Dear Journal,
I have been thinking a lot about ending things. Especially in the evenings, when the sun begins to fade after dinner. It’s funny, because I spent so much time trying NOT to die a few years ago, that to have suicidal thoughts crop up again feels annoying. They’re not old friends anymore, like they were before. I don’t snuggle up with them anymore, and they no longer fit like a glove. Now, they’re pests that I no longer try to resist. Thoughts of ending things swarm around my head and I accept them, listening to the bugs with their parasitic message.
It’s strange to have them return. I feel the squeeze of a rope during that moment when my terry headband wraps around my neck before wrapping around my hairline. I feel it when waiting in line at store, and my gaze lands on a two-dollar bottle of Advil (I am allergic). I fantasize about getting back together with my ex, so I can take the handgun stored under his bed and use it against myself. I feel the urge now, and it feels unavoidable.
I’m tired of living with the messiness and with a lack of hope. I have no certainty that things will get better. Sure, I have dreams, and I know I can empower myself to achieve some of them, but I feel so disillusioned that I think it’s easier to die than to live with another letdown.
I will obviously not go to heaven, and that’s okay. Sinners like me don’t belong there. Enough said. Some people will benefit from me no longer being on this planet. Like other job hunters with similar skillsets to me, or my sister, because she can then have the room to herself again.
But that’s not the point, and I know choosing to end things isn’t the best way, if any way at all, to cope with my problems. It’s just that choosing the right path feels like too much right now. I don’t know if I have it in me to ask my sister, yet again, to put food away instead of leaving it out on the counter. I don’t have it in me anymore to begin filling out another job application, conscious to the reality that it’s most likely I won’t receive a reply. I don’t have it in me anymore to see the pets around the house remain dirty, unfed, flea-infested, and worst of all, neglected. I don’t have it in me to meet up with my lovely friend Jenna, whom I feel like I am my best self around (clean, considerate, and soft) and once I get home, spend an hour crying at how awful my life is in comparison. In essence, I feel trapped at home. I have no money, no inner peace, and no way to climb out. And that’s why I’m going to end it all.
You’re probably thinking I’m a coward, and I accept that. I, in fact, agree with you. But I’m not really in the best place right now, so I’m not really capable of making good choices. I hope you can be stronger than I am, and I hope you can forgive me.
Boy, am I glad to have not shared this blog with anyone, because if they were to read this, then they might reach out. There sure are benefits to not showing your true self to others.
All my love,
AMY LEE
AmyLeeThinks 