Thinking about this, realizing, over and over again, looking at my SF signature, reminding me, again and again, why do I exist? To be miserable, and now, starting to have the nightmares about Cynthia again, it is too much pain. One month ago, from today, was the day I was suppose to go visit her. Almost as if it were yesterday, I can remember what it was like for me three weeks prior to that, so anxious to go see her. Now, of course, that was so long ago, it seems, and still, nothing other than pain. All I feel right now is pain. I so desperately want to be sitting at a table in a restaurant, or for me to be standing in a store, to have someone walk up to me and shoot me, resulting in me dead within seconds. Perhaps, having the murderer being Cynthia, or my grandmother, nono, my cousin Michael. Imagining him shooting, my grandmother observing, while Cynthia distracts anyone who might notice the murder in time to call the police for arrest. I also can imagine my father, a former police officer, somehow bribing the investigators to close the case, without any arrests. I see there being alot of joy in my family due to my death, and I hope it happens, somehow, though I doubt my idea of my family killing me will occur. They just want to torture me until I end my life.