I should note that I am on the pills right now and don't feel so bad than I normally do. This is the first time me taking them, but even though I'm calm, even after my mothers drinking rage, I still want to go. I feel fine, but I still don't want to live. I hate knowing that for the rest of my life I have to spend at least 40 hours working at a job and slaving away. I hate knowing that I have to slave away to afford a place to sleep, so I can go back to work again. I hate how no matter what happened today, or in the future, something bad will always happen, even if it's not to me. I just find no pleasure living in this world. I'd rather read my books all day rather than interact with reality, but my books can only take me so far. I have no motivation, or desire. I may feel content, but I know I'm still not happy. I don't want to do anything and I don't want to try. I think I'm okay with just leaving. Does that make me crazy? or.. maybe aware? No one should be afraid to die. We all end up there one way, or another.
Death shouldn't be so scary
- Thread starter Jasv
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WE all know death is inevitable it is what you do with your life that can make you not just survive it but be a part of living
Our time here is short enough so why not reach out and help others not all things are dark in this world there are many people who bring others joy and support and care. You could be one of those people
Our time here is short enough so why not reach out and help others not all things are dark in this world there are many people who bring others joy and support and care. You could be one of those people
Hi, I know you are hurting at the moment. It's good that you are reading books as this is a form of your escapism. I know you trying your best to still to be here and that's very admirable. The medication will help you but it will take at least six weeks to kick in. Please remain strong for now and keep posting here. Please keep safe.
Yeah, the day after day after day of the same old thing really stinks. The weekend is when errands are done and clothes are washed. Then its back to work so I can afford to wash the clothes again. It all seems so tedious and unimportant. Like I am an insignificant piece of, heck I don't know what, just existing until my time runs out. My time could run out right now and I would be pleased. I am not so much afraid of being dead, as I am of the process of getting there. There are so many lousy ways to die.
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