since i fell into the black pit of depression suicide always seemed like an option. well, not anymore. ever since my girlfriend gave birth to our child i feel, morally, that it’s not appropriate for me to kill myself, no matter how low i get.
many times it seems like a mistake, having this child. on one hand, i don’t want him to grow up without a father, on the second hand, i don’t want to be miserable for the rest of my life. i’ve been depressed long enough to know that it won’t go away. it’s who i am.
shit, i can’t even cut myself. maybe i should try, maybe it would open a door. maybe i’ll see that nothing happens if i cut myself once in a while. it’s not necessarily bad. it may even be a good thing, under these circumstances. i’m just scared what my girlfriend would say about this. but fuck, how long can i carry this without relief once in a while? on a philosophical level, i think it’s natural to cut. it’s your body signaling you what it needs. like when she was pregnant she craved milk because her body needed calcium. something like that.
as of now, i feel like i’ve mistaken time after time. having the child, moving with my girlfriend to our own place, not killing myself back when i could. i don’t know what i’m gonna do now. it’s either going back to my parents’ house, living in the streets, or staying here. my financial state is bad. i couldn’t rent a place on my own. but fuck, i don’t know if i wanna leave. just today, five hours ago, i felt so happy to be with her. i don’t know what’s bothering me so much. how is that i feel two opposites at the same time?
truth is, i don’t know what i want besides dying, and pounding my head in the wall.