i've been thinking a lot about killing myself lately. obviously, i'm not doing it. i'm not even trying. but i think about it all the time. it's like i told those doctors, that night in the ER, i can't promise i'll never consider it again.
i don't know what makes me so different from the people i most identify with. (my dad, my brother.) i honestly think that they would never even consider it. but, me, i can't get it out of my head.
oddly enough, i think what bothers me most is that if they did consider it, they probably wouldn't waste their waking lives considering it continuously; they'd just do it. and they'd do it right. the first time.
so, what the fuck...
like everytime (all the time) it's a myriad of things that's got me down. money being the forerunner. i owe more in two weeks than i make in a month and i'm still making stupid fucking mistakes that overdraft my bank account nearly every week.
i mean. honestly. i don't know why i bother.
i could declare bankruptcy, i guess, but i haven't even got any assets to keep and, with that in my file, i can't forsee ever getting any in the future.
i've applied for every mindless bullshit job i can find (and some decent ones too) but, as always, i can never even get a call back.
moreover, i'm realizing that i am never going to produce anything. offspring, ideas, inspiration.
i am. just. wasting. space.
and i still can't get motivated either way. i will always be wasting away until someone finally makes me stop.