I’m scared. I sit here and wonder what the point is in living. Sometimes I think my whole purpose of being alive on Earth is just to be watched being tortured by some horrible person in charge of the whole world. No one cares if I live or die. No one cares if I show up to work tomorrow or hell if I wake up alive tomorrow. I want everything to stop so bad. I want life to stop.
I’m tired of being told things will get better – because they won’t. Things will keep on just like they are. Forever. Or at least until I give up. Giving up would be nice. Pain stops. Life stops. But what happens if that isn’t what happens? What happens if things get worse. I keep telling myself the intensity of the feelings will lessen but they haven’t. Everything is so intense and I can’t comprehend them being worse. I can’t keep this up. I can’t deal with the feelings. I can’t deal with life anymore. I have to trust that death will stop everything.
I know I’m a no good wimp, but I can’t do this anymore. The only purpose I seem to serve is being yelled at. I can screw up enough to get yelled at quite well. But when it comes down to it no one seems to really care whether or not I’m around. I matter to no one. No matter how much I try my presence matters none.
My birthday is coming up soon. I really don’t want to live through it. I don’t want to wake up alive on the next day. I want to die that day, preferably not by my own hands. It’s one of the few things I’ve asked God that’s for me. So far I’m still here. I’m still suffering. I’ve given up on wondering when/if life will get better. Now I just want to know when life will end.
I want to cut again. It’s the closest thing to being able to die. The pain from the knife numbs me. It gives me something else to focus on. It punishes me for being so stupid as to not be able to beat the feelings myself. It gives me yet another thing to be yelled at for.
I’m scared and alone and want everything to end.