Each morning I wake up wondering ‘why?’. Why am I doing this to myself? Why aren’t I killing myself? Why shouldn’t I end it?
I don’t have a meaningful life, and I can’t see a way to build one. I’m in persistent discomfort. I’m mostly anxious, or lonely, or despairing. I’m an irredeemable person. And things are only likely to get worse.
How bad do things have to get before suicide is the only rational choice?
Is it even a choice that’s really open to me?
I wish I could just resolve it, one way or the other. Then at least I could stop worrying about it.
Instead every day I struggle to work out why I’m still alive.