i cant stop thinking about suicide. it's become a normal thing to fantasize about. i think of it every day. i'm locked in an echo chamber of ideals of death, and they've only gotten louder over the last few years. i've tried therapy, i've tried pushing the concept aside. but it always creeps back in. i'm obsessed with it, it's my only constant and my only comfort.

it overwhelms me whenever i get mad, whenever i feel wrong. i can't help but hurt myself every time i'm looked down on for it. i can't help it. it's uncontrollable. it's like it's the only power i have over myself. it's so easy and beautiful to me. could i ever hurt somebody else directly? of course not. i care about other people more than i could ever care slightly about myself. but i'm so indifferent to the thought of my own death, regardless of what comes after. i just don't care.

i think of it even when i'm perfectly fine. just writing about death; especially suicide, has become one of my favorite pastimes. i know morbid curiosity and sadistic fantasies are normal for people... but it's become a sort of release i've come to use in every situation. happy things don't make me happy anymore. suicide does.

and i can't stop hating myself. i don't think i'll ever stop. one ounce of criticism... the mere moment i'm wrong, i buckle in. it's always my fault, and i want to tear myself apart for it. the world is far— far too good for me. it's as if the idea of my own death is honorable or better.

the worst being i see is myself. no matter if i did good or bad, i'll always think i'm wrong. it's my fatal flaw, and it's why i see myself as such a waste. nothing will ever gratify me like hurting myself, because i deserve it.

and the loneliness is so pathetic. i push myself away, but expect a single person to ever help. i know i'm unfixable, and i know i don't feel worthy of anything. the only way i carry on is by beating myself down for my mistakes.

it's been there with me since i was little. i enjoy seeing characters i love get hurt because i'm projecting onto them. their suffering makes me happy because it feels like mine.

maybe i see myself as so worthy of death because i know my own flaws better than anyone else's