stop being suicidal

I quit

I used to be really suicidal. Sometimes, especaially if I’m thinking to much about my mom or Jacob I get really depressed and think alot about killing myself… I just get really afraid though. I don’t want to get on medication.. I’ll end up oversoding to get high. I really don’t want to go to therapy. I don’t need a doctor to tell me I;m depressed or fucking insanee. I can see that by all of the scars on my arms and chest…

Sometimes I have moments when I feel like I’m slipping back into my old days. I get scared. Really scared. I kind of feel as if I don’t have control if I let it happen. I have to put a smile on for everyone so people won’t question why I’m sad all of the time. I know I need to stop having these thoughts, I just don’t know how.

being here for other people just isnt enough….

more just … fantasies i suppose.

its coming off my list

i know i dont WANT to die

i think im just overwhelmed sometimes and i just cant take life. but my suicidal thought only last a day at the very most. used to be much longer.

and i keep thinking about my friends. i mean, if they killed themselves i would be fucking devastated. i dont want to do that to them.
and my mum and dad shouldnt have to bury their little girl, and my brother shouldnt lose his wee sis, and my grandparent shouldnt lose their granddaughter, my aunts and uncles shouldnt have to lose their niece, my cousins shouldnt have to lose their cousin, my bosses shouldnt have to lose their employee, i could go on and on. there are people who care, and theres no way in hell im going to hurt anyone like that.

i dont think anyone believes me

i really want to give up but i know i cant. i keep thinking about my mum and dad and brother and my friends and i cant put them through that. i dont know how much more i can take though

My circumstances have cornered me enough. I want to be free.

I never thought I would reach a point of hopelessness and despair. For a while, I thought that I was a very strong, independent person and therefore I must live for my family and friends, even if I couldn’t live for myself. But, as I reflect upon my life, I see nothing that I can be proud of. I am anti-social and unpleasant to be around with. My appearance is deplorable. I’m no winner in the brains department either. In fact, as a child, I had to be taught in special ed classes. At the age of 19, I’m still living with my father, being a burden to him by taking advantage of his food and shelter. It would alleviate my family, my friends, and the world if I would stop being a coward and die. I hate myself… But yet I’m still here, typing this. How utterly stupid of me, hoping to someday not be frightened of jumping into the abyss and simultaneously wishing for the people I know to not be affected. Every single day I grudgingly go to work to earn little green sheets of paper, thus validating my meager existence. I find myself being a number and not a person.

I am just a speck of dust on this planet, you see. Does it really matter if I leave or stay? I guess I’ll find out tomorrow, and the day after that, and after that…