Why am I still here? I’m not sure. I’m scared of death. Scared of the experience of dying. Scared of my consciousness somehow continuing beyond. Scared of making the wrong choice. Scared of giving up on the possibilities of life. And I don’t want to devastate my family.
But I also don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want to be me. I don’t want my past, my mind, my emotions, my body. What I am should not exist.
Decisions were made, and continue to be made, and it all adds up to where I am now. The problem is me. The faults are mine. But there’s no fixing it. And the mess I’ve made of my life feels unbearable. I hate myself, I hate the world, I hate reality in general. I’m a horrible, hateful person. And it hurts. And I deserve that pain. But I can’t stand it. The sheer loneliness, the lack of hope, the gnawing fear.
If it can’t be fixed, if there’s no peace, then surely better to cease? But I seemingly lack the necessary conviction to take that leap in the dark.
A shot of clarity would be nice. To see the whole thing unobstructed, to know the truth. A little divine revelation. Or just for the fear to leave long enough for me to make a decision.