It’s one thing to accept the pain, know nearly every moment is excruciating, understand you can’t feel any of the happiness others can. To watch youth crumbling away and know everything you’ve lost. It’d be okay… If it ended. I can’t take the horror of every day with the frustration of thinking I know exactly what’d help me and just waiting for the healthcare I need with no idea when it’s coming or if I’ll last that long. I’m nowhere close to being able to afford it myself. There’s nowhere to go if you get more desperate, you just have to wait your turn. And the problems I’m clueless over how to solve, the ones I never get closer to resolving on my own, there’s no one to help. Nobody who might be able to will try. They reject appointments or try to pass me along as soon as they see my diagnosis. I get it. I feel like I’ve been left to die, but you’re told over and over that you can’t die. I don’t want to cause more pain. But… How do I stop it? Nearly everyone’s forgotten me, but… It’s not enough.
I’m so tired of myself, and of everything revolving around me and my problems. I just want normality. I just want to end. I want to tear myself so far from the world that I never existed at all.