Regret

I'm thinking of quitting DBT and stop taking my medication. I'm just not receptive for help. I'm not willing to work for a better life. I've just given up. I will let the darkness consume me.

All I want to do is write about my miserable life and self harm until I won't be able to repair. Smoke until my lungs are so thick with tar I can't breathe. Listen to music so loud I'll become deaf. Close the blinds, shut the door, shun the world outside and disappear. I'm too weak to live, and I'm too weak for suicide. I won't be able to live it through, I never be fulfilled, I will never be okay. I'm giving up on ever finding medicine that works, giving up on hoping for a painfree day, giving up on a decent life and ever getting better.

The truth is, I wish I had killed myself on my 13th birthday. Would have spared me a lot of pain. Cause it's been down hill ever since. Every year a little harder. My greatest regret is being born here, I made a horrible mistake and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if I can. I'm afraid suicide will make things worse, that I'll end up in an even more awful place than this, or having to do it all over again. I know when I came here I had a lot to learn, I know I didn't want to reincarnate again, that I had no choice. As a bargain I chose to pack in as much experience as I could in this one life, a crash course, so I won't have to reincarnate a third time. But I don't know if it was my own choice or if I had to. I don't know what would be worse, cause if it was my own retarded idea I'll hate myself for that, and if I was forced to I would hate everything else. I don't know what would be worse.

All I have left is my soul, if even that. Eleven suicide attempts, maybe the 12th will be the charm? I don't know, I'm not up for that right now. It's freaky scary for some reason, especially cause I'm certain my next attempt will be as close to 100% deadly as can be. I won't survive it, unless someone finds me within ten minutes, and even by then it might be too late. I'm through with overdoses and trying to bleed to death, I'm going for a new, more effective method. But I don't want to, not now. It's much talk and not much action really, but I fantasize about it. I guess it's just who I am, born to be miserable.

I'm pathetic, I really am. I'm really, really, utterly pathetic. Just look at this?! And I've been at it for a decade! Just get yourself together John, just get a grip and realise just how ridiculous this is, for crying out loud! How long is this gonna go on for? Everytime I wake up after another attempt I feel so guilty, ashamed and horrible for causing the ones I love so much pain and worry that someday I'll succeed, but more because I'm still alive.

That's the horrible truth: I feel worse for being alive than the fact that I've hurt my friends and family. That I'd rather die than live here with you. It can't be easy being friends with me, it can't be easy loving me. I realise that, I really do, and I am so sorry.