I Considered Suicide Seriously For The First Time In A Long Time

My head still hurts a little. Whenever I get to that really panicked state of trying to find any possible way out, there’s a certain quality to the panicked head space that I didn’t feel this time around. It’s my thoughts begging me to finally be brave enough and just make this one last decision so I don’t have to make anymore. They are erratic and scared and loud and have this certain panicked feeling to them. I can’t really describe it, but it’s basically me trying to push myself as if I was someone else. Like I’m trying to do this one hard motion or push or something to finally jump. The thing is with this time around, I felt a certain despair or emptiness or calmness as well. Like the fact that I knew that I’ve been here too many times and know that I won’t do it. Like a sort of pitiful resentment about the fact that I’m here again. So instead of the erratic feeling I usually have, I have this emptiness instead. I hate myself so much. I hate how I can’t just be like my peers and excel. How I can’t just put in the effort like everyone else and not be scared. I’m scared that I won’t be anything. That I am nothing. That I am nobody. I think back at things that I accomplished or done and I can’t remember any sort of pride. I can’t ever remember feeling any sort of accomplishment. I can’t remember feeling any sort of happiness about what I’ve done. I can only feel shame and embarrassment and think that I should be better. That I can be better. That I won’t be better. That I’m incapable of being anything. I got in the shower to clean myself up I started to laugh. I couldn’t stop for a solid minute. It felt hollow and unreal, but for some reason I couldn’t stop. Like what I was laughing at wasn’t genuinely funny but I couldn’t help but laugh. I am a quitter and a nobody and a failure. I need to write this down so that I feel well.