i'm there again. i was getting to the point where i didn't think about it every day, but i'm there again. death. it seems the only way out. i look at everything and think, 'how could that kill me'. i write and re-write suicide notes in my head. i just feel like if someone were to come up to me and point a gun in my face, i wouldn't be scared, i would rejoice. i would be happy, because it would finally be the end. and i know, objectively speaking, that all of this is unhealthy and i should seek help blah blah blah. but i really don't want to. i don't think there's anything that anyone can help with. there is no hope for me. i mean, what can somebody really do? they can't get me medication, and even if they could, they could only get me medication to stabilize my moods. there are no medications that have worked to stop my migraines. and its not like they're going to erase all of my debt or take care of any of my other problems. the only help anyone can really offer is emotional support, and thats not gonna get me through the next fifty years, or how ever long i have left. i'll just wake up tomorrow, and wish i didn't (again), walk to work while fantasizing about jumping in front of cars, work while wishing i could somehow get a fatal injury, and then walk home and repeat. isn't life beautiful?
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