I’ve lost someone to suicide. It’s the most enraging experience I’ve been through. There is always that little part of you that can never grieve or get over it, because they chose to end their life. It’s one of the most selfish acts I’ve ever know.
So then, how did I end up thinking about it? First objectively – I don’t want to die, don’t be stupid. I can just understand why some people feel it’s their only way out.
Then, less objectively – I still don’t want to die, per se. I just want to be someone else. I have no idea how I managed to care so little about who I am or what I’m going on to achieve. I’m so unmotivated. I could sit here on my couch for hours and do nothing but watch tv. That’s how energetic I feel.
I feel like a fraud even here – you guys have actual issues to work through. I’m nothing but a whiny ***** who would have a lot more if she just got off her fat arse and actually did something.
All I know is how terrible I feel about myself. Calling myself a stupid b*tch, a c*nting wh*re, the biggest f*cking moron that ever lived… I could go on.
I failed an exam 2 days ago that would have aided my career exponentially. Instead, I can’t believe I ever thought myself smart enough to attempt it, which just goes to show why I can’t pass it. I would be nicer to myself if I had a reason to be, but none have been forthcoming.
I’m sick of failing. Sick of not being able to make things work – my marriage (now divorce), my job…. any man in my life is a complete dropkick loser. luckily I have several to choose from and if I weren’t so guided by my wh*re of a vagina I would probably be a better person about that too.
Ah. I’m not making sense and I’m sorry. Hell, it’s not like anyone would read this….