Relateable

My hair started falling out. I almost have a bald spot. I have anemia, vitamin deficiencies. I wish the supplements I take are real pills, that way I can just die without over thinking it. I hate my family so much;what an overrrated satement. I hear this so much, too much. They keep driving me to kill myself, day by day. I feel so alone, but I can’t/don’t want to reach out. I want suicide the easy way and I hate myself for that- man the fuck up.

They (the third party, your conscience, your therapist, your pamphlet, the suicide hotline)say that after suicide, the emotion relief can’t be felt because you can’t feel it when your dead. No, relief is felt on the brink of death and it evolves into a higher form of relief- nothingness. It’s pure bliss when you’re dead, you no longer feel the worry, the stress, the burden on your shoulders and the burden of you on other’s.

Don’t you know that feeling of burden? When you hate yourself for hating someone/something, KNOWING THEY HATE YOU BACK. We all hate each others and ourselves. So, so much. I tell them I need help. They fight me. I tell them I’m about to die. They fight me. I tell them I can’t understand life anymore, and I relate to death. They fight me, but this time, it’s just my temporary station. I no longer fight back. In all other terms, I am dead but for the scientific facts. A corpse breathing, lethargic but sleeping, in a coma, but still awake. I guess I just identify with a zombie. Makes sense when you have no more sense.

You know the Grim Reaper, or Death as a person that comes to get you? No, there is none. There is only yourself and your surrounding. No one is guiding you, except the arguments that people hurl at you. Every capital, caps lock on word they tell you, they mean. You have to unscramble them, but only a little bit. You know when you want to die when you’re just sitting there and your family argues-slaps-yells-throws-screams-you scream-eyes-tight-mouths-curled-leer-bruis-goodby-everythi-can’-dea-wi-th-anym. To you. With you. At you. And when you fight back, 30 minutes, one hour, one life later as the dust settles, your vocal cords are ripped. You are bruised internally- literally and figuratively. Blood pools in your arm, on your shin, across your eyes as you can see nothing but red. And purple, blue, black white.  Your life is sitting next to you. Nagging at you. Philosophizing the pros and cons, but you will never do it- it’s a worthless argument. Because I am a coward, and my life is one too.

I don’t want to encourage anyone- please, go on livIng. Send me your thoughts and negative emotions, and I WILL shoulDer your burden on the way to my grave. Thank you for listenIng to me, and havE a nice day.