I chose Loneliness, and "tired of this life".
I have a loving family, who I distance myself from. My parents are nice but I don't feel I can talk to them somehow. I rarely see my extended family (aunts, etc) but they are lovely, smart, and supportive, generous, kind, and willing to talk to me about my shit. Yet, I don't talk to them. I feel embarrassed about who I am, how my mind works. I'm awkward, introverted, and usually want to be on my own. When I do talk to people, I'm quiet, and I don't know what to say, often making faux pas, or saying the wrong thing and making others uncomfortable that they have to talk around my awkward weirdness. So, I despise talking to people and socialising - so I don't. And that makes me incredibly lonely. I'm cantankerous and grumpy, and I'm a boring, void, empty shell of a person with no personality or interests or hobbies. I have a good job that pays well, but I work entirely from home by choice so I don't have to speak to coworkers. I isolate myself and then feel lonely.
I mostly feel that my suicidal feelings are quite invalid compared to others on here. Not that it's a competition, and I don't write this for sympathy or pity. But others have been through trauma, or mental health issues, or abuse, whereas I've had a sheltered and privileged life. I have plenty of money, and a good house and car. But I have nobody, because I intentionally isolate myself and push people away. I make no effort to make new friends, or find a partner, because I know I won't be wanted or appreciated; I have nothing to offer in a friendship. People don't want to be friends with a void empty shell. I feel worthless; a drain on the world's resources, offering nothing in return. I'm not a bad person, but I'm just a leech, quietly *existing*, wanting nothing, achieving nothing, doing nothing.
So my misery is mostly self-inflicted. But I do feel quite trapped in that this is just how my mind works, and I'm resigned that I'll be this way forever.
I can't help but see the valid reasons that people want to end their lives and think that next to them I have so much that I can't - or refuse to - appreciate. I have quite severe depression, and that's not invalid I suppose. But I can't help but hear the other side of the argument - you know, the generic counterarguments such as "if I just made an effort to have friends, and leave the house sometimes, I'd feel so much better"; and £you should be grateful - others have it so much worse", etc etc. And I agree. But I can't bring myself to give enough of a shit, to motivate myself to change how I am.
So I'm stuck in this pit of misery, unable to climb out. Will I ever take the coward's easy way out? I hope so every day, yet for over a decade I've carried on, not wanting to cause a fuss or cause grief in my loving family, thinking that maybe there's hope. But I'm tired of hoping and I just want to die.