A pathetic existence

There is an empty feeling that resides in my soul. I have searched every logical avenue to end this horrible feeling. I have been through hell and back, and as I look back the only reason I kept going was because I had meagre problems to overcome and each time I would succeed I would experience an acute sense of joy. I suffer from anxiety, depression paranoia you name it. Whether or not it was self inflicted from my history of drug abuse, traumatic events or my family history of mental illnesses or the potentiation of all of the above, this feeling is f*cked up. At the moment the parameters in my life are what appears to be acceptable. I use to be a heroin addict (post naltrexone implant) 20kg overweight and self loathing selfish fiend. I’ve been into ICU once, the doctor looked at me and was afraid that his own son could be suffering as I was and he would never know. I never really looked like your typical junkie, a somewhat fresh faced student. With all these flaws to overcome I kept believing that I would reach fulfilment. I am completely off opiates, lost 20kgs and had never looked more beautiful in my entire life. I saw a shrink for my problems and was dismissed as I no longer possessed “thought patterns” of a mentally ill person. So I’ve reached the peak of this dam mountain, then why does this empty fcked up feeling sit there. I envision a gun pointed at my head and the relief I feel as the trigger is released. I’ve done this for 12 years and now at 27 this death order in my thoughts is the only way I cope, that and some breathing techniques. I’ve thought about hanging myself, I’ve tried it but never really found anything high enough to extend myself from, that god awful feeling from all the blood bursting out of your eyeballs forces me to release the noose. I envy the dying, I mourn their loss and wonder if I could take their place. I am a raw sensitive individual, never meant to withstand the emotional climate cascading in  this life. Don’t give me solutions to my non-existent problems as the only problem left to destroy is me. I’ve always believed my death would come at an early age. How I envy those happy souls and wonder if they ever feel angry, sad, empty as I? or whether they ignore the emptiness so that it vanishes. There are so many not ready to go and what a deep injustice I feel that I am. I am petty, resentful, apathetic, jealous the epitome of everything our society rejects, I long for that suicide injection. I feel bad for the man who is madly in love with me. I have no intentions of passing my anguish onto unborn children and no intentions of suppressing these selfish thoughts. Suicide is a difficult act, living is a painfully tedious one -this existence is just one big f*cking mind game I could never really understand how to play.