I’m tired of being this. I know I’ve only barely told you that I needed help, a therapist or medicine, that any would do. I didn’t have the heart to tell you exactly why since I didn’t want to be more of a burden than I already am, that doesn’t matter anymore though. Don’t feel bad for making me choose between therapy or that investment of yours. Therapy wasn’t working anyways, it started okay but after a couple of sessions I noticed I couldn’t be open about what has been bothering me for more than four years now.
The chances of me changing or getting better are slim. Even though it hasn’t happend for such a long time, what made me this is permanent. I can’t get rid of these feelings of dirt in my skin, nor can I stop feeling afraid everytime you call him. I became so weak, I used to be able to hold onto simple hopes or the fear of making someone feel upset but now it’s impossible.
This isn’t a sudden choice, I’ve been thinking more seriously about this since the middle of March and not once have I stopped thinking to myself, things will be better once I die. Sucidie wasn’t my first option either, I tried everything else that was in my reach, therapy being the last on the list. I’m sorry that I couldn’t hold on for longer but lasing more time only giving people false hopes of me getting better feels wrong. I knew that things would end like this and yet I still tried.
This was inevitable and with me fucking up every chance for something good, there really is no point for me to stay. I’ll never be enough for anything so things will be better once I’m done and forgotten.
I’m sorry, and I understand if you can’t forgive me for making this choice.