Inevitable end

I think I've grown too accustomed to the constant thoughts of suicide. They're almost always there and for years it's been a joke I tell myself. Because I know better, I can't kill myself even when I want to and trust me, I REALLY want to.

But I know I'll survive anything I try. So I just don't try anymore and you'd honestly think that eventually, this would sort of reverse itself. Be the complete opposite of what it is.

I mean, it doesn't matter how many times I think about it, what methods my mind concocts or any sort of plans I develope. The bottom line is I just won't do it because I already know I'll fail. Either I'll chicken out or I'll just plainly survive.

A LOT of people say this is good thing, but just try to see things from my perspective. I have been enduring extreme emotional pain for the VAST majority of my life. I talk about it alot. Ranging from all the loss, all the abandonment, all the abuse and all the regrets.

You know, if it were as easy as just telling myself to just pull myself up by my bootstraps or just don't pay any mind, I'd do it if I could. I've tried playing that game before and it blew up in my face harder than many of my experiences.

I let my shields down, tried to come out of my shell, tried to trust someone with no reservations. I suppose I succeeded in doing that, it was the person who did the betraying.

It's like every single time I've tried to build something, something or someone just comes right along and blows it all away and if that fails, I'll do it myself. Because that's just what I do.

I have tried so hard in this life to be someone I could never be. Whether it be because I have a knack for failing or because something else comes along.

Realistically speaking, I should be pissed off at the world. I should want to prove the naysayers wrong. I should be getting back up and just keep going but I just can't. I haven't been able to for quite a while now.

The burdens have just gotten so immense and I can't escape my own brain. My brain is the only entity on this planet that wants me to die more than I do.

And I waste my time, writing all these self revelations, on a has been site. I don't expect people to understand, I expect people to do exactly what they always do; try to help, try to inspire and trust me when I say that's not a bad thing. I'm the bad thing here.

No words are going to make any of my life right. But people still try and that's something I give them true credit for because it's something I can't seem to do.

I can't conceive the thought of continuing to try. What's the point? For what reason? Where's the purpose?

I already know what's going to happen, as much as others try to tell me that I don't. No, I don't know specifics or anything but I do know generalities.

This isn't the gambler's fallacy where we're relying solely on chaotic chance. There are hard set rules and barriers to this game we call life and a lot of those rules and boundaries tend to be directly in my path. So what's the point?

Even if I were to manage some way around any one of those barriers, I still have myself to contend with, knowing that at any moment I could just entirely lose steam and slide right back down here. That's the honest truth, I've grown far too comfortable in my lethargy.

Which I know I can't really blame myself for. After all, a body at rest tends to stay at rest. Trying to find that leverage to begin movement is nearly impossible because I don't see the value or purpose behind it anymore. I've already lost everything that I could have ever wanted, more than a handful of times and the clock has never stopped ticking away at the years where effort was still feasible.

Yet here I am, I don't know what I'm even trying to do here. Am I trying to find some new motive or am I just bitching and complaining about how bad my life sucks because I can't seem to move forward?

Am I trying to convince you that I'm hopeless? Or am I trying to continue convincing myself? I don't even know who you are and I highly doubt your words will have much impact if any at all, so the only real conclusion here is that I'm still trying to convince myself.

Why? I know I'm deeply afraid of trying, I understand and accept that. Or at least I think I do. Is there more parts of me that I'm unaware of that haven't given up yet? Parts of me that still truly hope?

And if so, why? I see the barriers in front of me and I know full well that there's only the slightest of chance I could overcome just one of them.

So why would any part of me still be clinging to any sense of hope? And if thay were true, how do I find it? And then, what do I do with it? Do I listen and disregard the things I know? Or do I stifle it and shut it out?

Maybe the reason I've survived every single suicide attempt doesn't have anything to do with a God or some special purpose. Maybe it's simply because that unidentified part of me just wasn't willing to let go.

Or maybe I'm wrong, like always. Maybe I'm finally slipping beyond the madness into being truly crazy. Either way, I'd have to be crazy to ever try again... but just maybe I'd have to be crazy to keep going this way...