Oh, hell. I’m just a bloody idiot.

I legitimately want to die.
I can’t tell anyone.
They say I’m a good person. That may be true. But I feel like dead weight. I really do not want to talk myself out of this.
I hate the idea of not being able to make a truly positive impact in someone’s life. It feels like the people closest to me find me intolerable.
I feel intolerable. For thinking this at all, I feel it is all the more reason to stop monologuing and go through with it.
I’ve killed myself so many times in my mind.
I don’t know who I am.
Blame it on Fluoxetine. Blame it on PMDD. Being an emotional woman. Growing up in a bad situation (which could have been worse, but still sucked and at times felt like hell relatively). Blame it on not being able to let go of the past completely.
Chastising yourself for stupid things all the time and tiring of it.
Being confusing in general.
It’s not like I cause a lot of problems. Certainly not intentionally.
But I am a problem. I break down, parts that would work fine before are rendered defective by something in my head.
It wouldn’t be half as bad if I were dealing with this all by myself.
When others catch me at the wrong time, it’s like, “Well damn. Now they know something’s not quite right.”
They don’t entirely understand what it is they’re seeing. They just know its off. And I cannot tell them it’s because I am chastising myself to such a harsh degree that I try to encourage myself to kill myself.
I’m not entirely sure why it always comes down to that.
No one has a clue. I do not seem like the suicidal “type”. There really isn’t a “type”. You just do…
I feel useless here. I know that’s not entirely true. But I hate the feeling of being unreliable. Or confusing.
I want to be resourceful. Someone you can count on for even the most obscure things, or at least to be able to understand them.
I’m tired. This cycle is… Always going to be there. It feels like it doesn’t get easier.
How can you convince others to have faith in themselves and do right for others in little ways and evolve when you’re seriously considering offing yourself the majority of the time?
That feeling always lingers there. I feel like a fraud.
There are people I love … So much. Who I want nothing but the best for.
Perhaps I’m selfish for not critically thinking about how one final, fatal action in my life would impact them.
Probably because that would halt you in your tracks. Or, maybe it would give them that grounding realization they need to shoot forward with their lives.
Either way. I don’t want to hinder… Anyone.
I don’t want to talk myself out of this. But I’m sharing this with you because… I know it’s wrong. At least by our reality consensus it’s wrong; we don’t have a clue what’s waiting for us. The same thing that’s already coming anyway?
It’s like traversing down a really long corridor, with a door on either side every step of the way, and one at the end of the hall. No matter what you do, you can’t stop, and you can’t backtrack. And no matter where you go, you will ultimately find yourself at the same destination.
There are reasons for me to stay. Many of them. Many I don’t even know of yet, and will find out if I do stay.
But what do I deserve? Is it even a question of what I deserve anymore? More like, what can I contribute? How can I make a positive difference that’s tangible and lasting?
I know if I really think about it I can find a few answers. But damn it. I don’t want to.
I keep thinking about this. I want to finalize it. I feel… Defective.
I know this is nothing unique. But I strongly desire to drop this skin and move on.
I’m not sure if its a question of “what good am I?” I don’t know what it is.
I don’t want to point my finger and lay the responsibility at anyone else’s feet for how I feel. Or blame pills or a possible chemical imbalance in my brain. A confusing upbringing.
I’m a big believer in willpower.
I love humanity. This world. Existence. The universe. The unknown. Things completely different than me and things that reflect some bit of me.
I love potential. I stymie my own growth so much. Or am I trying to grow to fast? Either way, I’m nothing that impressive. Not nearly as much as some people have made me out to be throughout my life.
“You’re fascinating.”
I’m pretty certain my desire to extinguish myself from existence from time to time pretty much cancels that out.
… And yet I do not think the same of anyone else who wants to die. I don’t like suicide. I really, really care about people. There’s always something that can be done, there’s always something to look forward to.
And there I go thinking. If I do that enough, I may back out of this for sure.
There are people more than worth thinking on it for. I don’t want to devastate them.
I just feel so weird. Alien. It isn’t hard for me to connect with others. I don’t have enemies. I have, however, hurt someone once that I can’t seem to muster up the courage to apologize to, out of fear that they might view my sincere apology as a means of manipulation or trying to get into their life again when I pretty much pushed them out of mine.
I feel… Pretty pathetic.
Oh hell. What am I going to do?