I don’t care

I really just want to kill myself. And I know what you all are thinking: “Oh, don’t kill yourself, there’s so much to live for!” “What will your family think?” “You’re being selfish!” Well, I don’t care. It’s not all about you. Why should I owe it to anyone to keep living if it just makes them happy? What about me? I just have to tough it out no matter what? That sounds selfish to me. Most of the time, I feel like I am wearing a mask when around others. I smile but inside I’m begging for a gun. I don’t give a motherfucking damn what anyone thinks about it because most of them don’t fucking understand what it’s like to truly feel suicidal. They just think it’s selfish no matter what your motives are. Some have tried to hint at me that they still get those feelings but they never actually admit it. I’ve taken everyone’s shit all my life. In the end, I don’t think anyone really stops to think about how their words or actions may affect me, but I’ve been doing that for as long as I can remember. I’m always fucking told I need to work on thinking of other people, but sometimes I think that killing myself is the only way to get them to see how I feel, since they may just assume “Oh she’s just being a teenager” if I don’t. Sure, it’ll be too late to change anything, but what else can I do? I’ve been patient with life enough and whenever I think it’s going alright, it always goes back to being shit. I’ve been through terrible times, and hardly anyone outside of my family was there for me. Eventually, some of my family tried to say that what we went through was not “the same” as what others have gone through. So fucking what!?! Does that mean that it doesn’t matter, or that we don’t need anyone else’s comfort, because it’s not worth it or something? I’ve gone through some things I would consider to be very traumatic. I don’t mean things like physical abuse, but things like loss and verbal abuse. My self esteem was completely affected for the worst because of some of the things people have said to me, family included. My dad found a journal of bad things I wrote about myself based on what people have said to and called me, and showed them to my mom’s counselor, but she said I was just taking things out of context, exactly what my mom wanted to hear. It’s not fair. Sometimes I just think people deserve to learn the hard way by losing me.