Hello, I'm 19, I don't have many people to say this too. Its hard to say what I feel to people in person and this is easier. I just need to get it off my conscience. This is a very long read I know but every post I've made here I've deleted. This one I think I'll leave.

Is the future really something to look forward to when you know you're sick and you'll feel miserable no matter the circumstance? There are moments where things are less despairing but those moments are short lived. If I lived for fleeting happiness I'd be a drug addict on purpose. I want there to be something to care about enough to keep moving. I've been so close to throwing my own life away too many times to the point where I've gotten used to not caring about my own well being. In other words, my own passions aren't even enough of an excuse to stay alive. Caring so little about even my own well being makes it difficult to get things done, especially things I have no interest in. It destroys my motivation to get a job or even try at all. The only jobs I qualify for are the jobs I hate. I've worked fast food for about 8 months so far. I'd rather join the military and goto war than go into fast food again. It sounds extreme but then at least I'd have several excuses to stay alive, also as stupid as it sounds I think it would be fun. I'm extremely out of shape and I have flat feet that hurt so apparently I can't join the military atm. 

My passion is in pharmaceutical science, medicine, law enforcement, computer science and mma. I'm too far behind academically to catch up to prepare for college in the amount of time I have before getting kicked out of the house. Unfortunately I'm being rushed by my parent to goto college or get a job that pays enough to move out or else I'll get kicked out again. (I got kicked out once already soon after turning 18.) I've applied to several govt jobs, but if they don't turn out then I'm as good as done. 

Sometimes the urge to end it all is so strong it feel like it's meant to be. I present myself in public to be well groomed and organized but I come home to a cluttered mess of piles of trash and clothes. The room is dark so I don't have to look at it all. I smoke, drink and risk my life when I get the chance. I speed over 90 while driving every day. When I go walking I walk on the white line on the high way. Semi trucks 3in away from me going 60mph feel like they're sucking me in front of them just before they pass. Right now I feel ridiculous for being here typing this instead of being dead by one of those trucks. Another problem I've created, all of the risking my life has brought me to be less fearful of pain. I know it's really bad since cutting is something most people with this problem outgrow at this age, and I've never had a past of it, but recently I slice my finger tips because the pain feels relaxing. It gives me the same feeling you get when you have revenge on someone that really sweet and at ease feeling like you let everything go. But all the bad feelings come back later they don't just go. 

I've lived with this for a long time. But it's degrading my mental state the longer it goes on. I studied philosophy for 3 years and reflected on my actions looking for an answer about 3 years ago. I found no answers, in fact the more I thought about things analytically the worse I felt but the more mature I became. In my past I always released my feelings on others when it comes to anger or distress. Now I'm more reserved because I matured more in that time of thinking. I'm glad that at least I learned to live with it and not against it, which forced it outwards onto others. I never liked hurting others indirectly because i was too crappy to hold in my emotions. Only thing is I was a little late because I'd already said and done things which I couldn't take back.

My family doesn't like me. Except for my mother. She still has a semblance of care for me. My grandmother has already said after I thanked her for something "Yeah well everything I've done is for your mom. Not you, you've put her through a lot.". For context, I used to lash out at school and get sent to juvie or alternative school almost every year. It made her life miserable, having to move sxhool Districts all the time. Having less and less money each time. She was in debt at one point. I broke things in the house and put holes in the walls when I was younger. I disobeyed and yelled at her a lot too. If I could go back in time I take all of that back. One day when I was 15, we were in the car driving away from a family dinner. I broke the car window by backhanding it because i was mad, I didn't expect it to break. When it broke I couldn't stop apologizing. She turned the car around and went back to my grandma's house and ran in the house crying. Apparently I had scared her. When I saw her crying I felt really bad and wanted to comfort her but as I tried going through the door of the house my whole family barricaded the door, my cousin tried to fight me, my aunt was repeatedly yelling angrily "what did you do??!?!?!?", my grandma was yelling "Somebody get the gun! Someone go get the gun!" Then she yelled "I'm calling the sheriff!". Since then my mother armed herself with a baseball bat next to her bed. Everyone thought I was a violent psycho and they all treated me like it. Like I said this was a long time ago but it hurts me everyday. I feel like I need to be punished. I can't live with my actions. My mom has "forgiven me" as much as she's able that is. It's understandable. But nobody else has and neither have I. I was a vile putrid kid so don't feel bad for me because it's all deserved.

The funny thing is, all their guns are old. A couple days ago I was looking for ammo for one of the old guns (I was gunna blow my head off) and I found a hidden newer looking gun. It's likely the one they were talking about during that incident. I thought to myself how hilarious it would be if that's the one I end it all with. I've expressed my feelings of depression to them before when i was 13, they all thought i was lying the moment i told them. Everytime i bring it up they roll their eyes or act like depression doesnt exist. They know i want to die and they know I have access to the guns too. Either they don't think I have it in me or they don't care if I do.

Everyone else in my family wants nothing to do with me. And frankly I don't either. I wish I could start over but moreso I wish I could completely wipe my existence like it never happened.