Why do I live? So many good people die, are dying because they need organs.
I’d like to have cancer, or some sort of illness that guarantees death. That way I can get my wish. Death wrapping its darkness around me, taking me away.
Suicide leaves the kids a terrible legacy, a sense of blame, confusion, anger, sadness. I can’t do it to them.
But illness, they can grieve in loss and never know how much I wanted to die.
I thought about accidental death – but how can I be sure that I won’t end up mangled or have some other innocent soul affected.
I’m not happy. My neighbours drug and alcohol fuelled parties are worse, I got caught calling noise control so they threatened me constantly. My kids heard the words through the window. I ended up calling the police. I felt afraid and vulnerable. 3 young men jacked up on booze and drugs.
I had a call from the police, I had to give a statement today for that guy who I was on a date with when his sister was murdered. He knew it was coming but didn’t warn me out of courtesy.
I had to go to the police station. I had a panic attack in the car. Police station + reminder of rape + reminder of that cop + neighbours shouting at me. Now I’m stating that this guy was with me so obviously didn’t kill his druggie sister. Did I get a thanks? No he sent me a ton of abuse. The cop told me he had gone a bit mad and was struggling with things.
My dog has has been taken away, my ex didn’t pay his registration fee as previously agreed. So the council took him. How can I argue? I can’t afford the fine and S has the house he was supposed to be living at. I’d brought him down here a few times to feel safe. Oh well, fuck that, seems ill never feel safe again.
I wanted to feel safe and supported today. After all the shit I’ve been through the last of weeks. I went to my ex’s house. Do you think he gives a shit?
My life is fucked. My lease is up in may, I’m just going to get my passport and fuck off. I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t do anything important. I’m just a no one, with no life. I can’t get a job, I deal with daily depression and anxiety.
But my ex has the house, the kids, the career. He has the dream that I’ll never have.
I’m drinking wine, I intend to take my sleeping pills and waste the entire day and weekend asleep. This is my life. I hate it, I hate myself.