Keeping my promise to myself...
As you are reading this, you will realise I have finally decided I am strong enough to end my life. I guess it means that all the things I’ve made happen to myself have become too much. It is common for people in my life to reference my seemingly perfect childhood, in which I was described as “Bubbly, happy and full of life!” It is also a common occurrence for these same people to inquire “What has changed?”
I suppose that the answer to that assuredly harmless question is really very simple. It’s me. I have changed.
I am no longer the type of girl who can approach some fabulous stranger as much as that may seem pathetic. I am not the sort of person who can truthfully smile and easily partake within general conversations for hours on end. Ii am not the sort of girl who has friends. I look for people who will serve a purpose in my life. It’s a dreadful habit, which will shortly end, but I look for those who I think are most capable of hurting me, and therefore most likely to help me to achieve my goal. I do this because the satisfaction of being verbally or physically put down by someone who calls themselves a “friend” is immensely overwhelming, and enables myself to have less of a job every night. (Not that I would ever hesitate to deliver extra punishments for myself I hasten to add.)
I do not enjoy living, nor have I for an unreconcilable number of years. My life seems to have a detrimental effect on others which is truly heartbreaking, and most certainly difficult to stomach. I am repulsed at the majority of my behaviours, and appallingly disgusted at the slightest personal consideration for forgiveness for all which I have done.
I do not feel this way because of any person… Living or otherwise. I feel this because I am awful. I take things from people if I so desire, I hurt people to such an extent that they feel silence is the only possible necessary response, I ignore people who reach out in positive ways even though this (event is very rare), and I isolate myself from any formidable sign of life. I do this for a simple list of reasons.
I am to blame for all misfortunes, and so I desperately avoid being an offender for trouble. I am a curse.
People around me die.
People around me hurt.
People around me lose their will.
People around me lose their hope.
People around me give up, or are possibly effected by a dreadful event which makes them revoke their life which becomes a living hell. .
I cause death. I cause unhappiness. I cause hell. I shall not continue to be such a dysfunctional cause anymore. I can not. I will not. There is only one solution to soften and cure these people’s pain. There is only one thing to be done to rid the world of such a horrific criminal. I suppose, in fact, it is a fairly simple task. It is, however, a task that Ii find myself continuously avoiding, for many unknown reasons. I find little courage to complete this task as I am extremely weak. I am horrible. The loss of my life from this world will be unnoticed, or more hopefully, thanked. I am a trouble maker, and the only way to stop causing trouble is to put an end to my life. I’ve considered how… plenty-a-time…
I think, however, that I have finally decided upon the best suitable method. Suffocation. Neither the most painful, nor quick, but this will be solving so many troubles the method has become of seemingly no importance. The small amount of pain I feel will be nothing when compared against all that I have caused. All that I am to blame for. All that I have forcefully imposed upon innocent others. I am truly sorry for all I have caused, and all for which I am to blame. I hope that with my death you will swiftly forget me.