i’ve on and off thought about suicide since i was very young and first started to exhibit symptoms. it’s always been an option that i’m happy is there, that i’m relieved in some way that death is just a kiss away.

but i can’t convince myself to do it. no matter how much my heart hurts or how much i feel like ending it and how much i KNOW i will NEVER recover, that this sickness will always be a part of me....even with knowing all that, knowing it ultimately makes me the unlovable villain in the story who gets what she deserves...i still can’t push myself. i can’t do it on my own.

i wish something would finally push me over the edge so i can just get it over with. my fp and pets have kept me alive for so long because i know if i left, they would be sad, but my fp is so close to leaving me (as they always do when i get too much, when that... thing finally wins the fight in my head) and my pets can always find different homes and would be perfectly fine living with my parents...

and so, i just come to the conclusion i have every time i think about this... everything in my life is a negative, i have no way out; no future. i’m fat, ugly, stupid, lazy, and useless. there’s nothing for me to contribute to this world. i already know that. i know i have no place here. but i just can’t do it yet.

honestly it just feels like i just need one more good shove and i can do it. i just need one more thing to push me off. 

(it’s funny, i’m actually kind of excited to see what makes me finally lose it and finally flips the switch in my head. it would be my biggest eureka moment of all time.)

anyways, thank you for reading. i feel safe here when nobody else wants me and you all make me feel like i’m not alone. maybe we could all get together and sew patchouli sachets or pillow cases sometime lmao