How could I ever be doubtful?

I watched some clip someone posted about a person who jumped off the Golden Gate bridge and lived to regret it.
I’m unmoved.
When I’ve made my mind up about something, it’s very hard to change it, because I spend a very long time thinking about something before making a determination.

I don’t want to be alive.
There are some things that do not change.
I can hope, but I don’t see the pain letting up.
Another thing, I hate to hear of this assumption that people who want to die hate themselves.
I’ve never hated myself.
I reached a point where I hated what people were doing to someone I loved. I hated how they treated me. I hated their outright hypocrisy.
I don’t have it in me to say publicly that they might as well have killed me themselves.
I find myself thinking “I would never” a lot.
I would never treat someone like that, much less someone I had said I loved. What do I owe anyone by being alive when I was not given protection when I was in danger, without a home?
I’m just waiting for my opportunity.
There’s nothing here for me.