I’ve reached my last thread. I’m falling and I’m not even caring enough to scream on the way down. I’ve found my point an as soon as I allow myself, I’ll get to it and just let go. People say that it gets better. People say that if I just hold on, or change a few things that I can find footing somewhere. But when they say it to me; it’s lies. They don’t mean to lie - they just don’t know how things go with me. It never gets better, it just gets worse. People tel me to focus on the positives, or the “happy memories” That’s the shit that hurts. Because it’s not positive in my world, it’s positive in someone else’s world and I’m standing on the outside looking in and people having everything I would sell my soul for. I’m 29. Shit is not going to get miraculous better for me. I’ve been trying to tell myself the same lie all my life. I’m looking around at the things I have left - and it’s not much. I’m looking back at the things I’ve lost and I realize that none of it is going to stay. I’m just going to keep losing it all and I don’t care how selfish that sounds, I’m not willing to wait around until I lose the last remaining things one by one. If I burn in hell for it, so be it. If the Atheists are right; when that used to bring me fear, now the idea brings me peace. I want to finally slip into unconsciousness. Where the wave of blackness engulfs me and I feel nothing anymore. No fake joy, no pain, no knowledge of others’ pain caused by me. [FONT=Helvetica Neue, HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]I wish to bring those people peace with my death. Knowing that they have no need to feel obligated toward me anymore. No need to rush off finding me a house, or worry if I have enough money to feed myself the next week. Whether I’ve relapsed into my addiction again (which I have), or whether I’m crawling too far into a bottle. When I go, it’ll all stop. There’ll be no more worry for me, I will no longer be a burden of concern to those around me. There’ll be no need to comfort me, or be angry at me....because I won’t be there for any of it to matter.[/FONT] My dog will go to a better home, my mom will move on and find herself with less daily concerns. My father will not blink an eye, my family will live their lives as they always do, except they’ll no longer have to hear my mother speak my name in disguised hatred, because she will have nothing new to say. This house, will give shelter to a family like the one I’ll never have. Perhaps their children will cure cancer or Menkes Disease one day. My pension will go back into the economy and I’ll no longer be a cause for the debt crisis. my clothes will warm and cover people more deserving, my possessions may aid in making someone rich one day and help their life become better in the way mine never did. All of this, brings me an odd sort of comfort. I read my grandfather’s will today - and that is my one regret in making this decision. That I will not have the time to plan my own. Not that I have much to give. I own nothing, I owe everything and to everyone so not much of it is useful. I highly doubt that anyone I know would even want to have reminders of me anyhow. So it is not a big regret. I have no living children to pass anything down, and even if I didn’t make this decision, I never will have anymore children to do so in the future. I truly see nothing left for me anymore and this auto-pilot to eat, sleep, wake up to eat before sleeping again with nothing to else to give has finally gotten old. I always said I didn't see myself living past the age of 30. I don't even see myself mustering up the strength to make it past 29. It would be nothing but pointless.