Not to sound dramatic, or anything.
As years pass, I begin to realize the futility of resolutions and making plans and trying to motivate myself to do things that I know I'm not going to do before I even think about doing them. Almost a full year before trying to go to college, I knew I wasn't going to go. I knew that I would chicken out, or some complication would arise, and I knew that I would be sitting here, as I always do, wondering when my life will begin to change.
And it is changing, slightly.
Christopher and I have made plans to move up to the western part of Washington, with his mother. He wants to go to college up there, and I honestly don't care where I go to college, so it works out fine. I just don't want to be here anymore, with these people and these feelings and these memories. I don't want to be anywhere.
And so that brings me back to my first statement. I want to kill myself.
Almost daily. I think about it a lot. I know that I'll never do it, but most of me thinks I would be better off gone. It's cliche, yeah. But that doesn't change the thoughts of worthlessness or self-hatred. It doesn't change the fact that I'm too afraid to do anything for myself, and the one time that I did do something for myself, I fucked it up by quitting. I fucked it up. And I don't like fucking up.
So yes. I want to kill myself. But that doesn't change anything.