I really want to die.

I’m 37. And I’m an asshole. I’ve hurt people. Because I have fears. My mother was murdered christmas of 1999. My father, who always treated me like I was nothing, died christmas 2006. I always blamed myself for my mother’s death. I should have been there. I also have a severly autistic son, which I also blame myself for. In fact, she tells me all the kids are fucked up because of me. And I lost the one person that I loved more than anything due to me. Nobody else. And I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I’m the problem. Me. Nobody else. The only way it’ll ever get better is to end it. And I’m going to. Today. I don’t want to live anymore knowing how many I’ve hurt. Knowing what I’ve lost. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up and have everyone be better. And I will. Goodbye.