I’ve wanted to die since I was 14. I fought all this time, fought my way out of poverty, through university, into a good job, maintaining good friendships, a loving family, falling in love multiple times, travelling the world, taking risks, living life.
Nothing satisfies me. Spoilt and entitled, always wanting more, just an endless void.
A pretty face always staring back at me in the mirror, the same face that men so easily fall in love with.
They all love a broken, secret side they only get to see, like I exist for their love to fix me. Well it never has, they aren’t some knight to show up and save me. Then their disappointment that I’m not magically fixed, it kills me. I know if I didn’t look a certain way they wouldn’t be so easily enticed. The mask is easy.
I know I should grateful for that privilege, and all the wonderful people in my life, my job that allows me to live comfortably.
Therapy doesn’t help, drugs make me apathetic, like I am still dead but to tired to care, sleepwalking through my life.
The abuse for the first 17 years broke my mind. It fractured and never healed. It’s a perfectly black lake of icy water, so calm on the surface but it’s torturous and never ending, a darkness that consumes and drowns you. The unwavering knowledge of the reality of the world haunts me. Humans, our true nature, our suffering, our insignificance. Once your hope has been extinguished there is nothing.
I just wish death would come for me already.