Eleven years of this. When I was first suicidal I was just a kid. I still had hope for my future sometimes; especially when people made grand empty promises. Now I'm an adult, and I've run out of hope long ago. All my dreams are dead. My poor health has left most of my life in the hands of someone who doesn't care enough to make my life worth living. Where I live, how I live, it's all up to him. So my entire world is this fucking awful dirty little room with holes in the floor. Sociopath, monster-in-law stomping around the rest of the house. If I were to go I wouldn't be missed; no friends, no family. It's just me and my partner. And he's already showed me time and time again that I'm not good enough and never will be. I'm sure he'd replace me in no time. He will immediately take comfort in the arms of whoever is most convenient. I'd bet on it if I could.
This life holds nothing but pain for me. So much fucking pain. I don't belong here. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home, but home doesn't exist anymore. I don't see why I should stay. To lay in bed in mental and physical pain with no energy to do anything meaningful? I will never have a career, a family, or someone who loves me right.
I'm so tired. And all the best people I know are dead. I miss my dad, and I can't take this loneliness anymore.
I don't think anyone can say anything I haven't heard before. I so wish that someone could though. But I've tried just about everything accessible to me. I'm exhausted and out of options. Therapy, medication, so many different medications that my brain felt like mush, text helpline, call helpline, and nothing works. At one point I tried to get into an inpatient facility. But after talking for hours about everything i find out that i put myself though all of it for nothing because they don't take my insurance. They give me a list of outdated and incorrect resources to contact. The closest place that accepted my state insurance was three hours away and i had no car. Too poor for help. Still rings true today. The only inpatient facilities near me now that takes my insurance have horror stories for reviews and a whopping 1.5 stars on average. I feel like i should heed the literal warnings of people saying to stay clear of the place.
I feel so clear headed. I'm very sad sure, but not impulsive. I think it really makes sense. It really feels like it's the most logical choice given... well everything. Like am I really supposed to spend another decade wasting away in bed wanting to die? For what?? For who?? This isn't life. I'm already dead in a way.
This life holds nothing but pain for me. So much fucking pain. I don't belong here. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home, but home doesn't exist anymore. I don't see why I should stay. To lay in bed in mental and physical pain with no energy to do anything meaningful? I will never have a career, a family, or someone who loves me right.
I'm so tired. And all the best people I know are dead. I miss my dad, and I can't take this loneliness anymore.
I don't think anyone can say anything I haven't heard before. I so wish that someone could though. But I've tried just about everything accessible to me. I'm exhausted and out of options. Therapy, medication, so many different medications that my brain felt like mush, text helpline, call helpline, and nothing works. At one point I tried to get into an inpatient facility. But after talking for hours about everything i find out that i put myself though all of it for nothing because they don't take my insurance. They give me a list of outdated and incorrect resources to contact. The closest place that accepted my state insurance was three hours away and i had no car. Too poor for help. Still rings true today. The only inpatient facilities near me now that takes my insurance have horror stories for reviews and a whopping 1.5 stars on average. I feel like i should heed the literal warnings of people saying to stay clear of the place.
I feel so clear headed. I'm very sad sure, but not impulsive. I think it really makes sense. It really feels like it's the most logical choice given... well everything. Like am I really supposed to spend another decade wasting away in bed wanting to die? For what?? For who?? This isn't life. I'm already dead in a way.
