So I thought long and hard about if I wanted to post something like this, mostly because I didn’t want it to be a big deal or anything.
I routinely think about killing myself, pretty much anytime I’m alone.
Such a simple thought, yet one that expressing has such negative connotations. I am a college drop out, in debt, working a dead end job, hating my current surroundings, but can’t do a damn thing about them. I am an alcoholic and a stoner, simply because the thought of being sober frightens me. Tonight alone, I drank 6 shots at work, drove to the store, and bought more beer which I’m proceeding to drink through. Last week, my paycheck was $40 and this week won’t be much better.
One beer down.
It seems so petty simply because I know my life could be so much worse. I have a loving girlfriend, a supportive family, amazing friends, and yet I can’t help it. I enjoy speeding while driving, and if it’s late at night and I’m alone I stare longingly into every wall, thinking at this speed I would surely die. 70. 80. 90. All it would take is a sharp turn into a wall and then I’d be gone.
It isn’t the first time I’ve had such thoughts. I’ve survived three attempts already. 13. 15. 18. I slashed my wrists, to be awoken with my arms bandaged and a note saying “Jesus loves you, just love him back.” I took too many pills and ended up vomiting up my presumed to be lethal concoction. I jumped off a bridge, out of options. I woke up two hours later, with a bad concussion and nothing more. I haven’t tried since because I know how selfish such thoughts are. How dare I affect my loved ones so much? If I did hit that wall, I know exactly what I would do with my final moments. I would turn my camera onto myself for the first time, and let my loved ones know what happened. I’d let them see me for the first time ever, not even my closest know me truly. They know I’m a dark person, but no idea how dark. At twenty one, I’m tired. My life time has been too long, and all I want is rest. My girlfriend has no idea about this, but I’m thinking about telling her. Everything. She knows so little about me, but she won’t see this so unless I tell her she’ll never know what happened.
Second beer done.
Gosh, Im being so open tonight. I’m just letting my fingers type whatever they want as long as it makes some sense. Sentence to sentence. I have no real idea what I’m typing, since I haven’t eaten and am now drinking. God, I sound like such a pussy… drunk off 2 beers and 6 shots. Ok, maybe not drunk but damn tipsy. I haven’t eaten today, which is common when I’m alone. It’s partly how I lose weight, but I can’t keep it off permanently.
I’m literally rambling, but I don’t want to stop typing till I am done with my beers, and a bunch of strangers who will most likely never read/care about this have the ability to see it. Because if I follow you, there’s a damn good reason. Either I love what you say, even if it ins’t very much, or I find you interesting.
Third beer down.
I have no idea why people follow me, I so rarely post and if I do it’s damned depressing like this! I’m practically posting a drunken suicide note, and I know no one will read it. Why should anyone? There’s no reason! I’m a random person, with first world problems, who can’t even fucking man up and admit it!
Opening final beer.
The reason I’m so ready to die is because I see no hope for the future. Without college, I can’t do any better. I will work bullshit until I either go back to school or die, whichever comes first. I’m trying to decide if I need to vomit yet… I think I should finish this beer and handle my damn alcohol… maybe I should eat something? But that would mean getting up… this should be interesting. An article written by an alcoholic, depressive asshole while drinking and spiraling into self loathing and suicidal tendencies. Maybe someone should read this…