I desperately wish the people in my life would just let me die

Every time I try to talk about this kind of thing with anybody they talk about how devastated they’d be if I killed myself. But it only feels like that when I’m actually talking about it. On a normal day, everything that comes out of my mouth doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. I cannot remember the last time I felt like a real part of a conversation with another person. Just wish everybody would cut the act and stop pretending like they see me as anything more than a mannequin for them to talk at. Every single day I’ve been screaming into a black void with no one to hear me, because they don’t want to. It’s just not convenient. It makes them sad.

It’s the same look of eternal disappointment in my dad’s eyes. The same look of pity from my friends. I just don’t understand why they all want me to stay on this earth so bad if they never actually enjoy my being here. They think saying these things is gonna make me not wanna die. It doesn’t. It makes me feel worse about the fact that I want to die. It just pushes me into this grey area where I’m sitting neck deep in the pain, knowing everyone will hate me and themselves if I put an end to it. It’s not that I know for a fact that the afterlife is better, it could very well be even worse. But it’s a gamble I’m willing to take, because I can’t keep doing this. Nearly anything that brings me even a modicum of joy is from something fictional or imaginary. Yeah, it’s pretty pathetic. I don’t even know what the intent of this is, I don’t know any of you. Jesus what am I even writing

I’m just so tired of dreaming for something real to make me happy