The things I think of when I'm alone

Almost

I almost succeeded in doing it. I was going to quietly fade away... it was so fucking close. The pain felt so good.

They can't get me a therapist for another month. My car broke down on the way home from the hospital and I'm still waiting to find out how bad that is going to be.

It's just, enough. I don't care about hurting anyone anymore. No one fucking cares how hurt I am...

It doesn't matter. If I express my method they'll just lock me up and put me on bad psychiatric drugs. When the time comes I'm going to quietly go out and do it, screw them and their futile desire for me to stick around.

Stick around for what? This entire situation is lousy, filled with incompetent or non empathetic people. It really doesn't matter which they are.

I am shit. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not fucking smart. I do so much bad shit. I've ruined my life.

What the hell is wrong with me?

What the fuck am I doing here? I feel like a fucking alien to all of these creatures around me. I don't belong among them. I am not meant to be around them. I don't understand them and they don't understand me. I don't deserve to live around them.

They couldn't possibly want to live around a walking civil war. I am going to be the death of me because I'm not SMART enough to figure out how to live. I was a fuck up from the start. I should've killed myself. Then you wouldn't be on here reading this load of bullshit. You'd be reading somebody else's pleas for help, somebody who is actually smart enough to take what you say and fix themselves with it.

I hope I die.

That's been my prayer for years now, seven to be exact. I'm a fucking mistake. I should be dead.

Instead, I'm just a living dumbass. What good is that doing for anyone?