Venting I see no point in living

[aliceinmonsterland]

This post is going to be just me venting my feelings. This is the first and probably last time I'll post anything on this site.
I started getting suicidal thoughts at 11. At first they were just out of curiosity. Like, what would happen after I die? What are the last moments before dying like? Is it peaceful or full or dread? Then my thoughts became darker. Whenever my parents would yell at me or I'd get in trouble in school, I would spiral into suicidal ideation and self harm. I thought everyone's lives would be better if I was gone.
I started cutting when I was 11/12. At first, I was doing it with scissors and later with my dad's razor blades. I did it as an attempt to distract myself from the emotional pain I felt at the time. I also did it when I was incredibly angry at someone and wanted to hurt them but couldn't. In response, I hurt myself.
I had a terrible relationship with my dad as long as I knew him. He was very abusive towards my mom, my brother and me. My parents fought all the time. When I was younger I'd ask my mom why her and dad couldn't get a divorce. At least then the shouting would stop.
I started smoking at 15– another coping mechanism I developed. I never and still don't care about the damage cigarettes would cause me. I'm still going to die at the end, so why care?
There were a few times I attempted (or came close to attempting) suicide.
The first time I tried to drown myself in the bathtub when I was 14. I had lost all hope and was feeling so much despair. I felt like the world could do nothing but hurt me. I filled the bathtub with water and took off all my clothes except for my underwear. I got in the bathtub, and that's when I realized– I was a coward. I couldn't do it. I didn't have the courage to drown myself. A loud sob escaped me, a sob of complete despair and misery, then another one, and another one, until I was hysterically crying.
Another time I attempted slitting my wrists. I read somewhere that this method wasn't very succesful, but maybe I didn't want to succeed. Maybe I just wanted my parents to find me like that, in the bathtub with my wrists covered in blood. Maybe then they would realize how I felt and would be nicer to me. However, after they found out, they called me crazy, screamed at me for hours and threatened to send me to a mental hospital.
I know I'm a bad person. I'm manipulative and selfish. I hurt others for my own sake and I have little to no empathy for people.
I rarely cry, and when I do, it's out of frustration.
I just want to give up, because I've Iost all hope in leading a happy life. I've come to terms with the fact I'm going to kill myself one day. I just don't know when. In a few days or in a ten years? I'm not sure. But I know it's bound to happen.

 

[FuneralCry]

The unfortunate reality is that life really is so unnecessarily cruel and it does sound awful what you've been through, it's true that there is no real relief from suffering in this world that is filled with humans who just create more harm. But anyway I wish you the best, to me drowning sounds like such an incredibly difficult method to succeed with as the instinct to survive can prevent one from going through with it.

 

[TheSadStranger]

This post is going to be just me venting my feelings. This is the first and probably last time I'll post anything on this site.
I started getting suicidal thoughts at 11. At first they were just out of curiosity. Like, what would happen after I die? What are the last moments before dying like? Is it peaceful or full or dread? Then my thoughts became darker. Whenever my parents would yell at me or I'd get in trouble in school, I would spiral into suicidal ideation and self harm. I thought everyone's lives would be better if I was gone.
I started cutting when I was 11/12. At first, I was doing it with scissors and later with my dad's razor blades. I did it as an attempt to distract myself from the emotional pain I felt at the time. I also did it when I was incredibly angry at someone and wanted to hurt them but couldn't. In response, I hurt myself.
I had a terrible relationship with my dad as long as I knew him. He was very abusive towards my mom, my brother and me. My parents fought all the time. When I was younger I'd ask my mom why her and dad couldn't get a divorce. At least then the shouting would stop.
I started smoking at 15– another coping mechanism I developed. I never and still don't care about the damage cigarettes would cause me. I'm still going to die at the end, so why care?
There were a few times I attempted (or came close to attempting) suicide.
The first time I tried to drown myself in the bathtub when I was 14. I had lost all hope and was feeling so much despair. I felt like the world could do nothing but hurt me. I filled the bathtub with water and took off all my clothes except for my underwear. I got in the bathtub, and that's when I realized– I was a coward. I couldn't do it. I didn't have the courage to drown myself. A loud sob escaped me, a sob of complete despair and misery, then another one, and another one, until I was hysterically crying.
Another time I attempted slitting my wrists. I read somewhere that this method wasn't very succesful, but maybe I didn't want to succeed. Maybe I just wanted my parents to find me like that, in the bathtub with my wrists covered in blood. Maybe then they would realize how I felt and would be nicer to me. However, after they found out, they called me crazy, screamed at me for hours and threatened to send me to a mental hospital.
I know I'm a bad person. I'm manipulative and selfish. I hurt others for my own sake and I have little to no empathy for people.
I rarely cry, and when I do, it's out of frustration.
I just want to give up, because I've Iost all hope in leading a happy life. I've come to terms with the fact I'm going to kill myself one day. I just don't know when. In a few days or in a ten years? I'm not sure. But I know it's bound to happen.

It's really up to you. I'll spare you my full story, but it's quite sad. I'll just summarize it for you.
I've been abused all of my life and was recently diagnosed with (3C) stage 3 non-small cell lung cancer. I've lost the one reason I decided to live and I'm only remaining off of guilt.

Life and pain have become inseparable for me. It was strange last year being happy. It was an alien feeling to me. I'm back to feeling sad again and it's my fault.

Life can be hell. It's really up to you. Normally I would be more positive, but I've lost the energy to keep my own spirits up let alone others.

I miss being happy and the sad fact is I won't be able to. I was told in January that I had 13 months left, so I now have roughly 9 months left.

I can't tell you if life will get better or not. Life is like a game of poker you have to know "when to hold'em and when to fold'em" . If you stick it out you might win the whole pot or you might lose it all. It's a gamble.

Happiness is a pursuit. It isn't going to fall into your lap you have to chase it.

I just hope whatever you chose to do is a sound minded decision. It's your life and your choice. Just make sure it's a sound minded one.

I hope only the best for you.
Please stay safe