Pain:
Most of the time I feel like death is better than life. I feel like everyone I’m around would be better off without me. My memory would serve a better purpose to their life than myself being there physically. The idea of me is more comforting than the physical me. I feel hopeless in a world that is desperate for hope. I am drained. Inside I feel dead. The only thing that keeps me here are the people I cannot imagine leaving. My son, my family. They may never know it but without them, I would have made the choice to end my life a long time ago. These are thoughts I never project. I would never accept these thoughts from a friend or loved one. I would always remind them how important their presence is to the people who love them. I do not feel the same about my own life. My life feels lost. My life feels like at one point it had a purpose but now I’m spinning out of control, grasping for anything to slow me down. Yet everything I grab seems to make me worse. It never slows me down. It only creates more despair and doubt in why I am even here. What the point of my being alive even means. I will watch everyone I love die first unless I make a choice to leave before. I battle this. This thought of purpose becoming disconnected from my being. I know the pain I would cause by leaving. I know the void I would leave within my loved ones. There is still an undeniable part of me that feels they are better off with their memories of me than what I would become if I were to stay. Inside I feel like a monster capable of unexplainable pain. This is a pain I inflict on myself. My death would only cause pain to a few for a short time. Then I would be accepted. My death and my life. My mistakes and my successes would all be celebrated with no more room for pain. I would no longer be an emotional wreck for the people who love me to deal with along with their own life problems. Maybe my life is meant for an end and within that end will come peace for the people who love me and want to see me finally resting. This world feels more and more benign. Shadowed by my mistakes I cannot seem to escape the intrusive thoughts of my own death. I’m aware of the difficult life so many overcome. I am aware that there are many who would do anything for the luxuries of my life. The emotional burden I have created and the turmoil within my life is my fault. Those who would benefit from my luxuries would drown in my despair. Things mean nothing. Possessions are nothing. I am nothing. I am not possessed by anyone, only pursued. I am pursued by people who want me to fit their idea of who I am or what I should be. I cannot even figure out what I am or what I should be. The clearest answer I can find is death. I love my son. I love my family. I feel physical pain when I think of the anguish I have caused. I will continue to cause these issues if I stay alive and on this path. I cannot seem to control where my impulsive nature takes me. The end result is always the same. Pain.