What are you looking for?
Featured Topics
Select a topic to start reading.
If you are in crisis and need immediate help, please call 1-800-273-8255 (NSPL) or text HOME to 741741 (Crisis Text Line). More resources.
I want to fucking kill myself. I just want this to be over but I still have like 60 more years ahead and its really dragging me down. I don’t want to grow old, I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be here. I wish I was never born. I wish that an accident would happen and I would just die. I am too much of a coward to just kill myself. I am weak and pathetic. I should just die. I fucking hate myself. I hate myself. I don’t want to be alive. I want to fucking die. Kill me. Just have something that kills me. If something kills me then I can be dead and not have to suffer the consequences of suicide and the sin it brings. I am scared of going to Hell if it is real. I believe in God but I don’t know if I believe in the Roman Catholic description of God. I believe that something cause us to be, and the “proof” that I’ve been told and haven’t researched into makes it seem like Jesus was real, so God should be real too. But I don’t know. I don’t even believe in myself. I have difficulty in believing in the Roman Catholic version of God. But if they are right, then I sure as fucking hell don’t want to be sent to real hell. I don’t want to experience God and then have that be taken away form me and be the cause of my torment for the remainder of existence. So a fear of God, a fear of a lack of God, and a fear of what hell actually is, if it even is, are major contributors to why I haven’t killed myself yet. I want to, but this, as well as death in itself, the pain felt, the commitment, the pain it will cause, and the waste of utter resources and how fucking terrified I am of dying. I don’t want to die. My body doesn’t want to die. I’m scared that I want to die. I’m really fucking scared of myself. Of this disease in my head. I don’t want to be depressed anymore, but I can’t do anything to stop it. I can’t stop the thing that makes me want to not be alive anymore. I just want it to go away, but I can’t even imagine what my life would be with it gone. It’s been with me for so long that it has become part of me. Part of my mind and my personality and my general outlook on life and my goals and ideals and relationships and just fucking everything. If I stopped being depressed, would I even be myself anymore. Would I be happy but feel fake. Or would I feel like I am myself for once. That the person that I used to be was wrong and dumb and that I should have gotten therapy or taking medicine or done fucking something earlier. But that terrifies me too. It’s a commitment to myself, one of the people I hate the most. And I know its just the depression itself talking, its own attempts at self preservation, but I’m scared of commitments too. I always just break them and push others away. No matter who they are, no matter how much I care about them and love them, I just want them to go away. I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want them to hurt me. I don’t want them to know who I really am. That terrifies me. I don’t even want to know who I really am. I’m scared of myself. I’m scared of the mess that is me. I don’t want me. I don’t want to be with me. Why would anyone else. Anyone that likes me just likes the escape mechanism. A fake but real part of my personality. A mask based off of the real thing. And that’s unfair. It’s unfair to them for me to do that to them. It’s not right. I’m just going to hurt them, to be disillusioned as always and the just push them away and hurt them anyways. I’m going to hurt the people around me. I want someone to help me, someone to love me, but it’s unfair and unjust to ask them to do that for me. And why would I even want to spend time with someone that loves me but I don’t love them. Why should I deal with their shit when I don’t want to deal with them. Its unfair to ask them to take all my baggage, to stick by myself to see me get better, or if I don’t to just stay there and love me, when I won’t feel like I love them. When what I do feel is a urge, a crave for attention, but an inability and an impassion to reciprocate what I want so bad. I just love the idea of a relationship, I just want a relationship, but can’t deal with the person that a relationship brings. So I push them away. I push everyone away. And just get more and more depressed. So I just want to die. I don’t have any goals in life. I don’t have any reason to live. Every day, while filled with some pleasures, some even returning a net positive in happiness, just fills me with a sense of dread and hatred and I just wan to die. No matter how happy I feel, the depression comes and sucks it away. And I recognize that. I realize that. I’m not an idiot. I know what it’s doing. But I’m weak. I’m pathetic. I can’t hold it back. I encourage it. It is me and it has become a large part of me and I don’t know what I would do without it. “I’m not broken. This is just me.” Bullshit, I know that I’m broken. I know that my brain is wrong and that I should obviously not fucking want to kill myself. No one should want to kill themselves. But we don’t live in a perfect world. People do want to kill themselves. People do kill themselves. And its sad that that happens. But I won’t let that happen to me. Not matter how many times it comes in my head. Over and over again. Between my thoughts, between every breath, when I close my eyes and when I have my eyes open. I know I am wrong and broken. It’s bullshit to say that there isn’t anything wrong with me. There fucking is something wrong with me. And I accept that. And I won’t let my depression win and kill me. I won’t let it bring me down to having a gun in my mouth, a pill down my throat, or the ground rushing towards my body. I won’t let it do that. I know that wrongs. The fear doesn’t have to tell me that’s wrong. As a rational and autonomous (ish to both, I am fucking depressed and that does degrade both) being, I know that it is wrong to kill myself. I know this. and I won’t do it. This is how I fight my depression. By stopping what it wants the most. I’m not the point to where I can kill it completely. I can’t get rid of all of my depression, especially by myself. I know that I can do more, that I can live a better life. But for the moment, this is my battle with it. One day at a time. When ever it wants me to stop being alive, I tell it no. No matter how much I consider it, how much it stays in by brain, I won’t do it. And maybe eventually I will be strong enough to stand up against it. To fight for a better life. To fight for friends. To fight for a significant other. To fight for a will to live. Maybe one day. It’s not today. And it’s most likely not tomorrow. But maybe it will happen. And I can go a day without wanting to kill myself.
Fuck I hate myself.
Fucking hell I hate my depression.
If you see a comment that is unsupportive or unfriendly, please report it using the flag button.
You can believe this or not but if you look at Catholicism, it bears a strong resemblance to religions of old. Looks like they took the Roman pantheon and just renamed their gods to have this Christian image. Christians have been killed centuries prior by the Roman Church. That should tell you how 'Christian' they really are.
Now, I can relate to how you're feeling. I know how it feels to want to die but not want to burn for it. It is a really toxic message to spread to believers that suicide is a sin. That you'll burn for it. If you believe in Roman Catholicism, shouldn't you be sent to a waiting room instead? That is what Purgatory is, isn't it? It can feel like you're going through the motions with a stone in your chest. Think about what you'd miss out on if you died. Who would you miss? Do you like dogs or cats? You'd never pet one ever again. Do you like hugs? You'd never feel one ever again.
The Jesus of the Bible, the one who fed hundreds of people, who wandered the desert, who died on the cross, knew what human suffering felt like. And I'm talking biblical Jesus, not the impostor on a crucifix that needs constant appeasement. I wish I could say that I believe with all my heart, but doubt has clouded my mind. I'm a homosexual, you see. If there is a God, I will never see the pearly gates because I couldn't shake it off. So yeah, you're not the only one sweating over the consequences of ending it all.
Reply