Rambling from a dark place

I don’t know how to go on anymore. I don’t know who I am without the context of someone else. When I’m alone, I hate myself. I don’t want to live feeling this way. I don’t want to be an angry person and I don’t want to hurt other people. It’s the reason why I want to die and the reason why I live. I hate the contradiction. I’m constantly hoping, dreaming that the choice will be taken out of my hands (e.g. hit by a semi, shot in a drive-by, mugged and killed in the street, etc.) because I don’t know what to do.

I’m still going to therapy, but I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere. I think I might be smarter than my therapist because it’s easy for me to get away from subjects that are hard for me and she’s constantly forgetting what she tells me she wants to work on. Maybe she just doesn’t care because I’m not paying as much as other clients. I don’t feel the same trust that I felt with my other therapist and I don’t feel supported–just alone.

I sick of the anxiety, the stress, the fear, the flashbacks. I’m tired of not being able to show affection and being regarded as a cold, callous person when, in reality, I’m very sensitive and I tend to beat myself down when someone doesn’t like me. I just want to be done with all this negativity and I hate that this is who I grew up to be. I hate that I hate. Hate myself and hate my parents. I can never forgive them, but I can never confront them. I’m a coward. If I confront them, there’s no one left to love me.