End of my rope

I really can’t take it anymore. I have scars everywhere. I can’t bend my arm or my wrist will split open. My girlfriend is gone, my therapist is on her side, my friends are on her side… I know that if the opportunity came for a quick death, I’d take it. I’m scared. If I found a gun or a lot of drugs or anything like that, I know that’d be it for me. My friends said everything is coming together, but it’s really falling apart. I can’t go back to the hospital, but if any of my counselors knows I’m suicidal again I’ll have to go. I’ll fail highschool. I’ll lose everything I have left. My bass, my music, everything. Any friends will leave. It’s just better if I died. That’s all I really want. All anyone wants. To be done with it all. And I’m far past being done with it all. And after 5 attempts, being revived twice, and spending a month in intensive care, I’m still here. Life sucks and I’m done with it.