I feel so hopeless. I really don't think I can live any more. Everyday gets harder, my world grows darker and it only gets worse. I can't find any reason to go on, but I find plenty reasons to just end things. I've been planning this a long time. I've been trying to think of reasons to hold on, to find some sense of hope, but all hope has diminished from my life.
Everyday I'm just dragging my feet. I have no motivation whatsoever, I feel empty and drained. I can't talk to anyone about it. I have no one I'm close to. My mom freaks out if someone says they have a headache, this would make her explode. My family don't understand, anything anyone tells them in confidence becomes the subject of gossip and they can be rather judgmental. I have no friends. I'm alone. Always have been and the more I think about my future the more I realize I'll be even more alone as I get older.
I'm tried of people saying things will get better. When? I've been hearing that my entire life. Things aren't so bad. They could be worse. True enough, but that doesn't help me. It doesn't stop the negative voice in my head. It doesn't stop the depression and anxiety or self hatred. It only makes things worse.
I can't get a job, no matter how hard I tried, so I've just given up. I can't make a single friend, I'll always be friendless. I can't speak my mind, I can't admit how I'm hurting. I'm nothing to no one. I'm tired of being my moms burden. I'm too damn old to have to rely on her for everything. I had being any kind of burden to anyone that's why I don't weigh people down with my problems. They have their own and they wouldn't understand mine anyway. I'm nothing to anyone. The only time anyone I know calls me is if they need something from me, or to ask me to babysit while they go out and have fun. Story of my dull existence.
I'm just tired of all the crying, and misery and I've made up my mind. There are seven billion people in the world, what does it matter if there is one less. I'm not important. No one will really miss me because they never knew the real me, not that the real me was anything special. I'm worthless. I have achieved nothing in my life. I don't even know how to be happy, or live, so what's the point in going on? I'm a waste of space.
I'm unmotivated, and lazy and stupid and dull, and I've never done a thing to deserve happiness, or love or anything but what I already have now.
I know no one wants to read stuff like this on here, it helps no one. I know I sound pathetic, and like I'm just complaining. I'm not looking for sympathy or pity or attention or even understanding. I'm just trying to get all of this heaviness out of my head, since it's too hard for me to speak these words out loud to anyone. Writing them out is better than speaking. I don't care if no one cares about this. I'm over it now. I know when and how I'll end it, and it'll be soon enough. I had no say in how I came into this world, but I sure as hell am going to choose how I'll leave it.
- Z
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