I wish we could ask people who have died…
If they feel better.
If there’s relief.
If it’s not so bad.
Or a better place.
Because I think a lot of people are just barely hanging on because they’re afraid to die.
But they’re not really alive.
I’m only still here because I’m afraid to hurt my Mom. And my Aunt, and my family.
I’m exhausted from constantly struggling and being so unhappy. I’m anxious all the time and I can’t place a finger on the source of my anxiety.
I have nothing to live for or look forward to.
No dreams, nothing to hope for.
I didn’t think I would make it this far, and I’m worried I won’t make it through this year.
I’m afraid of death by disease or a long drawn out or torturous death, and I suppose that’s only natural.
I think about my death every day.
If I could, I would vanish into nothing all at once.
The only hope I have is that death is a relief, or a peace, or release.
I don’t want to hurt my Mom or my family, but I can’t envision living through the end of this year.