Last Christmas

My last Christmas is complete. This year I feel particularly alone. Like if I wasn’t here, no one would notice. No one would notice me missing. And that’s ok. It makes what is to come easier. It means my death won’t make anyone upset. It means I won’t hurt anyone again.

I’ve started taking my anxiety medicine again. It takes away all anxiety, including the anxiety that comes from dying. So, the anxiety that keeps me alive will be missing. All the times that I haven’t gone through with it, anxiety has been a saviour. Afraid to die, to find out what’s on the other side. However, on the anxiety medicine, suicide is scarily ok. I want that feeling back. I want to go through with it.

It’s bittersweet. I’m finally going to get what I want. But in the process I’ve come to realize just how little my life means. I just wanted to matter to someone. To make someone’s life a little easier to get through. For someone to think of me and wonder how I’m doing out of the blue. But I don’t. And that makes going through with this extremely easy.

I don’t want a funeral. I want to be creamated. I don’t think anyone would come to the funeral anyways. Maybe people who they think they have to but no one because they want to say good bye.

No one knows how much I’m hurting. I can’t show the intensity of it. I don’t want to overwhelm others. I’m so very alone. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of fighting this. I’m just ready to give up.

I have a new counselor. I’ve been to her once. I can tell I’m more of a project to conquer than I am a person with feelings. It’s hard to explain but she’s hard for me to open up to. It’s ok. I don’t want to talk about this anyway. I don’t want someone talking me out of it. I want to go through with it.

I’ve gotten two texts today wishing me Merry Christmas, and one was about as without feeling as you can make Merry Christmas. Typically I go through my list and wish everyone a Merry Christmas. This year I’m not. I’m done. No one wants to hear from me anyways.

I asked a friend to pray for me. I don’t think it will keep me alive. I just want my last couple of weeks to be peaceful.

I’m ready.

I’m sorry.

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