So it’s come to this. Am I over reacting? Only if I go through with this thought that somehow burrowed its way into my head.
If I killed myself right now.. Drinking bleach, swallowing pills, slitting my wrists or just walking into a bad neighborhood, how would the media see it?
I’m not asking about how I wonder how my family and friends would feel or anything because I already kno they would be angry and sad.. As for perfect stranger, would I be the girl who was “disturbed” or just another victim in the system we’re force to live, aka life?
I know they would wonder why.
Was it the self deprecation that finally took its toll? Or was it the financial issues she couldn’t escape? What about her daddy issues? Surely he could’ve prevented it. What about her boyfriend? How could she do this to him? She’ll never get that interview with Justin beiber, now. Maybe Michael Jackson, or hitler depending on where she goes, but not beiber. She was a weird kid growing up according to her diaries. Maybe spending all that time in her head finally made her twisted mentality snap. What went through her head as she closed her eyes and her final breath escaped her lips?
So why won’t I go through with it?
Well for starters, in the off chance the Christianity was the religion the world should’ve followed, suicide is a sin. I don’t like the idea of being in hell for all of eternity.
Also, as many things to do to make suicide as painless as possible, like just passing out, with my luck I’ll have fucked it up somehow and I’d wake up to the hospital under that suicide watch, and to my heartbroken mom. I can’t..I don’t want to see the sad faces, or worse the disappointed ones because I didn’t do it right. Which would leave everyone around me treating me like glass, avoiding key words that might trigger my depression..that’s not how I want to spend the rest of my life, like on pills too, anti depressants, because eventually, the prescription will run out and I’ll be left alone with my thoughts and the reality of my situation..pass
Well that last one counted as 4 so the last one would be..that I’m the biggest idiot on the face of the fucking earth to still have some kind of hope or shred of optimism. If I were to go to hell, I’d be the one soul who will be waiting to be saved, see the light at the end of the very fiery bleak tunnel. The soul that god discarded because it was defective. That’s me.
Or might be..
Just because I’m too much of a coward to go through with it doesn’t mean these thoughts don’t comfort me, knowing that theres a way out from this, that’s not drugs, but a bit more permanent. That comforts me, the option is there to throw caution to the wind, swallow a bunch of pills or a glass of bleach.
The cowards way out, because apparently I’m a coward for wanting to kill myself, and a coward for not going through with it. I can’t win in this world, maybe I’ll win in a few lifetimes.
Which actually brings me to another reason as to why I won’t kill myself. What if the religion that had it right was actually Buddhism, with the reincarnations and stuff. I don’t wana end up toiler paper or a mosquito.. I just want a good life. Is that so much to fucking ask?!
These sleeping pills were supposed to kick in by now.. Just another thing gone wrong in my life.
Writing is a bit therapeutic. I’ve had major anxiety and mild cases of depression since I was in second grade, around the time I discovered I wanted to be a writer. Not that it matters, the only connection between the two was that it made me feel better, going off in my Lisa frank diary…
I just want one person to give me a hug until I stop sobbing. You would think that would be my boyfriend but he’s got his own issues to deal with, and I’d feel like a burden.
Will anyone tell me I’m not alone, I’m not crazy for thinking this way, I’m not disturbed or weird for constantly crying myself to sleep or wishing I was someone else somewhere else, living in total denial..
Or someone can kill me right now to shut me up. Put me out of my misery. End. It. All.