I’ve always wondered what would happen after I died. I think no one will miss me. I think that I am so broken and damaged I just cause other people pain. I can’t forget everything that has happened to me and move forward so easily. I just become a burden to others because of how weak I am. I used to be able to hide everything but I am just so tired I can’t bring myself to pretend everything is okay anymore. I am tired of talking to people and trying to fix myself. Sometimes I find myself hoping that I will get stronger, get over everything, and be able to turn my life around. But as I daydream about the better future I could have I just fall further down into darkness. Trying to find some hope is a waste of time, just like I am a waste of space. Some days I feel nothing but pain and I sit and relive every type of abuse and loss. Then others I don’t feel anything, I go completely numb and run through the day without a thought. Maybe that is how other people around me feel. Maybe they think I will be fine just like I once did. But they don’t have to deal with the pain now. Maybe they would have to if I left. Then they would face the fact that the phrases ‘stay strong’ and ‘things will get better in time’ mean nothing when I am in that torturous moment reliving every bad thing that ever happened to me.
I laugh when people say that suicide is selfish. Maybe to some degree I agree with them. I hope everyone feels my pain. I hope they have to cope to get over my death so they know what I go through now to cope with the things i have gone through. I hope they cry at my funeral and blame themselves. Some of them really are part of the problem. I hope my rapists feel even a flash of remorse. I hope I will be able to see my friends that have already passed before I go wherever they hell we do when we leave this world. I am so selfish now! I want to erase everything that happened to me. Not for anyone else, but for me! I selfishly don’t want to deal with my life and everything that continues to drag me down. I drink, cut, use drugs because it helps me forget; screw how it effects everyone else. I am my priority sometimes and then other days I tell myself I don’t matter and I am not worth it. I don’t know if I ever will decide to leave because let me face the fact that I am afraid of death even though I am the one staring it in the face. But I can assure myself that if I ever do it will be because I selfishly want out. When I am done I am done. It is only a matter of time anyway.