I used to believe (foolishly) that my life mattered, even though I was aware of some lives being more valuable than others, it’s like this truth was too hurtful to me as a child so I didn’t believe it. But my mother did not love me, as she showed me so many times. I have been loved for my body, for my sex, for the idea of me, but I have never been loved. The reason me being suicidal bothers anyone is their own selfish fear of death. I don’t care. I know James and his mom helped me out of guilt and also cause James wanted to use me. Well I will be dead soon and you will get your basement back so no harm no foul.
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Hey Ray I hope you’re feeling slightly better. Nobody deserves to feel like this. I don’t know what to say that will help. But just know that we’re all here to support you. Keep posting.