I feel myself slipping

It’s been almost two years since my last attempt, but the feeling of a near-end still lingers on. I’m not going to say nobody loves me because I know they do, I can feel it everyday. Truthfully, I’ve come to terms with these pushing thoughts and yearning urges that I have. Yes, I’m depressed but I believe most of that depression comes from the fact that I can’t die. At least I can’t die by my own hands.

I want to die, I really do but I don’t want to want it. Mainly for the people that care about me. Although I know they care, I don’t exactly care that they care, but I want to. I want to care and so I’m trying to care. I’m trying to keep myself together, keep myself from falling back in. It doesn’t scare me though. It never has. I’ve had these thoughts of suicide since I can remember. My first suicidal attempt was actually at the age of 7. I stopped myself realizing I wasn’t giving myself a chance to see how things played out in this world. In all honesty, my suicidal thoughts started mainly out of curiosity than depression or anything else. But what was once a curious thought turned into my escape.

I have problems like everyone else, and I know I’m perfectly capable of getting through these tough times. It’s all a matter of perspective. Our minds are more powerful than we give them credit for. When I was on my medication I was literally going crazy because naturally I was feeling depressed but I was being forced into feeling excited and enthused which only gave me mixed feelings in the end. My anxiety went through the roof and so then of course they gave me medication for my anxiety as well. And it just went on like that. Pills for pills for pills for pills. It was too much. I wasn’t even dependent on them so I can get out of my depression, I was still miserable, perhaps even more miserable than when I started. I was dependent on them only because people cared about me and I wanted to care. I soon realized that I didn’t need the pills anymore. I’ve never needed them. They were the main cause of my depression escalating as far as it did. My depression and my anxiety rather. I realized this after my last attempt.

I’ve come this far and I would like to keep going but every morning that I wake up crying realizing that I’m still here, I’m still alive and well and healthy makes absolutely no sense to me. I want to die. The reason I started smoking cigarettes is for reassurance that I won’t live for too long. I pray for cancer everyday, for some natural death to bestow upon me so I won’t have to leave the people I love with the guilt and sadness of “I could have done something.”

I think I’ve written enough for now so I’ll write just one more thing. I understand that when it comes to suicide, the odds are usually against you. And I understand that there are other ways to cope with certain situations and problems. I don’t see suicide as a coping mechanism though. In fact, the thought of suicide is one of my problems that I have to somehow cope with. I know I’m not alone, obviously, and I don’t feel alone… I just can’t feel myself anymore.