I don’t believe in the sun

There is no future for me. I had grand hopes of being a philosopher and filmmaker and poet, but now I have hopes to make it to my 21st birthday alive. Even though there is so much I haven’t done yet, I am ready to die. I don’t see any point in continuing to live. I am a bad person. I am very sorry it had to end like this.

These thoughts are running through my head:

• you will never be anything worthwhile
• you are foolish to delude yourself otherwise
• you will be alone forever
• you are ugly
• things will never get better
• other people’s lives are worse because of you
• you are a disappointment and failure

I wrote down a list of complaints which I was to read to my counselor when I made the appointment a couple days ago, but I never found a proper moment to introduce it. I’m reticent about these sorts of things (suicidal ideation, feelings, etc.). I also feel like the counselor didn’t properly assess my level of suicidality, so’s I left feeling about as awful as I was coming in.

It comes in waves. I think the lunar phases affect my mood, or some other cosmological happenings. That makes sense, right? Like the tide. Mood like the tide–

I don’t want to die!! I want to live, but something inside is trying to kill me.

My parents and brother will be very sad. Also maybe a friend or two when they find out, after a few weeks probably. I wonder what happens to Twitters and stuff of the deceased. Like, I guess they would just continue to exist in cyberspace until the termination of the website or a clearing-out of old unused accounts. Who knows how long that would last.

I feel so desperate. Please, someone–anyone–help me.

None of us know how much longer we have on this earth, but I’ve got an inkling that my time runs out some time this week.

Go with God.