What am I even doing here anymore?

The only reason why I’m still standing (or sitting, as the case may be right now), is because my mom already lost one kid, and it’d kill her to lose both. I saw her go through the first loss, I saw the agony, I can’t do that to her again. I want to, because I don’t want to live anymore – I don’t see a reason beyond my mother to live – but I can’t. Fuck, I wish I could, though. It’s become an obsession. When I drive, I look for walls that I could easily slam my car into with my seat belt off. I think of easy fast ways to go. I think of this constantly. I can’t stop. I’ve got no one. I’ve got nothing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is no way to live.