I’m Tired Of People Telling Me It Will Be Okay. As If I’m Some Sort Of Martyr For Going Through Trauma

I’m tired of people telling me it will be okay. As if I’m some sort of martyr for going through trauma I didn’t ask for. I’m tired of it defining who I am. I am tired of complaining about it. I am tired of being told how strong I am, how I can handle it and have dealt with these things before. In that case is my life worth living knowing there will never be a set time in my life where I’m happy? Where my entire world can flip around and switch on my own brain and then I’m stuck discovering ways to kill myself for months? This is the lowest I’ve ever been. I don’t know if I can keep going lower, but yet again, I get proven wrong every time I wake up. It is sick. This shit is sick. I sincerely don’t know who I am anymore. It’s like a mirror shattering and millions of shards scatter across the ground and I am then demanded to fix it and piece it back together. There are so many cuts on my hands and the glass rests itself in there while I attempt to fix something completely unsalvageable. I am far gone, and completely incapable of saving. I have no personality, interests, hobbies, talents, looks, or anything. I don’t feel anything. I am genuinely a walking skeleton with decently working organs with no purpose other than to showcase people what you should not aspire to be. I am barely alive. Im conscious, but there is nothing there. I am yelled at and scolded inside of my own brain. There are so many unrecognizable people and unfamiliar voices in my brain telling me how bad they wish I was dead. I’ve been hearing this shit forever. I don’t know why I have not gathered the courage to do it. I’m scared because I don’t know if there’s anything after this, meaning there is genuinely no escape for me. The fact that I’ve been in deadly situations yet I’m still alive makes me feel as if this is God’s personal purgatory for me. I can’t succeed in killing myself, getting into car accidents, almost having my house destroyed, violence, or anything because God will always find a way to keep me here to torment me forever. I will lose no matter what I do. I want to die. I’m so tired of existing. Even the good things that happen to me never completely satisfy me because I’m such an ungrateful brat. I don’t even have the right to complain about most of this because I have all of my answers in front of my face yet I don’t take them. Now that’s another problem. I don’t know why I can’t push myself to do it. Is it because I’m comfortable here? I feel the opposite. I feel miserable and from the moment I wake up to the time I go to sleep I think about just how great it would be if I died. I have prayed to God to kill me off. I have prayed to deities to kill me while I sleep, or to kill me in any way they see fit. They’re keeping me alive to progress forward, only to rip away everything again in the future. I don’t know who to believe, to rely on, to trust, or to support. I’m so tired of needing to go through this all. I know life is hard, that life changes both negatively and positively, but it feels like I’ve been on a downward slope heading straight down to hell. I was doomed before my mother even birthed me. I will always hate her for not throwing herself down a flight of stairs to kill me. I will always hate her for not getting an abortion. I will always hate her for not strangling me in my sleep when I was a child. I will always hate her and my father for forming me into this amalgamation of a human being, if you can even call me one. I am nothing. I am complete, utter garbage compared to everyone else. I am worthless. I don’t know what makes me happy anymore, I don’t know what I like, I don’t know who I am. My brain eats itself everyday. My heart gets less functioning everyday. My liver begs me to stop drinking because truthfully, it doesn’t even help me cope anymore. Nothing does. Not art, not music, not self harming, not smoking, not drinking, nothing. Am I doing this to myself? I don’t even know. I’m not here most of the time. I am off somewhere unfamiliar and I don’t know where that place is.

There’s never a moment of silence in my head, and it’s always rapidly spiraling and going so many miles per hour I don’t know what to believe anymore. I have gotten so desperate and I’m need of help that I’ve reached out to God on so many different occasions and I think all he does is listen and laugh at me. I don’t know what I have done in this life or the last that has made me a complete embarrassment to society. I am in the process of isolating away from everyone because I can’t trust them anymore. I don’t like anybody anymore. Not even the people that make me the happiest do that anymore. It hurts. I am lost. I have been so fucking depressed that I don’t even think depression is the right word. I wish that I was killed off every single day. I have written so many suicide notes and they rest dormant in my beside drawer where all of my blades and empty alcohol bottles are. This is a cry for help. I’ve tried everything and it seems like there is nothing I can do anymore. It makes me feel sick. I wish that I could feel normal. I don’t know what to do, or how to get myself to care about anything anymore. I’m so miserable.