An Open Letter to My Suicidal Self: “Not Today.”

I don’t wish to commit suicide because apart of me really likes to be alive. I feel like if I die, I’ll be missing out on a lot. Not necessarily with whats going on with the world, there’s so much that it is already out of our control. But I just wouldn’t want to cause that much pain on the people that love me. It’s not like I’m not loved, it’s just sometimes I don’t love me. I’m a fuck up and it’s so funny because a lot of people think that there is nothing wrong with me. Like I’m this happy spiritual person, who collects minerals, reads and loves the color purple. Well the true reality is, that sometimes I feel like I am dying on the inside, some days I’m already dead. I can’t get out of bed, or come out of my home not in fear of anyone else but in reality I just feel like what’s the point. I’m broke, I literally don’t have a cent to my name, I have bad credit and my boyfriend left me because I don’t have any responsibilities, I don’t know what the fuck that means but I sort of have a sense. I’m in my mid 20’s, no job and no sense of direction. I really congratulate the people that grab life by the neck and take control of things because I don’t even know where to start. Oh you say grab life by the neck, you mean grab myself by the neck and just toss myself in an attic, not a basement it’s too dark, an attic, I’ll have a view. But wait, I barely have an apartment how can I possibly ever be thrown into an attic if I probably won’t even have a house. I am a very depressed person, and sometimes I feel like I find an escape route when I am in a relationship but the moment that person walks out of my life it’s like I’ve personally dug a deeper hole for myself. I know I don’t have the balls to commit suicide because I planned out when was a right time to cut myself. Okay at this time my roommate will be asleep and won’t come busting into my room asking irrelevant ass questions; CAN’T YOU SEE I’M SELF MUTILATING MYSELF! I just have so many questions, starting off with ‘Where do I begin with adulting? Is there a manual somewhere? A volunteer life coach? God are you even there? If so, strike me with lighting, let it be of natural causes and not intent.’

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