I got home from work this morning. I wrote a suicide note. It's been kicking my ass harder than usual as of late.
I have too much time to think at work, even with music blaring in my ears to stave off the thoughts. I got home and the smallest thing set me off. Dirty dishes and my refrigerator fucking up. I'm on light duty at work due to injury. I haven't held a decent relationship in two years--everyone I have dated has turned out to be really shitty. Lying to me, manipulating me, hurting me in one way or another. I don't have a family. That I speak to anyways. I hate their guts. They abused me as a child up into my mid twenties. I feel like the thought in the back of peoples' minds. Or more accurately, an afterthought. Something people think about, briefly, and forget about. I do a lot for people. More than I should. More than I have to. However, I feel unappreciated. I'm a couple years away from 30 and I don't have the confidence to believe I'll ever see that number. Or if I want to. I think the only thing that keep me downing a bottle of pills and swerving head on into a semi are my cats, because I'm afraid they won't be taken care of or spoiled properly when I'm gone. That sounds stupid reading over it, but it's true. Either way, I'm spilling my guts to strangers on an internet forum. I don't as a way to rant and clear my head, or because I'm desperate and secretly afraid that I've reached the threshold of this pain.
Submitted June 26, 2016 at 04:37PM by Nutshe11 http://ift.tt/28WreT7 SuicideWatch
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