I come across as happy but I’m not. Happy = smile on my face = less questions. So I just keep a smile on my face and no one will know, right? That’s the easy solution. Or at least the one that will leave me with less work.
And I have no idea where to go for help. Or even if help is worth it. Going to counseling or getting “help” just means I will struggle with whether or not to live. And honestly I’m not sure that I want someone to plant false hope. I’m tired of feeling better just to feel like crap not long after that. If this is the only thing I have to look forward to, what’s the point? No matter how long I’ll feel better, feeling like this isn’t worth it. I honestly have no idea how to describe it and I suppose if you haven’t been in this spot you wouldn’t understand.
I want to feel the pain… I feel like I deserve it. Like I deserve to not only die, but to die a slow painful death.
I know I’m f’ed up right? I’m ashamed. I fit in no where. At least with dying, the pain would be over and people can get on with their lives and not be around me. I feel like people put up with me because they feel sorry for me. I’m fat and ugly and stupid and awkward. Who would really want to be around me?
I’ve been giving a lot of thought to how I want to do this. I’m back to my old plan. I want to starve myself. Slow painful. And at least I’ll be skinny and pretty for my funeral. My life insurance will pay off the house. Then my husband doesn’t have to work. Samantha would be too young to remember me, so I won’t hurt her. My husband can have my sister. I know he doesn’t want to be with me. Why would anyone want to be with me?
I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of crying. I’m scared and completely alone.