Reasoning and thoughts. I’m still here. Wish I wasn’t.

When I try to justify the point life I consider what I’ll tell my child when they ask why we exist. Not only do I not know the answer, I don’t believe that there is one.
When discussing my own belief in the futility of life people try to remind me of the good things in life.
Try to convince me that there’s always something good.
Occasionally reminding me that my own loss of life would be devastating to those around me.
Carey’s death was devastating to me. It’s devastating every day.
So yes I know how you might feel. Now maybe you might know how I have felt for the last seven years.
And just so you know. I was depressed for the nine years leading up to that.

Consider this. The person that is lost to you, is that a person that you would spend your entire life with? Every spare moment? Could you devote your life to saving theirs? Or at least seeing them through all of their hardships?
If that person you lost is me, then the answer is no. That’s ok. You have other people that you love more. And of course. They’re important, and special, and proved their worth. That person you love unconditionally, would you trade them for me? No. So don’t mourn me. Love the person you love. Just love them more than you already do. They deserve it because they won’t leave you or treat you bad.

Those cries for help aren’t limited to suicide attempts or arm cutting or drunken yellings of “look at me”. They’re in the every day. The mood changes for no reason. The pull back and silence from a good friend. The subtle “ok” then walk away.
It’s not your job to pick up on it. But the signs are there. Don’t feel bad. We were always walking down this path. The end is the only thing that seemed worth walking toward.

Apparently there are eleven places in the heart. I’m done after that. That’s how many have destroyed me or broken me.
Carey never goes on a list.

Can you tell me the difference between being alone and knowing you deserve to be alone? Experience, reflection, understanding.
If we ignore the past we’re doomed to repeat it. How can I, in good conscience, put someone through one of my pasts? I can’t change. Any time I do it evolves in to something worse.
Why won’t you let me die?
Because daily suffering is the price you pay for a life of inflicting.

There’s something better. Really? What? How do I get it? Can I get there without hurting anyone else? Will it last forever? Is it something I can pass on to my kids? Will it undo half a life’s worth of misery and causing others pain? Will it stop my brain telling me the things it does? Will it help the starving children in the war-torn regions of the world? Will it end government corruption? Will it create a sense of empathy in every living creature? Will it prove the existence of god? Or at the very least give me an answer to why humanity should keep trying?
Or is it fleeting experience of self-worth? A cocoon of happiness to shield me from the pains of the world? Is it a painting that will smile back at me, stroke my head and tell me everything will be ok while the rest of the world falls slowly into oblivion?
There are much worse off people than me in the world. I pity them every day.
There are much better off people than me in the world. I pity them every day.
I am depressed. But I do no classify myself as such.
I think the world is a disgusting place.
I believe in some form of god. I do not blame him for anything. “God is a kid with an ant farm”
I only wish to no longer be an ant.