I should have killed myself when I was 18. I’m not good at anything. I hate this world. I hate myself. Nothing good ever happens to me. I can never connect with anyone on any type of level. I go around handicapped by my hatred of living. I have lived my life and nothing has came of it. There’s nothing remarkable about me and I only ever bring my mom disappointment and distress.
I don’t want a pep talk about how great life is. There is no dark cloud hovering over me, this life is simply not for me. Yet, there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no way to disappear so I’m stuck. I’ve tried to make online friends before but it never works out.
I just wish my suffering could end.
Every possible way to kill oneself comes with the risk of ending seriously messed up and worse than one was before. I am not depressed, I just want to die. I fucking hate existing. I have to suffer every fucking day. I feel bad for my mom and her pain but there is no point to my life on this pathetic planet. If there was a god, they’d have some fucking compassion for someone who genuinely needs to escape. Fuck. No one can understand.