122 days…
Someone today told me that no one wants to see me gone.
I don’t believe that for one second. I didn’t believe that when I was 11. I don’t believe that now.
What proof do I have? No one tells me that they love me beyond the obligated folks. And I believe family tells me because that is what they are supposed to do. I don’t believe them.
Samantha wouldn’t remember me. It’s better to go through with it while she is younger. Then she won’t remember me. She won’t remember what a failure her mom is. She won’t remember how horrible of a person I am.
I don’t want to be remembered. I’m a horrible person who doesn’t deserve to live. Everyone believes that. They are just too polite to tell me.
I just have to make it to when this baby is born. Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later. Then everyone will just think I had PPD. No one will know the truth about how long I’ve suffered.
No one will put together how horrible of a person I am. No one will care. Actually everyone will care. Their life will be better. No one will miss me. And I can’t blame them. I deserve to feel like this.