February 17th, 2017by Firefly0204
I’m not one of those people who has spent a lot of time thinking about death, or imagining her own death, or dreaming of it, or wanting it. At least I didn’t think I was. But so much shit has happened in the last few years of my life that I am questioning if I even have a life, or if what I thought was my life is actually an illusion, or maybe a delusion. Because it doesn’t seem like living to me. It seems like persevering, like that’s the most I can hope for. I’m not that old, but I’m already so tired. Even getting out of bed each morning seems like an enormous chore. Life seems to be about endurance, not enjoyment, not fulfillment. I don’t see the point. If someone told me I could go back and undo my birth, I think I might. I really do.
Is that the same as wanting to die? And if so, what does that mean?