Monday, May 4, 2015

Done

I think want to kill myself. It's not because my life is unbearably awful, or because I want attention; I just want to be done.
I want to be done worrying about what other people think of me, I want to be done trying to impress everyone but myself. I want to be done trying to live for others and failing horribly. I want to be done feeling so useless and worthless. I want to be done pitying myself as if I'm really that bad off.
My life is good; parents pay for everything, there's a roof over my head, there's food to eat (whether I choose to eat it or not), a car to drive, and an education to get me an even better life.
But I want to be done.
At this very moment, I feel worthless. Stupid. Useless. Annoying. Shitty. Trapped. Choked.
I'm breathing but I feel like I can't. I'm physically fine, but I feel broken.
Everything I'm doing is wrong. The second I think things are getting better, they fall apart. Shatter. I wish I had the courage to jump from the balcony, head first; crack my skull on the pavement and slowly bleed out before anyone can help me.
Feels like that's the kind of death I deserve. Slowly, and painfully bleeding dry like the people in my life who've bled dry of their love for me.
Am I really that impossible? That terrible? Am I really as stupid as everyone says I am?
I've talked down to people thinking I'm smarter; better. They've told me I'm stupid, ignorant and have no idea what I'm talking about. What if they've been right, every time? What if I'm really just, a completely judgmental, self-righteous, ignorant, idiotic, worthless, ugly bigot with no real purpose in life.
I swear I'm going to talk myself into suicide :) I'm crying as I write this, balling as I read my own thoughts. Even if no one said it, I would still believe these things to be true. Can I just be done?
Done with trying, done with thinking, done with feeling, done with being ... I don't want to die. I just want to be done.
I know people would miss me if I were to die, and be angry if I were to kill myself. I'm not trying to be conceited, I'm just being honest... smart. I don't think the people closest to me would just move on with everything, because people do love me. I just rarely see it. That's probably why I cry when I do. It's so rare, and it catches me by surprise... A good surprise. Someone loves me. If no one else, my mother. I couldn't kill myself. She might die after something like that.
But I don't want to be here anymore. I feel like no one cares. Whether they do or not... honestly, it doesn't matter. I don't feel loved, or cared for.
Maybe I'm just being a baby. Cry cry, no one's here to hold me. Cry cry, no one is trying to talk to me. Cry cry, people are fine without me. I don't really mind. But, I do wish, for once, someone would dig; try.
I could be broken and no one would ever know. They say, "speak up" or "say something". But how to I speak up about something when I know nothing about it. I'd just look stupid.
I have a problem. "What is it?"  I don't know. "Why not?"  I just don't. But something is wrong.
Usually, people look at you like you're stupid at that, or they just leave you alone.
I'm broken. And I don't know how to fix me...
I don't want to die... please help me
I don't want to be done...

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