I have been thinking about dying for some time. The thought of which use to make me panic. Now, when I think of death and disappearing, it is harder for me to be afraid. I want to be able to think about my future and be happy and excited. I know that (from my two previous therapists (four years at first one and one year at second)) I can control my thoughts, but lately it has been me thinking about dying. Consciously or subconsciously, I am not sure. I am sure however, that I don’t want to grow up. I had always felt that I would not make it past eighteen. That feeling had been instilling fear deep in my heart for a while, but now I feel as though that is just what was planned for me.
My father is one of the of the types of parents who feels the intense need to write off my depression and mental health as a hormones or a lack of effort. It hurts knowing my father does not believe that I can be sad. I use to cut, I am only about 3 months clean. I had been doing it since I was in 6th grade and it got worse because my father refused to believe I was doing it for any reason other than attention. The past few days I have had thoughts of cutting so severe that I almost threw myself in front of a car on the way to the bus stop in the morning.
I really just want all of the pain to go away. I shouldn’t think like this but I really just want it all to end. I didn’t ask to be born, I didn’t ask to be depressed. I was a happy kid and looking back on the years of joy hurts more than it should. I have been feeling as though I may not make it another year, that for me this is all there is. I don’t want to live in a world where I am sad and everyone around me is affected by it. I don’t want to live period. Although, some days when I really consider suicide, I think of all the people my death would ruin. Some days it works and other days nothing can stop my overwhelming urge to disintegrate into the earth’s crust.
Some days I have such intense bouts of depression, that as I walk around the halls of my school my body feels like it is just moving by itself. That I am not actually making any progress. It feels like I am 1000 pounds and the more I walk the more I wish I wasn’t. I can’t tell anybody this though, any of this. My father just lost his dog of 15 years two weeks ago, my mother is having a battle of her own and I cannot bring my problems to overshadow hers, my bestfriend and the only person I want to talk to is growing up and getting a job and making plans for her future, and none of my other family is close enough to me. I don’t have a god to pray to because I don’t believe that someone would put people on a planet to watch them suffer and grant them misery every day without mercy. I have nobody and I am nothing.
I may only give myself a few more years or months but I feel as though, maybe for everyone, my dying would be better off. Today is one of the days where I think of my parents and how much they need me here, but tomorrow may not be the same. I have been thinking about how I would do it and I think that to save my parents and friends from finding my body, I would run away and die somewhere far away. Maybe say I was leaving the country and just do it far away from them so they don’t have to find me. I hate that I think like this but there isn’t much fight left in me. I am tired all the time, I don’t find pleasure doing things a majority of the time. I hope I stop hurting soon.