I think it’s hilarious I’m still alive.

I’ve always thought it’d be better if I was dead. When I found out I was born dead, as in not breathing and doctors and nurses rushing round because I wasn’t going to make it… it makes me laugh my f**king head off. I’m still here, today. What an achievement.

I don’t remember my first suicidal thought. I remember my last. It was a few seconds ago, as always. I think about it every day, but every day I don’t do a damn thing about it and wake up the next morning just to start over again. I’m pathetic like that. Tomorrow’s never going to get any better than today, it won’t be a little clearer, the sun won’t shine any brighter and I won’t be a damn sight happier. I’ll just be breathing, using up a little more oxygen I’m not grateful for and taking up space. There are people dying all over the world, wishing they could have one more day with the people they love, that they could have one last chance for a do-over or a re-write. And here I sit, laughing my head off, because I’m still here and I don’t give a rat’s ass about it.

I’ve always known I was pathetic. I go through my days hating every moment, but I’m still here. Here because, when I curl up in a ball on the bathroom floor with packets of painkillers and all the razorblades I can find, I’m still breathing.

I wish I wasn’t, but apathy doesn’t get you anywhere, it just reminds you that you’re stuck in the same place, without the ability to change it. I don’t even care about that. I don’t care that I’m alive, I don’t care that I’m not dead.

I hate everything I see. I used to hate all the things I felt, but I don’t feel things anymore. I don’t care. I’ll cry my eyes out just to prove I can still do it, but I don’t care. I’m still breathing, but I don’t care.