Hard to move

Hey, so i’m here sitting on my chair… barely moved all day, I smell, I’m hungry but i don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve that. Food. Life. I am sitting here imagining grabbing the blade from my room, or a knife. yes a knife would cut better. Cuttung my veins, letting my blood spurt around me. I know what i’d think then. “Finally, this is it” then a  breathe of relief and nothingness. Such a heavy feeling, hard to move. Hard to think Of anything but that. The end.