It's almost the new years. As much as I'd hate to admit it, there are many things that I could have missed this year if I would have killed myself that day. I could have missed meetups with friends, my boyfriend, meeting M, even this diary. The new year feels bittersweet, the holiday always had that effect on me. It's a reminder that new chances exist, that life can keep going despite many things—but, it reminds me that I'm getting closer to being a genuine adult. I haven't felt good at all about that. I've wasted so much of my life away just trying to keep myself together.
I hate admitting this, but the older I get, the more I feel like I need to drive myself to suicide. Growing up knowing that one day I will die, and knowing the most likely cause will be myself, has implemented that into my head no matter what I do to try and get it away from my thoughts. I feel more and more obliged to end my life young, trying to prove that I have endured mental pain. The entire thing is so selfish, but I can't stop thinking about it the older I get.
All my entries has just been about my mental state—and I'm sorry, reader. While you're able to click off at anytime, I still feel like I'm putting a burden onto you—a non-existant part of this journal. I'm weird, aren't I? I know I'm probably not even doing anything to you, it's just a subconcious feeling now. I'm sure you'd understand.
I don't know what's going to happen this year. You might see me feel better—but, I know it's not likely. I'm going to spiral again, and again, and again. It's just a loop, and you've seen that from my other entries. You're already expecting me to spiral into the next entry, and you're probably right. Things won't get very better for me. I know what I need to feel better; someone to really listen, a therapist, a better environment, maybe medication? It's a mess.
Though, I hope things will be better for you this year. I don't know who you are, but I like to imagine you've read my other entries. Maybe you're just like me, or you're someone that is beginning to resent me. I don't mind much, as long as you grow into who you want to be. I want others to feel light and free, I want others to escape what haunts them.
Another year will come, and everything will be okay. You know that, right? It all ends up content with time. Spend time with the family you choose, learn what makes you happy.