After my death nobody will know why, the reason the feelings my view my opinions, all that, I guess it’s good in a way. Nobody will understand who I am and how I feel, nobody will after my death.
the urge won’t last, the urge and thoughts won’t continue, I won’t be killing myself, or will I?
i don’t know when will be the time, I don’t know if I can even last another year. They don’t see it, they don’t and I need to recognize that nobody will ever do. INFP is the most idealistic personality and I fucking hate it, I hate holding hope and fantasies, I hate the nostalgia, I hate being able to speak, I hate being able to think. I don’t know how anyone can put up with being human, the limbs are getting numb, i thought I can’t feel another thing again and I was so happy of it.
the words circling around, the thought of never being understood, the dread around the chest. What’s been triggered by a small issue stays a minor problem to them, I’m so ducking selfish, i want them to understand, And it’s fucking more impossible than making a rabbit walk on its two ears. I don’t want to stop being ill, that’s the only way I can pay back for being this piece of shit. But I’m so tired, I can’t function properly, I can’t act normal and I can’t read minds.
i would drop anything I love to die. But I can’t, but I can’t, all that goes on in my mind is the cost of my death, families torn apart, relatives wondering why I ever did it, how I’m too sensitive and a “minor issue” pushed me into killing myself. It’s the guilt of living and self hatred building up more and more for the past 5 years, it’s the memories, tortured by my own head, seeing other people being normal makes me so jealous I want to die, everything results in one, self harming doesn’t help anymore, self deprecating jokes doesn’t make them love me more. I don’t know why you’re automatically attached to your family, all I see and everything I see is visions of me, knocked over by a car on the highway, half hanging on the ceiling, in a room with charcoal burning, bottles of alcohol, falling off of a tower, the thought of my head, cracked like a watermelon, my thought finally being released. I need to drop all the hope, I wish I’m more ill at this point, where I completely lose my mind and would be able to kill myself in the blink of an eye.
i want to stop loving the others and have my heart twisted and stepped on and be portrayed as the victim, I’m fine with people stepping on me, I just never, never did anything.
here comes the self pity, I don’t even know who I am anymore.