What am I supposed to fill all these hours with, except dying? There’s so much empty time and nothing else I want to do, nothing that holds my attention.
Would it really be so bad if I killed myself?
That’s a shitty question and you should know better. If you’re going to kill yourself, take responsibility for it yourself. Don’t try to make other people give you permission. That’s a shitty thing to do to people.
I don’t even really want to die. I just want a way to survive. But without that…what? I stay alive out of guilt, knowing that everything’s going to come crashing down around me soon? Is that really better than being dead? I mean, I hardly leave my apartment, so who would even notice my absence? It would only be noticed when someone wanted something from me, something I can’t give because I have nothing left, nothing.
I need somebody to save me, but no one can–or will–I’m not even sure which is more accurate anymore.
I could take some more pills. Sleep some more. Supposed to be going grocery shopping with C tomorrow but I could email and say I’m not feeling well enough. I don’t want to hide this anymore, but I feel like I have to. I mean, the only “help” left to me now is the hospital, and that would make things worse instead of better.
Dying is the only solution that makes any sense to me right now.