Another day lived; another day I want to die. My birthday is in let’s see about a week. I don’t want to go through with it. Literally. It’s always been really hard for me to get through my birthday. I’ve always wanted to kill myself on my birthday. I know. Morbid. I have tons to live for. Blah. Blah. Blah. I’ve heard it all. AND I don’t believe it. I don’t believe anyone would be upset if I didn’t show up to work tomorrow. I don’t believe anyone would be upset if I didn’t wake up tomorrow. I know people think I’m crazy for believing that, but quite simply, I do. I have no doubt in my mind I’m right about it. Basically no one depends on me to get anything done. No one gives a shit about me. It’s a scary place to be. Left wondering what the point of going on is. Constantly crying myself to sleep. Making sure my husband doesn’t notice me crying. I don’t want questions. I don’t want to be yelled at. I’ve given up on counseling. Even if my mom and sister weren’t living with us, I don’t think I would rely on counseling anymore . Counseling or medications weren’t helping before, why should I think they would help now. I honestly have no reason to live until tomorrow. I think right now the only reason why I don’t is because my husband needs my paycheck to help with remodeling the house. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t be alive right now. The funny, and scary part, is that I find the place I’m in right now peaceful. I find the close to the edge feeling so peaceful, like I’m ok with this. A small part of me is scared, wondering what’s next. But mostly, I just don’t care. I have got to take the chance to end the pain. I know I’m selfish. I’m a horrible person. You don’t have to tell me that. I already KNOW that. I literally can’t live with myself. I see no reason why anyone would want to be around me. I’m alone. And so very scared. Scared of living with the feelings for the rest of my life like this. I once had a friend tell me I needed to make a decision – either live or kill myself- and then stick with it. My decision now would be the same as it was then, and that is to kill myself. I wonder how many people would feel guilty that they didn’t reach out to me. None likely. I wonder how many people would come to my funeral. None likely there either. I seriously want the pain to stop permanently. There is only one sure fire way to ensure that. Truth be told I think if life insurance would cover suicides right now then I would be dead. I have a big enough life insurance that if I died, Erik would be well taken care of. He could get the house fixed up, and just about paid off. The truck paid off, maybe some extra gun parts for him. I want this to happen. I have to keep coverage for a couple of years before they will pay off so I’m stuck here for now. Lonely afraid and hopeless.
I feel like cutting a lot again. But I’m afraid of being yelled at. I long for the release, for the satisfaction of being able to see something physical that hurts. Something to relate the emotional pain to. I know that makes no sense, but trust me, it helps in a sick twisted way.