To sum things up, I don’t like my life.
By no stretch of the imagination is my life the worst. The hardest, the most miserable. But I still hate living.
My childhood was verbally abusive. I live with the constant guilt of driving a loved one to their death because of my neglect. I was molested in the 7th grade. My friends don’t ever invite me to their social gatherings, though I guess I wouldn’t want to hang around with me either.
My family and myself are in deep shit financially.
In school, I have advanced classes. Did well on the SATs, state tests, the like. But my grades are low, and they’re slipping. They’ve never been high in the first place. My GPA is hardly above a 2. No college would accept me. It’s not like I could afford it, anyway. So, I’m pretty much a failure.
And suppose I am successful. Suppose I’m the straight-A student. The class president, the girl with more than 200 hours of community service. And what could I do, then? Go to college, get married, have kids, have stress, die.
I don’t even want to get married. My boyfriend recently dumped me and he was the only one who cared.
I’ve attempted suicide countless times. My parents even found out one time, and what a joy that was.
Right now, I don’t feel suicidal. I just feel empty. But that’s just the stage prior to being suicidal. I promised him I wouldn’t feel like this ever again. I can’t ascertain that now…he wouldn’t even find out, anyway. I’m slipping back into darkness. And I’m welcoming it with open arms. Someone pop that bottle of wine open.