My Kids

I don’t like talking about my kids here because it makes me feel guilty for wanting to die. I’ve definitely thought of them to keep myself from committing suicide on more than one occasion. In fact, there is little doubt in my mind that I would be dead already, if not for them.

I know that my death will fuck them up for the rest of their lives. I love them. How can I do this to them? Why have I given up on life, when I have so much to live for?

I think about what will happen to them, when I die, and the fact that I would even consider death to be an option just fuels my self-hatred because it makes very clear just how awful a person I am.

I’m scared. Not of dying, but of how I’ve become indifferent about whether or not I live or die.

Maybe I should send the link to this blog to my doctor. I don’t want to go to the hospital because, if I go in now, it won’t be like previous hospitalizations where I’m in and out in less than a week. If I go into the hospital now, I’m going to be there for a long time. Dying would be so much easier.

I’m so fucking tired.

2 thoughts on “My Kids

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