430 days

Another day shot; another day spent wishing I wasn’t alive. I wonder when I’m going to get used to this feeling. Of feeling like if one second from now I die, I would be grateful. The depression is so bad and now my blood pressure is struggling. I just want everything to vanish. I want the house to be finished. I want my boss to treat me with respect, of not having to feel like I’m either not there or always wrong. I’m just plain tired.

I’ve been giving a lot of thinking as to whether or not I want to start back to counseling. I want to talk to someone about the feelings, but am afraid that if I do, that I will be committed. That leaves me one choice, to go to a priest to talk to. Honestly, I don’t want to hear the truth from a religious stand point. I know what I would be told in that regard. Or hell, maybe I don’t know what I want. Maybe I’m just doing this for attention. I feel so lost and confused though. Like a dog that just got dropped off in new surroundings, though nothing is new. The feelings don’t make sense. And I guess that’s my point. I can’t describe what I’m feeling to the rest of the world so that others can say oh, I see your point, but your thinking is wrong because of this or that or whatever. I can’t even figure out how to convey to others what exactly I’m feeling, what exactly is wrong. All I know is something is wrong and I can’t keep going on like this. I am scared but in a way I’m not. In a weird sick way I am ok with what is going on. It means that if I ever get up the nerve, that one day the pain will end.

I have 430 days left until my life insurance will pay for death by suicide. The simple fact I know this sucks. It gives me hope during the dark days, though a lot of times I’m left wondering if I can make it that long. Hope that eventually the pain and suffering will be gone. That I will be at peace.

Some people at work were talking the other day about some pretty girl that had committed suicide; said they couldn’t understand it. You know what, I sure as heck can. I can understand the turmoil and pain that someone would feel that would make ending the feelings seem like a more reasonable choice than continuing on. I know that is messed up, and I guess I’m ok with knowing that I’m that horrible of a person. But you know what, no one would miss me. If I want until that check comes through, my husband wouldn’t mind having all that money. My parents and so called friends don’t keep up with me enough to know what is going on. No one ever emails me just to see how I’m doing. I literally could go months without calling or emailing or texting anyone and no one notice; no one would ask if I was ok, hell even if I was still alive. That is ok though. It makes the decisions I have to make that much easier to carry through. It means I won’t feel like I’m hurting someone or being selfish. It brings a certain eerie peace to everything.

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