic, believing that if I ask for a cure or death enough it will come to me. It’s foolish, but modern medicine can’t do anything, so I ask for magic instead.

I look up suicide methods as a hobby now. I have hardly any interest in anything else. I see deaths on the news all the time and I ask, “Why God? Why do you kill people that don’t want to die? Why not take my life instead, since I keep begging for you to do it?” It doesn’t make sense to me.

I’m not the only one with problems, though. My mother has COPD and is getting thin and refuses to stop smoking, so she’s dying slowly herself. Yet she tries to cheer me up. Do you think she’s happy to be dying? My father was in a bike accident and probably won’t be able to ride his bike for a long time, if at all, and his back and other joints bother him too. My grandparents also keep getting sick, and we have to take care of them. My grandfather is depressed but for some reason won’t kill himself, and he has the nerve to lecture me about being unhappy about my problems. I can think of nothing worse than T. Nothing at all. What did my family and I do to deserve all this torture? We are good people. We don’t steal or kill. I was thankful for my life and health. I truly was. Now I hate it all and wish with all my heart that I was dead.

I wrote a suicide note, but have never come close to buying any drugs or a gun, or walking up to the top of a building. I just look up methods and fantasize about doing them. I’m such a coward. I feared death all my life, but now I welcome it, yet I can’t seem to build up the courage to end it. Like, I want to die, but not commit suicide, you know? Like I don’t want to see it coming, like those people that get killed on the news. I want someone to come murder me, or kill me in an accident, or get terminal cancer and not tell my parents about it. That’s why I wanted all that bad luck, that black magic. I just want it all to be over. I hate trying and I hate living. Why does dying have to be so hard, too?