I’m a really shitty person. I don’t feel like I’m salvagable at this point. There isn’t a future version of me that should be able to be happy. Some people really should just die, and I feel like I’m one of them.
I don’t want to die. But it feels right, to a part of me. By continuing to live, I’m resisting the recognition of who I really am, and what should happen to me. I’m making the world worse, just by continuing to be in it.
The thought of a world without me in it is appealing, even though I wouldn’t be around to enjoy it. To not be this compromised, contaminated thing, trailing my self-inflicted misery behind me. To submit to my guilt, and stop living this lie. To conform to the emotional truth.