Everyday I think about killing myself and everyday I'm stopped by the exact same thing. Friends? No. Family? No. Pets? Nope. Pain? Not quite. Hope, Goals, Aspirations? Not even close.
But the thought of their pity? The way maybe 3 dozen people would show up to a funeral I don't want, to talk about the type of person I pretended or failed to be and how "it's just such a shame"? Nauseating, I'd rather rot than give them the opportunity.
The thought of spending not only my entire living life being looked down on but to have people literally and figuratively look down on me at the bitter end fills my already bitter heart with rage. Being a living hopeless loser is already a heavy enough burden to carry, but to die in a way where they would all know it was me? For them to all talk about it? Make snide teary remarks about it? Hemming and hawing about "if only she could have been saved, if only I had done more". A pathetic charity case until the last breathe. The thought of their pity remains the single thread holding me back from it.
So I spend each day crying on the ride to and from work. Staring bleakly, smilingly as much as i can stand it. Muttering my hate to myself when no one is close enough to hear. Making pointless conversations and attending events I do not care for because I want them to think I'm normal. At least somewhat.
In spite of what I've driven them to think, I'm not some smiling idiot. Still i understand that the boiled down, highly condensed version of the person I once was that I feed them can certainly come across as off putting. Even I can feel it. But not enough for them to care or question. I'd rather they didn't. I'd rather they stay perfectly preoccupied by their own lives and woes. Because being pittied while I reamin living and breathing is nearly as suffocating as the thought of being pittied when im dead.
