I want out.

I want out. I no longer want to live. I know this. Why is it so hard to end it? I’ve lost everything and the things I’ve never dealt with have eaten me alive. The only thing I think about is ending it. I wish I had a heart attack that would just take me. Or anything. Something. There is no reason to live, no love, no nothing. And there’s no one to talk to. They’ve all left me. And yet I stay here. Why? Why the fuck do I still breathe? I should be dead. I should have been dead long ago. And I’m still here. And I don’t want to be. I really Don’t.  So many times I’ve thought about crashing my truck into a bridge. Swallowing pills. Walking in front of a train or another truck. One day, I will do it. I will gain the courage to end it all. Because it’s the only way to stop this. Death.