happing fucking birthday to me

Im 26 today. Every day i live is another day i pray to die. How fucked up is that. I keep praying to god that he’ll just take me his own way. Car accident. Heart attack. Allergic reaction. The flu. Some crazy disease. Cancer. Being hit by a car. Even kidnapping, I dont really care anymore. Ive already been raped… Rape and murder would be better than this shit. I just dont want to get to the point where i have to do it myself. Why cant i just accidentally take the wrong step going up the stairs and, bam, thats all she wrote. Its crazy really… i visit the colosseum today, the vatican the day before yesterday, im enjoying such a lovely trip in italy, and yet still… theres this crazy ***** in the back of my mind saying “FUCK YOU *****, WHY ARE YOU ENJOYING YOUR LIFE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE HAPPY!” I feel guilty every time i have a positive or happy thought. I dont deserve any of this. I dont. I cant describe it but i just dont. Ive been clean for over a year and no changes i have made has made me think any better of myself. It like i just got myself back to where i was before i “fell off” so i dont deserve any applause or congrats… i am not any further than i was when i was 23. Its pathetic. I should be so much further. And in the grand scheme of things, i have life so fucking good. Look at the Romans, how they were living their lives 2,000 years ago… The poor always terrified of dying, just because of their status… the Gladiators going to fight knowing that there’s a 50/50 chance their going to die…. King Herod went around killing all the children under the age of 2 looking for Jesus himself and devastating the lives of families and (most of all) the mothers of these poor babies… and I think i have a right to ***** about ANYTHING?! And somehow, this makes the suicidal thoughts all the more prominent. I just want my son home. I want his father to die for taking him from me (not really.. but you know) And at the tail end of all my fucked up thoughts, i just want to die myself so thinking so negatively. For being such a horrible person. For all the bad decisions that ive made. It doesnt matter what ive done to try and fix and make up for the life ive fucked up… When i face St.Peter at the gates of heaven, he will look at me and laugh. Rape and abuse is no excuse for dealing drugs, lying, and stealing when i was high.. I decided to get high. My sobriety makes no difference. What is done is done. Id just rather meet him now and hope that he lets me stay in purgatory rather than sending me straight to hell. Might as well get it over with.