sometimes, like now for instance, i think about committing suicide. the sweet release of death, not having to face all my problems, and simply not having to struggle any more. but i know that i won’t have the guts to do this, and that’s the sad part. if there were a painless way to die offered to me right this instant, i’m pretty sure i would take it.
and sometimes i just want to tell someone about this, about not wanting to exist anymore but i don’t want them to freak out on me and call the psychiatrists. i can’t even tell my therapist this. i don’t want to tell people about this because i don’t want them to convince me that life is worth living and all that b******* about how i’ll hurt those closest to me. i just want them to acknowledge it and then we can move on.
suicide to me is brave, because i know i’ll never have the guts to do it. suicide to me is admirable, because for once you are putting yourself first instead of living on to please everyone else in your life who probably doesn’t even know about the struggles you’re going through.