I can’t see any way forward anymore. It’s all darkness and pain and hopelessness. If this is to be my life, I can’t go on living.
Really, it feels more and more that suicide is the only logical outcome for my life.
I read a story today about old people who can’t afford their cancer drugs. This is supposed to be a tragedy. Christ, I envy those people. I wish to God I could have a doctor look me in the eyes and say, “you’ve only got six months to live.” It’s obvious to me that all the worthwhile parts of my life are over and that all that’s left are various species of disappointment and failure. I’m angry at the Swan right now. Angry or jealous or ... something. She has so much to look forward to: Marriage, probably to a rich guy. A life of great comfort. Children. So many happy things. So many happy years. I doubt she appreciates it at all.
Meanwhile: My life is effectively over. There is absolutely no promise of a better job or career for me, ever. No marriage, no kids, nothing. I just spend hour after hour waiting around to die. If there is a God somewhere out there, I wish he would hear my cries.
I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate everything. It is all nothingness, and I want to be set free.
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