Sometimes I wonder if livings just not for everybody.

I have a pretty vivid memory of being a little five year old and crying to my grandma that I wanted to die. I don’t remember what set me off but I remember her looking at me concerned but like she didn’t know what to do. I guess it must seem confusing when you have to care for a child and don’t understand why they feel so awful. The truth is I don’t know why I feel like trash either grandma, sorry. I can point to things wrong with my life- but there’s a lot of people who went through worse and are pretty happy. I can point to the things I long for but those are all just sorta fantasies. So instead all my life I just feel hollow and pointless. People subtly tell me not to focus on it so much I think but I don’t know how to when it’s the only real emotion I even feel. I think if I had everything I ever wanted I’d still feel like a miserable waste of human life, and it’s brought me to the conclusion that living is just not for everybody- and I’m one of the people it’s not for.