Lack of Care

When I was in school the only thing I cared about was committing suicide. I waited and trudged on in so much pain every day to finish high school, and finally turn 18, so I could be an adult who is able to make their own decisions and my decision was to commit suicide first thing. I was always invisible in school and hated my classmates. I can’t think of one good memory from my school days except for when I’d get off school, go home, and plan my suicide. Of course like you say, it doesn’t matter at all now. I’m still as miserable as I was then. Sadly I thought I’d get out but I am still here. After graduating high school, I’d sleep up to 20 hours a day with my room pitch black, and that went on for about a year when I found I couldn’t afford my suicide weapon. Where I attempted to crawl out of my hole. I did and I enjoyed it for a while but it was only because I was using drugs. Then of course, some random stranger followed me, and reported me and now I’m just back to square one. Terrified, alone, spiteful, ready to die.