Death Is Only Selfish to the Living

I find no join in life, no hope for the future.  Loneliness is all I’ve ever known.  I don’t know who I am, I live vicariously through others as if I’d made a conscious decision to die within myself.  My soul is weary and my flesh is weak.  The odds have never been in my favor.  The thought of living another day pains me.  Death seems so peaceful.