stuck down a rabbit hole of misery
- Jan 1, 2020
Since I was a child anytime I felt alone or depressed the only comfort I found was fantasizing about my own death. Just imagining my own funeral and the people who would come and be sad. It’s almost like this sick feeling of actually being “loved and cared about” for once. I mean I know I have people love and care about me in my life but when you die it’s like people actually care, I mean it’s a little too late at that point but I hope somebody knows what I mean. I always fantasize about my death, now it’s coming to a point where it’s not even just about the feeling of anyone giving a damn about me not being a live anymore, it’s not a comfort mechanism. I literally fantasize about dying just to escape my mental hell. I hate how this is me. Anxiety is killing me. I’m not even a normal person. It’s not fair.