Dear Who the fuck ever,
I am so sick of trying for something that feels so futile. I have known from a very young age that I will die by my own hand. And you can call that selfish, but the only reason I am still breathing today is because I don’t want to hurt anyone. I do not want to stick A****** with the stigma of a dead, suicidal sister. I love that little girl more than I have ever loved myself. I love you A****, but A****** comes first. If she were not here I would have been dead by my own hand years ago. I am stuck in this perpetual cycle of hate, shame and guilt. Is this really the experience we are supposed to have as human beings? If it is, I am nailing it. I’m top of my fucking class. Being smart never got me anywhere. And that blame falls on no one except myself. And that is exactly why I feel I have EVERY FUCKING RIGHT to dispose of myself as I see fit. No one else has to feel this pain, shoulder this burden and guilt, live with the knowledge of being a horrible person, except me. I took 10 dollars from my ** year old sister tonight to buy alcohol to numb my pain, to stave off the
yearning for heroin for one more night. I deserve every bad thing that happens to me. I deserve to die. I will be nothing but a burden to her. So what is worse? Leaving her with the stigma of a dead sister, or risking taking advantage of her innocence for my own disgusting selfish needs again? I am everything that is wrong with humanity. I have no desire to hurt or cause pain to anyone, yet I seem to leave people with less than they had before they encountered me. Is the loss of my life really that substantial when I take into account the losses I leave in my wake? If I wasn’t so afraid of causing embarrassment to my family by getting arrested for drug possession, or the fear of getting raped again wasn’t so enormous, I’d be down at somerset in a heartbeat. I may not be the most street smart person, but I live 10 miles from one of the biggest heroin cities in the country. I know where to find my dope. I know where to find works. My demise is at my cowardly fingertips. I truly do not know what is holding me back more; my love for the very few people in my life, or my cowardice. I think that fact in itself makes me worthy of dying a coward’s death. I disgust myself. There would be many greater gifts that could be bestowed upon this earth, but my death certainly would not hurt. How do you live with this knowledge? How do you love and try to build a life with someone with this knowledge? I am a manipulative fraud. I am the example that needs to be set for everyone else who does not want to know this life and this pain. I am not a martyr. I am a disgusting example of the dregs of humanity. This world will be that much more relieved when I cease to breathe.