Well in 2014 I lost the girl I thought would be wife. My fiance. And I let her down… I wasn’t good enough to make her happy and so… She found someone better than me. I don’t blame her. I always knew she would see me for what I really am. Worthless.
Here I am 6 years later looking at the empty space next to me in my bed… Wishing she was still here every night.
I thought she would be different. That maybe this time I would be enough. But it fell apart like always.
At the time, I figured by 30 Id be able to fix what was wrong with me. That gave me 9 years, which seemed so long at the time. I thought surely id be able to find someone who could love me even though I don’t deserve it… or that maybe I would somehow win my fiance back, that id be able to become someone worth her love, someone worth being with… But that was never possible, and every year that number gets smaller. It’s down to 2½ now. 2½ years before I die.
Even if someone COULD love me, I could never let it happen. Everyone who is unfortunate enough to care about me just gets hurt. I dont deserve to be loved. And I don’t deserve to be happy, because the cost of my happiness is making sometime else miserable.
Even if I won my fiance back, or found someone new. I could never let them Marry me. I can’t get this picture out of my head that someday at the end of their lives they’ll look back and regret that they picked me. We only get one shot at life. I’m not worth someone wasting their only chance on me. No one should have to go though that. I’m not a good person and I can’t hurt anyone else.
And so I only have 2½ years left. At best, my 30th birthday will be my last. A party of me hopes I catch and die from covid. From what I understand it’s horrible.. And that’s what I deserve. A way to pay for a small amount of the pain I’ve caused for people who loved me. And then no one will have to know how much I wanted to die or why. I don’t want my family to know what I’ve done to everyone who has ever cared about me.
I deserve this pain. And I deserve the weight of knowing the date of my own death.