I asked a coworker if things got better. He told me they always do. Though what was I to expect. Him to tell me they don’t?
I have been told things get better for most of my life. Since I was 11 at least. Know what? I’m still at a point where I have to ask that. And I’m still at the point where I don’t believe anyone who says that things get better.
One more week to go. One more week before I’m at peace or I’ve chickened out again. Or I’ve failed at something. Likely it’s more along the lines of failing. That’s the only thing I’m good at. I’m nothing but a failure.
I truly believe this world would be a better place without me. I’m going to go through with it this year. I have to. I can’t do this anymore.
No one knows this time. No one except the few that read this blog. Everyone else thinks things have corrected themselves and I’m happy. That’s no where near true. I just get tired of reliving all the feelings. And people trying to convince me that things get better.
I’ve thought about planning my funeral. Know what? I don’t want one. I don’t want anyone to remember me. I wish I had the little brain thingy from MIB. I would delete my existence from everyone’s memory. I don’t want to be remembered. I want to leave and no one be burdened with ever have known me.
My biggest regret in life right now? That I didn’t go through with this earlier. That I was too stupid to go through it. That I’m still alive.