The death of hope

I remember a line from the movie “the lives of others” and there was this line about suicide being “the death of hope.”  That’s what I feel like.

I have no hope.  None.  I have no hope that my life is ever going to get better and that I will one day be a happy, content person.  Whatever happiness I’ve ever had in my life has been fleeting.  It’s only ever been when I was with two of my girlfriends.  Both relationships ended when they dumped me at around the two month mark.  I don’t see the point in deluding myself that it will ever get better.  Why should I?  With very few exceptions, most people could give a shit about me.  I don’t ever think I’ll have any thing but shitty, soul sucking jobs, women always sour on me, and I am alone.  Always alone.   Why the fuck should I bother trying?  Why should I when the best I can expect is to be happy for a few weeks every few years?  I should just get it over with.  I feel like I’m cursed to never be really loved.  To be shat on.  To be treated like the pathetic sad bastard I am.

I wish my parents had never had me.  I wish I’d never existed and not have to go through all this pain and suffering.  And if anybody says that pain and suffering are somehow ennobling: Fuck you.  Pain and suffering just is.  It serves no higher purpose.  If it’s all you really know it just kills you by inches and eats at the soul.  I have no reason to live other than the fact that dying would cause my family and a couple other people pain.  That’s the lone reason I haven’t taken my life.  But I will not allow that to stop me for much longer.