Last night I stared at the growing number of prescription bottles on my bathroom counter.  I wondered what would happen if I took them all.  Statistically speaking I'd wake up with a headache and an upset stomach, banned from ever receiving decent medications in the future.

So I walked away.

Today I sat outside, while the snow tumbled from the sky, thinking that I've already lived 31 years longer than I ever wanted to. 

31 years.

What does God do with that?

I should muster the strength to crawl out of myself.  But I deserve this, I deserve every second of it.

Yes.  I live entombed in selfishness.

My friend summed it up best when he said, "people don't kill themselves because they want to die, they kill themselves because they want the pain to end."

If only death would end the pain.  If only death ended life.  But it just transfers it, it's a birth and an existence where there is no pissibiity for an end.

God, do you love them more than me?  I cant' help but think that you do.  They found new happiness and I'm eternally drowning in grief and sorrow.  Drowning God.  Do you hear me?  Do you care?  Is this what "for my best good and development" means?  I fear it is.  I fear I signed up for this.  I fear I knew all of this before it ever started to happen, and I naively agreed to tough it out.  Well, I hate me.  I hate being stuck and useless.  My mind is tormented and I am the one inflicting the torture.

This is all so very pathetic.  And I know it.  Yet I continue to do it anyway.

Cursed.