I’ve tried to close the book of my life plenty of times, in my past. Sadly, I’m a failure at that, too, which most people wouldn’t see as a bad thing. They would say things like, “God doesn’t think it’s your time to go,” or “The universe is trying to tell you something.” All words that are appreciated but (unknowing to them) fall on deaf ears.

I’ve only swallowed pills. So many pills. So many pills that I think that’s why most of my medications at a “normal dose” for the average don’t work for me until it’s borderline extreme. It’s frustrating actually. I want things to work so badly, but it takes so much tweaking and wasting (for me) a lot of money and time that I don’t have. I’d rather be put on a high dose and weaned off than a low dose and slowly notched up.

The accident I was in recently, I should’ve died. I wish I would’ve died. THEY tell me continuously that I should’ve died. If you look at the pictures, in a normal car, I would not be here, and if I was, I would definitely be useless and a financial drain. That’s how bad it was. That’s how bad it could have been for me.

I think about death and dying a lot, and not because I want to. It’s because I have to…because I am forced to. I have accepted it. Though I do have an affinity for torture and gore, which is convenient and quiets my mind for a short period of time, but only, a short time.

I only wanted to kill myself because everyone was happy about my paine, though they didn’t realize they were. all of their oblivious joy was killing me from the inside out, and I wanted no part of it anymore. I wanted zero part of what was going to happen in the near future. And in the beginning, my thoughts on this were my own. The voices were mere new whispers that I couldn’t decipher, so I ignored them entirely, chalking it up to static in the air. Stupid me.

Now, killing myself is their spoken word, not my thought. I think about it, but it’s a fleeting thought after something incredibly bad has happened. Why does this happen?