I went out with some friends this evening. Yeah, I know, I'm a lucky bastard, I have friends. Objectively, we had a nice evening. The food was a little slow to arrive and the restaurant was lacking in veggie options, but it was otherwise alright. We went back to one of the guy's houses afterwards and played some games that I sucked at. We had a laugh. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.
I'm still suicidal. Even when things are good, I'm still fucking suicidal. I sat there in someone else's house having a jolly old time with some mates thinking about how I was going to kill myself and how they'd react to my death.
Sometimes experiencing happiness, even if only briefly, brings my attention to how hollow I feel inside. Or it's even worse, I sit in situations where I should be happy, and the happiness never really comes. I am so immensely grateful that I get to experience any joy at all, that I have people who care about me, a warm place to sleep, good food, money, and some family that least tries mostly even if they're a little odd, but I still want to die.
I don't see a point in this life. Despite all the good, my life is one with minimal pleasure and constant pain. I see no point in all of this.
I fill my head with noise because the second the silence returns so do the thoughts about dying. Whenever there is nothing else to fill the space, my brain defaults to suicide. I'm trying to hold out for a surgery in the fall that may improve my quality of life somewhat, but the truth is, my time here is coming to an end.
I've got a method in mind. I know how to achieve it. I'm just procrastinating on the inevitable.
I don't know how much longer I can drag this out. I don't know if I should bother to try.
I'm still suicidal. Even when things are good, I'm still fucking suicidal. I sat there in someone else's house having a jolly old time with some mates thinking about how I was going to kill myself and how they'd react to my death.
Sometimes experiencing happiness, even if only briefly, brings my attention to how hollow I feel inside. Or it's even worse, I sit in situations where I should be happy, and the happiness never really comes. I am so immensely grateful that I get to experience any joy at all, that I have people who care about me, a warm place to sleep, good food, money, and some family that least tries mostly even if they're a little odd, but I still want to die.
I don't see a point in this life. Despite all the good, my life is one with minimal pleasure and constant pain. I see no point in all of this.
I fill my head with noise because the second the silence returns so do the thoughts about dying. Whenever there is nothing else to fill the space, my brain defaults to suicide. I'm trying to hold out for a surgery in the fall that may improve my quality of life somewhat, but the truth is, my time here is coming to an end.
I've got a method in mind. I know how to achieve it. I'm just procrastinating on the inevitable.
I don't know how much longer I can drag this out. I don't know if I should bother to try.
