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Why find a reason to live anymore?

by fuckitokay

My family is rather.. unique. They all know who they want to be and why and where they’re planning on going. I have no idea what I want to do. I know I will always be the odd man out, but there’s something in me that believes I can fit in. That I do have a place.

Now, I might sound crazy here, but there are these dark voices in my head. They always shout mean things at me, telling me how worthless and pathetic I am. And I don’t fight them. I know they’re right. I have cut myself numerous times, and the pain is the only thing that stops them. Now that I’ve been clean for a few months, they’re back and with a stronger force than I remembered.

They will always be spiteful and not care about the words they say. That’s what they want. And I listen to them because sadly, they’re the only ones who will tell me the truth. They’re the only ones who’ll tell me that I’m stupid when I am. They’re the only ones who will tell me I look horrendous when I do. They’re the only ones who tell me my worth and what I deserve, because I deserve the pain I cause by existing and I am worth nothing.

I want to die.

There, I said it. I want to die because what’s the point of living a life that only seems to drag me down? I hear all the time about families that hurt tremendously after the loss of a loved one due to suicide, but my family is different. They’ll find a way to cope. They always do when tragedy strikes.

And I know I’ll be just another person who had somewhat good memories and did some good things, but there are more bad things in my life that I’ve done then good.

So yeah, I want to die. And that’s because that’s all I’m meant for.

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MicroCosm 8/11/2015 - 3:14 am

I have no empathy for the cutting aspect, but the nagging feeling of deserving to always be in pain sounds familiar. I haven’t outgrown my own ideation for suicide, I still dance with it at moments when I have no faith in mankind. As for your dysfunctional family, I can speak to that. We all have our sad, sad stories. It’s really not a competition as to whose story is more sad. What should come from your sad, sad story is the fact that you have lived through it, and have outsmarted death during the trying times. We will all succumb to death at some point, of which none of us know when or how, or blah blah blah.

The almighty wise ones, who don’t deal with suicidal ideation, suggest that helping others that suffer from it, will somehow help one’s self out of its motivating factors. We will, of course, speak with much more conviction, we will speak with an empathy unheard of amongst the haughty, and those that take their lives for granted. I think we culminate a healthier respect for our lives than those who risk their egos. I have no statistics to support that claim, but, I can say for my own self, I do value those that are in my strong circle of friends, but don’t plague them with my ideas of offing myself, but I am sure my cynicism is thick enough they wonder why I feel that way. I am not here to tell my story to you, but to share with you, that though you have a dysfunctional environment, rest assured that we all have to deal with some type of dysfunction that those that can recognize it, can do whatever they have in their power to get out of it’s ugly grips. I came from a heavily dysfunctional family, and I chose to disassociate myself with them. I hate one way streets, so now, I have defined in my life, that all roads must be built with reciprocity. If you are too young to move out of your home, then just wait it out. Your social awkwardness may never ever leave you. You may be deemed weird by those that cannot take the time to understand you, but should it really matter what they think?

I am not here to steer you away from your thoughts, because, for me, they are a source of comfort, as twisted as that sounds. I would like to see that you see beyond your scenario, and analyze your chances of hope outside of the dysfunctionality. That may seem incredibly difficult, but, I speak for myself, but, I earnestly suspect many people who commit suicide, short of those truly mentally ill, who did not have those faculties available to them, calculate our odds, in our heads. Odds of happiness, odds of meeting someone who will understand us, odds we will connect with anything, even an inanimate object. Calculate your odds of success OUTSIDE of your current situation, and I am sure you will find a glimmer of hope…


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