I really hate being like this. Every second I'm not making myself busy with something else, I'm thinking about killing myself. Most of the time I have faith in myself but that only makes it hurt even more when I come back down to reality. It's like I take the blindfold off and realize what a piece of shit I am. It's not that I've done anything wrong, I don't think. It's more like... why? Why would anyone want to be around me? I can't help but wonder. I don't understand. I can't understand. I've tried. I don't get it. If I met someone like me, I'd hate them. I'd want them to jump in front of a train... which checks out. At least that much is consistent. But otherwise I'm always angry at myself. More like disgusted, I guess. A bunch of contradictions. Of talking and talking and talking and I get sick of myself so quickly... I get sick, I get sick. I'm so full of it. I get sick of listening to myself lie. I don't... actually lie. I just say stuff. I'm always talking. I can't ever stay quiet. I just talk. And I roll with whatever comes out. I don't care about who I am when all I'll ever be is disgusting. It extends beyond my physical appearance... there's something rotten here, and I can't stand it. It's rotten. I'm rotten. I talk so much but I can't put it into words at all. Like... I'm never gonna be a worthy person. Worthy of what, I don't care. I already got started all wrong. I'm all wrong. I'm flesh and bone shoved together carelessly. Disassemble me. Put me back together right. Autopsy table reconstruct me fix me up I can't have it until the end I miss it It's getting harder and harder to act like I don't wanna blow my fucking brains out every other hour. I'm trying to make things, but I'm so hollow it's like I can't put my all into it. There's nothing. Plainly put, there's nothing... there's nothing. When I think of something I want to make, I think about how I'm so full of it. How I'm a fake. Faking what, I don't know. Faking that I know what I'm doing. That I think I'm good enough? That I think anything about me is good? Usually I can at least say that I like the things I make, even if I don't won't can't like myself, but when I think about it really I feel like they're rotten too. Boring. Lame. Mediocre. That's it. That's it. Mediocre. I'm so scared of it. I've never been good at anything but thinking and then tricking others into believing that I'm good enough... mediocre. It's the worst thing I can imagine. Of course. Yeah. I feel like a breath that's been held for years just waiting to exhale. I'm gonna explode. I'll keep holding it in. Not like I have a choice. Breathe in breathe out I can't really talk about it, can I? There's no point. I don't understand what the point would be... when it's about an external situation, I love to complain. It feels nice. An exhale. But when it's something like this, I don't know... talking doesn't help anything. It's almost laughable in a way. I've been in therapy for years but I've never spoken about this. I only found out recently, to be fair, but I'm still not gonna mention it. I just don't see the point. It's not something that's bothering me, it's my being. Me. My own brain. Soul. Whatever... it's not something I can so easily get rid of. Rotten at an existential level, maybe. Inescapable. Final. Fatal. All-encompassing. Omnipotent. Yes. All-powerful. Inescapable. It's unbearable. I know what the answer is. I'd even get to choose. Carbon monoxide. A fire. Hanging. Shotgun. Jump. Slit. Stab. Moving train. Drink. Poison. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. Hanging. I want to I need to I want to I want to I want to I don't know how I'm still going ahh ahhh I'm doing my best right? My mediocre best. I just want to fucking kill myself is that truly so much to ask for? I didn't ask to be born. I didn't want to be me. I didn't want to be at all. I want to be erased. Wouldn't that be nice? Deleted. Gone. Scrubbed. Purged from reality's database. One row less. Free up space for someone that's gonna use it properly... ha ha ahh ahh. I don't know how much longer I can hang on. As long as it takes. To what? I don't know. The timing will never be right. Everyone talks about choosing happiness, prioritizing yourself, but what if you don't like my answer? I've got my fucking answer. Shotgun to the face. I've had it for years. I know the answer. I know. I always know. I'm always right. I'm always right. Don't doubt me. I've got all the answers. I'm all wrong inside, but let me tell you, I'll give you the answer. I'm good. I'm good. I don't need to be told. I'm good. I'm perfect. I'm the best. I'm the smartest person in the room. Lock me inside. Let me sort it out. Yes. Carbon monoxide. Lock me inside. Let me go. Let me out. Give me the answer. I know already. Ahhh. It's gonna feel so good. It's gonna feel so, so fucking good once I finally get it. What I want. What I've wanted. Yes. Yes. Please. Please. Fucking kill me. Delete me. Kill me. Let me do it. Let me die. Let me go out. Let go of me. I don't want to be here. I don't want to keep being myself. Who cares? There's no other choice. There is no other answer. So give me what I want. Why not? Isn't it wrong for me to keep going? I want to hang myself, would it really be so wrong if I did that? Just the fact that I'm still alive should be seen as attention seeking. It's annoying, right? So, kill me. Should I do something wrong? If everyone thought I was bad, would they let go of me? High and mighty hypocritical piece of shit full of myself contradictory know it all dramatic not interesting pretentious mediocre suicidal big headed fucking failure keep hanging on ha ha ha I'll get there someday I know it's gonna be the happiest day of my rotten piece of shit existence yes yes let me die let me die I don't want anything else I'll never achieve anything pull me from the root leave no trace delete me don't you think I'm annoying? I'm annoying, right? Wouldn't it be better if I was gone? So there's no issue. If I'm unbearable and no one wants me around, there's no issue. But I don't know how to get there. Even at this, I'm useless. In theory, "in theory", shut up, shut up, no one wants to hear it. But I've got my answer. Oh, I've HAD my answer. Yes. You'll know my answer. You'll know it when you see it. I'll show you.